Page 58 of The Moon Also Rises
My second glass of wine which I consumed while doing all the necessary meal prep was slightly less productive as I managed to cut my finger – twice – while slicing tofu and vegetables, and I also had a hot flush while searing the lamb.
My third glass of wine which I sipped while getting ready – pairing my designer jeans that do wonders for my ass and ego with an ivory linen shirt I may or may not know Lionel used to like – was the most unnecessary and disastrous of all because upon swallowing the second to last mouthful I realised I shouldn’t be drinking with the antihistamines that are keeping our imminent dinner from being snot-flavoured.
“Bugger,” I say as this particular penny drops. And then I tip my head back and swallow the remaining wine and ignore both this realisation and a sudden wave of light-headedness.
Still waiting on my guests to arrive, I spend a few minutes surveying my apartment and feeling something close to proud. It may be a rental, it may be small – one can walk from the end of the kitchen to the end of the living room in less than eight strides – and it may have a rather close-up view of the Thameslink railway line, but it’s mine.
Admittedly, the rent stretches me every month and makes it very hard for me to think seriously about paying off some of my credit card debt, but at the grand old age of thirty-nine, I was determined to live alone and so my options were very limited. I could have gone for a place without a second bedroom, although the dimensions of this space truly do define “box room” but I wanted a guest room for Jenna and Marty to stay in when they visited. I also wanted friends to crash there whenever they wanted to just as I have done countless times at their places during the winters of my many years working summer seasons abroad.
In the first few months of living in London full-time, the room was often occupied. I entertained frequently and hosted many after-party gatherings once the bars or even clubs kicked out. But since the beginning of this year, it’s tapered off, and more often than not I spend weekends here alone, interrupted only by gym visits and the occasional brunch or drinks with friends. But doing what I’m doing now – preparing to host a dinner, feeling proud to show off my tiny but well-decorated apartment – has become quite rare, which is a shame because it’s what I love to do most.
Was it because I stopped inviting people over? Or was it because people stopped wanting to be here?
Either possibility is not one I want to dwell on, and so I am grateful when the doorbell rings. Grateful and nervous and once again feeling a little dizzy. Blasted antihistamines and Sauvignon Blanc.
Because the video monitor for the intercom is broken, I can’t see who is outside as I buzz them in but I hope it’s Rami. I’ve been trying not to, but I can’t help but recall how tactile we both were at the wedding, so much so it helped convince one and all that we were an item. Furthermore, there was that kiss, the one after he danced for me, the one everybody saw.
And then there were the kisses outside in the garden. The ones nobody saw. Why have I been obsessing about these kisses ever since?
When I hear a knock on my door, I rush there. I pull in a breath before I open the door, suddenly anxious to see him. Possibly a little eager. Only because setting boundaries and getting us on the same page about how touchy-feely we can be is important to me. And not because I want to feel the warmth of his hand on mine. No, it’s all about the performance we have to put on. That’sit.
“Hello!” A chorus of voices greets me and before me stand Lionel and Luigi, the former holding a huge bunch of yellow roses, and the latter presenting me with a bottle of Château Neuf-du-Pape that I know has a triple-figure price tag. I’m suddenly very ashamed I bought wine from an eye-level shelf in Waitrose for this evening’s dinner.
“Oh, hi, it’s you,” I stumble with my words.
“Oh, cream crackers with brie. We’re too early, aren’t we?” Lionel says.
“Not at all!”
“We can do a turn around the block, perhaps, if you’re not ready? It’s a perfectly fine evening,” Luigi says and right on cue we all hear the wind howl down the corridor.
“No, no. No turn necessary.” I stand to the side. “Please, come on in, I was just expecting Rami.”
“Oh, he’s not here yet?” Lionel says as he steps inside, Luigi following him.
I grind my molars for a second before I reply, “He’s on his way.”
“Oh, Jake, you have such a lovely cosy place!” Lionel declares as he walks into the kitchen. With anyone else I would absolutely interpret ‘cosy’ as ‘tiny’, but with Lionel I’m going to take it as the compliment it is.
“Thank you,” I say, and I take the flowers and wine that are offered to me again. “It’s small, it’s a bit noisy with the trains, but it’s home.”
“You have two bedrooms,” Luigi says leaning to look back down the corridor. “You lucky duck. We’ve been looking for a place with another bedroom but just can’t find anything in Primrose Hill we can afford.”
No shit,I think.
“You could look in other neighbourhoods?” I offer tentatively as I go about putting the flowers in a vase of water.
“That’s what I said!” Lionel says as he walks over to the window at the far end of the living room.
“And be further away from Saskia and Bhavna? Never.”
“Who are these people?” I ask as I retrieve some glasses and go to the fridge for the Crémant I have there.
Lionel replies while walking back to the small breakfast bar that acts like a divider between my kitchen and the living-dining area. “Saskia is his Pilates instructor, and Bhavna is the barista at his favourite coffee place who knows exactly how Luigi likes his caffe leche. Never mind that Saskia is trying to get pregnant and Bhavna is in his final year of his degree so likely to return to India in a few months…”
“He’s promised me he’s going to do his PhD here. Promised me,” Lionel says accepting the glass I hand to him. “And you know Saskia. She’ll likely be leading a reformer class on the day she gives birth…”
As I hand Lionel his glass, I take in the way his eyes are practically melting as he stares at Luigi. Surprise follows my immediate reaction of feeling suddenly very happy for my friend, that he’s found someone he loves so dearly.
