The Show Must Go On

Chapter Thirty-Six: Slow Mover

Chapter Thirty-Six Soundtrack: Slow Mover by Angie McMahon

The wine is my excuse for choking.

William hands me a napkin. 'See, Olivia, you've terrified our new friend. You should at least ask what she does or what her favourite colour is. Normal things.'

'I know that already, and besides, this isn't about Ellie.' She turns to me. 'No offence. God, you're so pretty.' Then she looks back to Ian. 'This is about you. And if Ellie can help you figure out your love life, then I think we should let her.'

'What's wrong with your love life?' I ask him.

'What's right with it?' Olivia asks.

Ian winces. 'There's a guy, Ellie. That's what's wrong. It's always a guy.'

'So true,' William sighs.

'The problem, Ellie,' Ian tells me, 'is that I'm in love with him, but he won't eat my pickles.'

'Well, seduction isn't just about your pickle,' I tell him, and he spits out his drink.

'My literal pickles,' he corrects me. 'Gherkins.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

William interrupts us. 'This is Nas's pickle theory. Has he not told you about it?'

I vaguely remember something about pickles, but I'm too warm and happy to seek out the memory. I shake my head. William is delighted by the opportunity to keep talking.

'Nas has this theory that couples have to balance each other out. One of you is shy, one of you is brave. One of you is impulsive, the other is patient. You care about the same things, but you approach them differently, so you're better together than apart.'

'And the pickles are...'

Nas softly interrupts. 'One of you likes pickles, the other one hates them. So one of you eats the other's pickles and you're both happy. Simple.'

Ian continues, 'And I only like men who are exactly like me, apparently. That's what Nas says.'

'Well, Nasir always thinks he knows best,' I say.

William leans in. 'That's a good point. It's not like your love life is thriving, Nas. How's Mrs Robinson?'

'Fuck off,' Nas calmly responds.

William is still wearing a shit-eating grin. Nas is doing his best 'I don't care' face but I've seen it too often to be fooled. 'Mrs Robinson?' I ask, and the telltale vein twitches. 'Are you someone's mistress, Nasir?'

'You can fuck off too,' he tells me sweetly.

I crow. 'Only a mistress? And here I thought you could end any relationship with a sideways glance.'

He shoots me one of those glances and something terrible happens in my chest.

Of course. He's in love with someone he can't have. I know that. He told me at my party.

I'm not in love with him, anyway. It doesn't matter.

Olivia shoots me another loaded look and then loudly insists on another round of drinks. She sends William and Nas with steely-eyed delegation and, reluctantly, they troop off together. I catch Nas start to tell William something very intensely, and before they vanish from my view, they both look back at me.

The evening continues much like this: I'm thrown into ongoing conversations as a referee, learning to spot Ian's wry humour, Olivia's deft social manoeuvres, and William's genuine love for his friends. Nas is quieter with them than me, but I recognise happiness when he looks at them. He takes great pleasure in reenacting our office arguments with additional commentary, and though I try to defend myself, I come out of these stories very badly. No one believes me when I insist that I am not a bitch to most people: just to Nas. In fact, when I declare this, Olivia is so amused that she nearly chokes, and we're shouting for a doctor by the time she recovers.

In short, it's a wonderful evening. I like them instantly.

Nas interrupts himself during a long-winded story about Barry's email signatures when he sees my engagement ring on its necklace. Something sparks alive in his eyes.

William, who is considerably drunker than everyone else, takes the opportunity to nag Ian again. 'So what are you going to tell Lover Man?'

Ian sighs. 'The usual, I suppose. That he can have my kidney if he wants and thanks very much for his time, no need to call afterwards.'

'Not very assertive of you.'

'No, William, but that's not really my specialty. Not when it comes to love.'

'Are you an assertive lover, Ellie?' William asks, and Nas punches his arm.

'I'll let you know,' I tell him. The drinks have made me flushed and confident. 'I have a date tonight.'

Their conversation stops around me.

I awkwardly explain, 'After this, I mean. I have to head off soon.'

'You're dressed to impress,' Nas says. His voice is soft and dangerous. His friends are studiously looking away but I feel their attention on me like crawling ants.

'Well, it is a date.'

'Still making the effort?' His sarcasm is obvious. I catch my breath at the cruelty.

So much for his long, slow glances up my legs. So much for his hand fluttering at the back of my chair all night, twirling the ends of my hair when he isn't paying attention. I know he wants me, so how can he be so unkind? How can he suggest that romance, for me, is hopeless?

There's no way I've misinterpreted his comment. He knows how to hurt me when he wants to; it's just been a while since he's tried. Foolish of me to forget.

He laughs darkly. 'Please, don't be late on our account.' He's looking at my necklace now, where my fingers have found the ring. I'm turning it over and over.

Some things don't change.

'I won't.' I rise from my chair and look at the other three. I exclude Nas from my gaze as I say, 'Thank you for a lovely evening.'

And as I leave, I don't look back.

*

i don't want to raise hopes but soon there will be some more KISSING...

... and then eventually a lot more than kissing, but let's take things a chapter at a time please.