Trying to Throw my Arms Around the World

Metaphors and spritzers

Metaphors and spritzers

Alex and Lou were seated at the bar, their heads huddled closely together, seemingly plotting something ultra-secret. The sight of Lou cramped a considerable amount of muscles in my body, so much so that I stopped walking towards her abruptly as fear spasmed through me. But, as always with fear, I knew how to nip it in the bud before it took over completely, and I was in the perfect place for it − a pub. My heart hammered dizzy dopamine-fuelled blood through my veins at a speed I could barely cope with, but I had to go forth and re-conquer the girl.

“What a sight for sore eyes,” I said and instantly realised I should have worked on my opening line a bit longer. On top of that, my voice cracked and sounded mousy, almost creepy really. I needed a drink fast. Lou wore a velvet dirty-green zipped-up jacket, its collar so high up it touched the bottom of her chin. Meanwhile, nervous sweat drenched the back op my tank-top. Was this a sign disguised as a metaphor? I was hot for her but she would remain cold and guarded, dressed in the softest velvet I would never touch again? If she was at all stunned to see me, she didn’t let on. Her almond-shaped eyes scanned me from head to toe, stirring serious doubts in me about the choice of my outfit, and, at last, after what seemed like hours of unbearable tension, halted somewhere around the edge of my right cheek. Did I have some food stuck there? Or did she just not want to look me in the eye?

“For you maybe,” she said.

“Leesbian,” Alex interjected, “what a surprise to see you here.” Alex was many things − reliable, over-dressed, foul-mouthed, camp as knickers, my best friend, etc − but a convincing actor was not one of them. Lou looked at him, then at me, disbelief (or was it something else?) colouring her cheeks redder and redder.

“I can’t believe this, Alex. You set me up. You bastard.”

“I asked him to,” I said but it was as if I had ceased to exist, as if Alex luring her to the pub was such a blatant case of betrayal it deserved so much more attention than me actually standing there, in front of her, with myself on offer, ready to be abused, scolded, shouted at, whatever it took to get her to listen to me afterwards.

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think it was necessary, Lou. Please, just hear Lee out. She has a bit of a dramatic way about her, but she means well. And she has the hots for you. In fact, I think she may actually be−”

“May I please be allowed to speak for myself?” I asked.

“I’ll leave you ladies to it,” Alex said. “Be nice to each other.” He kissed us both on the cheek and scooted off, humming Love Is in the Air.

“I thought you’d be busy shagging your trainer.” She was pissed off enough to show it in her words, which, in my foggy strung-out mind-set, represented at least caring enough to stay.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I needed something to dilute the terror rattling through my blood, even if it was just a glass to hold on to, preferably a glass of perfectly chilled Pinot Grigio.

“I’ll have a white whine spritzer. I usually drink those in about ten minutes. That’s how much time you have.” I racked my brain for a way to transform the hardness, the bitterness etched across her face into something softer, something willing to forgive.

To be continued…