Chapter 9
Theo
“Okay, no peeking,” I say, currently holding my hands over Astrid’s eyes as we try and awkwardly creep into the restaurant.
That first couple’s counselling session left me feeling a little…empty. Maybe it was because she was probing around our brain’s like an alien, or maybe it was because I could feel the contents of my wallet growing smaller by the second, (￡80 for one hour!). But either way, I couldn’t help but think she might be right about one thing, we didn’t spend any quality time together these days. I’d say we’d gotten down the dysfunctional average adult couple routine to a perfect T, the 5-9, after the 9-5. Except, within that short window of time, we did the following: dinner, shower, go our separate ways, with me playing on the Xbox and Astrid fiddling about on her laptop, then before we knew it, it was time for bed. It often felt like Groundhog Day. I’d say we only spoke to each other at dinner really, and it was small talk at that. It was funny, when we weren’t arguing, all we could seem to muster up were what I called, ‘colleague conversations.’ We swore we’d never be those people, but when we didn’t have the pitchforks out, we were talking about…the weather. Lately, it started to feel like we were becoming strangers, roommates who passed each other like ships in the night. I didn’t want this anymore; I wanted her back. Not the angsty, constantly-on-edge, grudge-holding Astrid, I longed for who she used to be, and if the first step to reconnecting was to bring back the spontaneous dinner dates, then so be it.
“Are we there yet?” Astrid says, squirming underneath my palms. I swear I notice a flicker of a smile cross her lips, even if for only a moment.
I snort, “You sound like a child on a road trip. Just one more second.”
We hobble over to the outdoor seating area, immersed in fairy lights and the gentle flicker of candles. It was summer and for once, Britain was pleasantly mild. There was a soft breeze in the air, but I knew that Astrid always preferred to sit outside during the summer months. Granted, a few people who are also occupying the area flash me a confused glance, but in this moment, I didn’t even care. I wanted to get back to the way things were, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure it happened. Tonight, Astrid was going to get everything she wanted. We were going to do what Dr Sheridan said, we were going to act as if this was our first date .
Ensuring she’s fully seated, I whisper. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
Her caramel eyes widen as she takes in her surroundings, the reflection of the fairy lights twinkling in her irises. “Oh my god, Theo. Is this where I think it is?”
I smile at her as I watch the realisation set in. I’d taken her to Giovanni’s, an independent Italian restaurant in our hometown. It also happened to be the first restaurant and I guess first, ‘date,’ I ever took her on. I remember having next to no money at the time, we were only seventeen after all. So I literally got a part-time job as a waiter, working occasional evenings after school and pretty much every weekend, in order to afford it. She was my world, and I wanted to show her. We’d sat in this exact spot back then, so thankfully I managed to use the gift of the gab with the owner to reserve exactly the same table. Clearly, the weather was on my side too.
“We haven’t been here in ages!,” she beams, flashing her whole set of teeth like she used to. My pulse quickens as I watch her dimples expand. I’d managed to make her happy, that was a good start.
“Champagne Madame?,” a small waiter with a broad Italian accent asks Astrid, as he offers to fill her empty glass.
“ Champagne?!” she sings before nodding to the waiter, “You’ve pulled out all the stops here.”
I had, it was costing me an arm and a leg to be honest. Money I also didn’t really have, especially after forking out the total for the couple’s counselling, as well as on top of this month’s mortgage and bills. But I knew it was for the greater good.
◆◆◆
Her throat hums as she takes another bite.
“This risotto is literally just as good as it was back then!”
I grin, “Glad you’re enjoying it.”
Do you know what? Tonight felt like progress, we chatted, ate delicious food, drank one too many drinks, and giggled like the teenagers we used to be. I don’t know whether it was the alcohol, but she just glowed . Her long Golden hair flowing in the wind as she sipped down the champagne and shivered with its tartness. Without thinking, I take out my phone and snap a picture of her. She squeals as the flash catches her off-guard and she spills half a glass down her silk-dress.
“Oh my god I look like I’ve pissed myself!,” she shouts before letting out a huge belly-laugh. She was definitely on a one-way ticket to tipsy-Ville.
I catch the waiters eye and mimic drinking a glass of water. Catching my drift, he immediately brings over a cup of ice water and pops it in front of her.
“No, I’m okay thank you.” She mumbles, shoving a hand in front of the waiter.
“Astrid, I think you should have some. Just take it easy.”
Her mouth agape, she directs a pointed finger in my direction, “You’re surely not telling your date how much and how much not to drink, are you?”
I gulp. Don’t start an argument. Listen to what Dr Sheridan said, divert the conversation .
Shaking my head, I grab the menu and open it up. “Shall we share some Lemon gelato?”
On our first date here, the waiter accidentally gave us one bowl of lemon gelato with two spoons, rather than two separate deserts. An honest mistake, but one that actually ended up working out in our favour. Neither of us complained, it was kind of romantic, actually.
“ Oh no.” She slurs.
“Strawberry then?” I ask.
She shifts uncomfortably on her seat, “Not the gelato Theodore.” Oh for god’s sake. “I mean, stop trying to change the subject, I knew you were funny about my drinking still!”
I couldn’t hack this. We were having a nice night. Maybe I should have opted against the champagne, it always used to get her pissed super quickly, and although tipsy Astrid could be fun. When she crossed the line though, even by a few sips, Mr. Hyde came out in full force.
“Dr Sheridan said we needed to divert the conversat-”
“ Dr Sheridan said…blah blah blah.” she says mockingly in a squeaky voice.
I hated it when she did that. I could feel myself riling up, like bait to a fish.
“I’m just trying to help us, to give us a chance. I paid enough money for it.”
She laughs dryly, “It always boils back down to that doesn’t it? Money . Why can’t you do things just because? Why do you always have to flash how much money you’ve spent?”
I exhale, “I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it. I just meant that I paid for the sessions, I want to at least try and make the most of them, otherwise it’s just money going down the drain. You know, you could try and actually help a bit yourself too?”
She slams her glass down on the table so hard, I’m surprised it didn’t shatter.
“ Try and help ? All I do is try to make this relationship work. I go to work all day, I clean up all your shit, I wash your clothes, I cook you dinner, and what thanks do I get? Let’s face it Theo, I’m essentially just a mother that you can fuck.”
Dr Sherida’s words echo in my mind, divert. Fuck that. Throwing all grace and decorum to the wind I shout, “Let’s stop pretending that I actually get any Astrid. It’s about as dry down there as the Sahara Desert!” I clearly shout this too loudly, considering by the look of absolute fury on the face of the woman sat on the table next to us, trying desperately to cover her small child’s ears.
“You know what, fuck you and this dinner. We should stop kidding ourselves now and acting like this was ever going to work.” She stands up, grabbing her cardigan from the seat and hooking it over her shoulders.
“Where are you going?!,” I shout.
“To the toilet if that’s okay with his lordship. Or do I need permission to pee now too?”
I shoo her away with my hands as I watch her stumble about through the crowded tables. Some people might say not to take anything she said to heart. After all, she was under the influence of alcohol. But I knew that her judgement wasn’t clouded and if anything, you found out who someone really was after they had a few. She wasn’t rooting for us; it was clearer than ever before that she’d given up. So why the hell was I still hanging on to the piece of thread?