Chapter 22
FROM TUNA TO SARDINES
SHARI
This is it. The day has come. My doom is nigh. Just march me to the guillotine. Melodramatic? Perhaps. But I have that foreboding feeling creeping along my spine again as I walk into The Full English for the second weekend in a row.
Rosie spots me as I walk in and hurries over, “Morning, Shari.
Brad and his...guest are already here. When I saw he'd reserved a table for three, I assumed it'd be the two of you and little Lizzie again!” I know she's fishing for gossip, but I'm too caught in my own head to care or engage, so I just offer a tight smile.
Taking the hint, she shows me to the table where the happy couple are whispering to each other and happily grinning in their own happy bubble. Happy, happy, happy.
Brad spots me first, and it's almost comical how fast he springs up from his seat. “Shari! You're here! Morning!” He seems to hesitate for a split second before he leans in to peck me on the cheek as usual.
As he pulls back, I see Larissa is also standing, wringing her fingers together. “Shari, this is Larissa, my girlfriend. Larissa, this is Shari…” he trails off. At least he didn't say ‘Lizzie's mum’, that would have been a kick in the teeth.
She really is pretty – her shiny, light brown hair brushes her shoulders in a very slight wave, and the paleness of her skin makes the colour appear almost gold when the light hits.
“Hi Larissa, it's so nice to meet you. Brad talks about you all the time.” I feel awkward, but I take pity on the poor girl who looks even more nervous than I do, and I pull her in for a hug. She immediately melts into my embrace, and a whiff of lavender tiptoes its way into my nostrils.
“Oh, it's so good to finally meet you, Shari.
Brad's told me so much about you. He always talks so highly of you and I can see why already.
I have to say I've been so nervous about today, I feel like your blessing is more important than his parents’.
Not that I'm asking for your blessing, that makes it sound like I'm aiming for marriage! Hahahahaha that’d be daft, it's way too early to be thinking about that kind of thing, not yet anyways.
I just meant your stamp of approval. Because Brad holds your opinion in such high regard, and I know if you didn't approve he'd be rethinking everything—” I see Brad gently tug on her hand as he tries to hide his smile.
Her face curls into a grimace, and I find myself reluctantly liking her all the more for her nervousness.
God knows I have verbal diarrhoea when I'm nervous, too.
With a low laugh, I grip her upper arms. “I know exactly what you mean, Larissa.
But believe it or not, I'm just as nervous as you, so we're all on the same playing field.” I smile, watching her grimace melt into an expression of disbelief.
Up close, I can see that her warm, brown eyes have bursts of amber in them.
“You are? But...why?”
I indicate for us all to sit and decide to be mostly honest. “Because this is the first time Brad's ever considered dating someone, let alone seriously enough to warrant introducing her to our daughter.
It's a big deal, and if you and I didn't get along, it would throw a huge spanner in the works. And probably put a big strain on my co-parenting...friendship with Brad, too.”
“No pressure,” she mumbles to her lap.
Brad and I share a smile because, damnit, she's adorable, “Rest assured, Larissa, so far, so good.”
She perks up at that and the atmosphere is light as we order and wait for our food. Clinking cutlery and the low buzz of conversations happening around us provide our backing track.
“So, you're a primary teacher? The kids must adore you. Which year are you teaching at the moment?”
“Oh, I have the tiniest this year! Reception. They're honestly the cutest little things. It can be hectic trying to keep their attention for too long, but their sweet innocence makes up for it,” she gushes.
“I’ll bet! Are they your favourite year to teach?”
I can see Brad smiling softly next to her. He's obviously so smitten, it's both adorable and sickening.
“I do love them, but my favourite is Year 3. They're just at that age where they're interested in learning, are mostly past having tantrums, and aren't quite old enough for preteen hormones to kick in yet. The Goldilocks age,” she grins.
“That does sound like a good age,” I laugh. “How long have you been teaching?”
“This is my fifth year now, I started straight after uni, since it was always my plan to be a teacher.”
“I guess that makes you twenty-six? Twenty-seven?”
“Riss turned twenty-seven in August, clearly I have a thing for older women,” Brad jokes, wagging his eyebrows. They both chuckle, but I can only offer a half-hearted smile because two years age gap isn't quite the same as eighteen, is it.
Brad's brow furrows when he sees I'm not laughing, but we're interrupted by Rosie setting down our food before he can say anything.
As I take the first bite of my brunch, I nearly moan around the fork. The creamy avocado, the crunch of the sourdough toast, all cut through with the bite of chilli? Divine.
“Brad told me you're originally from Malaysia, whereabouts, though?”
“I am, indeed. Born and raised in a suburb of the capital, Kuala Lumpur. If you're wondering about the lack of accent,” because that's almost always the first thing people ask, “it's because I went to a British international school.”
“Do you speak Malay? That is the national language, isn't it?”
Laughing, I shake my head self-deprecatingly. “Unfortunately, my Malay is shockingly poor. I was pretty fluent until about the age of eight, but honestly, no one speaks Malay to me, so I forgot most of it.”
“Oh, wow, when did you actually move here then?” Larissa asks, wide-eyed. She looks so genuinely invested in my answers, it's frustratingly endearing.
“Uni. I came over at eighteen to do my degree and then the plan was always to move home, or somewhere else abroad. I hadn't intended on staying in the U.K. But best laid plans and all that…” I trail off with a small smile.
“And how come you stayed? I hope you don't mind me asking so many questions!” her eyes flick back to Brad as if she's worried either of us will be annoyed with her.
“I don't mind at all, Larissa,” I reach across the table and gently squeeze her forearm.
“Well, tale as old as time is why I stayed.
I met a boy in my second year, so I ultimately stayed for him.
We were married by the time I was twenty-five and divorced by thirty-eight.
But I can't regret any of it,” I shrug. I can feel Brad's attention on my face, but when I look up, he tears his eyes away.
He seems pretty happy for us to dominate the conversation whilst he sits on the sidelines.
“Enough about me, though. Brad tells me you're best mates with Amy and sometimes help out in The HarBar?”
Just as Larissa is about to reply, we're interrupted by a sound I'd hoped never to hear again. “Oh my god, Brad?” pipes up a familiar voice behind me, like nails down a chalkboard. “I haven't seen you since after our graduation party! Are you living here in Bristol now?”
I don't have to turn to know it's one of the Barbie Bitch Brigade – when I spin in my chair I see I was right, and that it's none other than queen bee herself, Keeley.
Her eyes flick down to me, and she does a double take. “You're not seriously still with the OAP, are you?”
“Ah, Queen Triple B, never a pleasure, always a chore,” I spit.
“Triple B? Are you as thick as you are elderly, or is that the senility setting in? If you're trying to insult my bra size, you clearly don't know how that works. I'm a double D, you blind old bint.”
“Well, bully for you! If you must know, Triple B stands for Barbie Bitch Brigade. The moniker I gave you and your clonies,” I hold up a hand to stop her from butting in, “And before you tell me it's ‘cronies’, I know. That's what we call a play on words.”
Why is she here? Why do you hate me, universe?
“Listen, slag—”
“Keeley, back off,” Brad’s warning rumble travels across my skin.
“—you think you're so special because you spread your legs—”
“Excuse me, I don't know who you are, but you need to calm down.
You're being very rude and unkind. You need to apologise to Shari right now.” To say I'm shocked that sweet little Larissa has stepped in to my defence would be a gross understatement.
I practically have to pick my jaw up off the floor seeing her in teacher mode.
“Who in the fuck are you?” Keeley's eyes flick down to where Brad and Larissa are holding hands and she cackles.
“Wow. Brad, your taste in women is shocking.
You've gone from tuna to sardines and I don't know which is worse.
I don't understand you at all, you could have been having caviar this whole time!” she gestures at herself. Conceited much?
Brad stands so suddenly that his chair topples backwards, and I see that several phones are already trained on our table.
“That is enough!” he growls. “You need to remove your stuck-up, vile, ugly arse from our vicinity. I hope we never cross paths again because you are a disgusting excuse for a human being.”
Shocked, Keeley scoffs, but when she notices the number of people recording her outburst, she stomps her foot with a huff, and storms out of the building.
When I finally turn back to the table, Brad has his arm around Larissa, comforting her.
“Clearly, Keeley needs to go back to primary school because she never grew out of the tantrum phase,” I joke in hopes of lightening the mood again. Because Larissa really is sweet, and I hate that she looks so unsure of herself now.
I love that Brad stood up for her with Keeley, I just wish I had someone to stand up for me too. And I wish that I didn't want it to be Brad.
brAD
I cannot believe that Keeley was just here. What the hell is she doing in Bristol? One of the best parts of moving out of Exeter was getting away from her and her toxic mates. Fuck, I hope she doesn't live here now.
The last time I saw Keeley was a few weeks after my twenty-third birthday – when she triggered the end of my relationship with Shari.
She'd been trying to get in touch constantly after that weekend, and I ended up deleting all her messages and voicemails without reading or listening to them, eventually blocking her number completely.
I guess she hadn't been happy with being ignored, so she turned up at the bar I worked in at the time and harassed me until I would hear her out.
I didn't want to pander to her, but I did want her to fuck off.
She apologised. Sort of. Said she hadn't realised she shouldn't be drinking on some medication she was taking and it made her crazy.
An absolute load of shite, obviously, but I was so furious with her for causing my break up – if you could even call it that – with Shari that I couldn't look at her face.
Eventually, she left when she realised I wasn't going to fawn all over her, and thankfully, I never saw her again. Until now.
My arm is wrapped around Larissa, rubbing her shoulder to comfort her. She's sweet and sensitive, and I can only imagine the mean girl treatment would have hurt her. Granted, she got off lightly where Keeley is concerned, but she shouldn't have had to bear any of that in the first place.
So I'm focusing on Larissa. My girlfriend. Because the terrible truth is that I'm more concerned about Shari. I know she can handle herself, but she shouldn't have to, either. I want to protect her. But I keep my attention on Larissa because that's where I should be focusing.
“Brad, did you hear me?” Larissa's quiet voice filters through.
“Hmmm? Sorry, sweetie, no. I was stewing in my thoughts. Are you ok?”
“Yes, I'm fine. I said I think I need to go check on Shari, she's been in the loo a while.”
My head snaps up to where Shari should be seated. I was so deep in my own head that I didn't even notice her leaving the table. How long has she been gone?
“I’ll go,” I say, already moving to stand.
“Brad, she's in the ladies’ toilet. You won't be able to go in there. It's ok, I'll go. I just want to make sure she's alright after that...that horrible woman!” Her little fists clench and it makes me grin. She really is too cute.
While she's gone, I pay the bill and berate myself internally for loving the wrong woman. I know that I have to let Shari go – emotionally – to have a real shot at a future with Larissa. I just don't know how.
Soon enough they're walking back, arm-in-arm, talking quietly and smiling together. But once again, my eyes are magnetised to the wrong woman. My stomach clenches for the wrong woman. My heart rate increases for the wrong woman.
How do I let her go when I have to keep her in my life?