Chapter 8 #2
When I was nine, I got sick and lost a lot of weight.
In a bid to get me eating again Mum asked me what my favourite thing in the whole world to eat was so she could make it for me, and I said lasagne.
That half-delusional, completely unconsidered answer has stuck ever since, and she makes it for me almost every time I come round.
You’d think she’d have got the knack of it by now, but the variety in standard of lasagne changes so much each time, it’s quite staggering really.
I should tell her that I’m not even that keen on it, never have been really, but whenever I see the pride on her face as she puts down the dish in the middle of the table, I know I never will.
‘Mum?’ I call. ‘Something’s burning.’
Mum hurries into the kitchen, a harried look on her face as she surveys the scene for the possible source. ‘Oh, that was only the onions. All sorted. Hello, you.’
She comes towards me and pulls me into a hug before letting go and pulling the hair from behind my ears. ‘You look tired.’
‘Not really,’ I lie.
‘Another date was it?’ she asks. It’s been years since I brought someone to Mum’s house with me, and I rarely let her know about the men I go out with unless weeks with them spill into months, but she’s like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out dates, especially the bad ones.
She can always tell when I’ve been on one when I arrive at hers on Sunday afternoon, no matter how hard I try to hide my disappointment and grumpiness from her.
I must be giving out bad date vibes today, but that’s wrong. Jordan was lovely. I don’t want to let these temporary weird feelings about Elliot and Teddy’s first date leak into how I feel about my date with Jordan.
I give her a big smile, hoping it reaches all the way to my eyes like it should. ‘Yeah. A good one.’
She makes a sceptical mmmm sound and shakes her head as she leans across me to get two wine glasses from the cupboard I’m standing next to.
‘I don’t know how you do it, Lizzie. If I was you, I’d be completely battle weary by all this online dating now. Don’t they all blend into one another after a while?’
Mum not putting herself out there to find love is a decision of hers I respect.
She met Dad when she was eighteen, as soon as she started university.
For the first year, he lived on the floor below her in halls of residence, and after that they house shared until graduation.
It was only when they went back to their family homes to start their careers – Mum as an accountant, Dad working in IT – they realised they had something on their hands that was more than friendship and Dad moved to Manchester so they could start a life together.
Mum must have trusted completely in their relationship, and it didn’t work.
She must have thought she knew Dad entirely, but somewhere along the way they lost each other and saw versions of each other they no longer liked.
I get it. She’s been hurt and she doesn’t want to go through the rigmarole of falling in love only for it to happen again.
It’s not like she’s ever told me I should follow in her footsteps or anything like that, but she certainly disapproves of the effort I’m putting into meeting someone, and whenever that disapproval ekes out, I get an odd urge to gallantly defend the men I’ve gone out with even if they were complete idiots.
I don’t want to believe there aren’t any decent men out there, and I don’t want Mum to believe it either.
‘No, they really don’t. Besides, Jordan wasn’t someone I met online. I was set up with him by Karina. She thought we’d get on well, and we did.’
Mum, who considers Karina one of the most polite, charming people on earth ever since she first came to the house when she was sixteen and complimented Mum on her excellent cooking, changes her expression at that and nods in approval.
‘Well, that’s something, I suppose. Glad you had a nice night, love. You know, you must invite the girls round soon. It’s been ages since I’ve seen them.’
‘Yeah, I will.’
She pours us both a glass of wine and orders me to put my feet up and watch some TV in the lounge while she finishes off. I do as I’m told, but before I turn on the TV, I get out my phone.
Mum was right. It is something to have been set up with Jordan.
It is something that last night was great.
I’ve been putting off texting him all day, playing the usual guessing game of when the perfect time is to get in touch, but I decide I don’t care.
I want to text him, want to sit with my phone next to me pretending to be following the programme I’m watching rather than waiting anxiously for a reply.
It doesn’t matter that I’m regretting bringing Elliot into this, that I want to put him back into his box as my work friend.
It doesn’t matter that Jordan wasn’t Karina’s best ex.
It doesn’t matter that I didn’t wake up this morning as full of excitement as some of my past dates have made me feel.
Look how they turned out. I want to focus on making this set-up work, so I bring up our messages and start typing.
LIZZIE: Thanks so much for last night. Would love to get to know you more. Are you free next week?
Mum calls me for tea, and I reluctantly leave my phone in the lounge.
Forty-five minutes and two portions of a lasagne smashing its way into the top five worst meals Mum has ever made, I’m able to return to it when Mum insists on filling the dishwasher herself and puts me in charge of finding us a film to watch on Netflix.
I’ve two messages waiting for me, which I read in quick succession. I’m not sure which makes me smile more.
JORDAN: Had a great time last night. Karina did a great job setting us up together. Am definitely free next week!
KARINA: What were you thinking, Teddy? I cannot understand what possessed you to break up with Matthew. I’ve just had the single best date of my life. He’s amazing. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!