Chapter 3 #2
Gloria sneaks another tug on his vape. “I’m sure you’ll have a fab time, Addy. And if you don’t, that’s where the gin comes in.”
Dom runs his hand over the muscles on his forearm. “The important thing is, Theo’s really into you. You know what, I bet you’ll be engaged by the end of the summer.”
I scoff. “As if! His divorce only came through the other week.”
Gloria sits up. “I just thought, could that be why the ex-wife’s causing trouble?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t see why; he gave her everything she wanted.”
Gloria wags his finger. “Addy, that bitch is on a revenge trip. I bet she’s plotting how to ruin your summer.”
“You’d better keep an eye on her,” agrees Dom, smoothing his moustache. “This may not be the end of it.”
I tip back the rest of my drink. “Fuck. That’s all I need.”
“Yeah, but look on the bright side,” chirps Gloria. “Whatever happens, we’ve still got our sisterly weekend.”
As soon as I told my friends that Theo and I were spending the summer in Italy, they started researching flights—and within a few hours had booked to come and visit for the first weekend in August. At the time, that was three weeks before the kids were arriving, so I thought it would work well. Now I’m not so sure.
Dom rubs his hands together. “I can’t wait to get to that castle, dump my stuff and open Grindr.”
Gloria lets out a whinny of excitement. “Same! I’ve always loved a nice, thick Italian salami.”
“You’ll be pleased to know I’ve already been researching the gay bars,” says Ian. “There’s one about twenty minutes away—on a gay beach!”
“Yes!” squeals Gloria.
“Get in!” booms Dom.
I smile but can feel my anxiety rising. What’s it going to be like seeing my two worlds collide? What’s going to happen when my sisters come face to face with a pair of sulky teenagers—and an eight-year-old boy who just wants to play Top Trumps?
When the waiter arrives to clear our plates, I excuse myself to go to the toilet. When I re-emerge, Ian is waiting for me in the corridor.
“Alright, my sister?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
He frowns. “I just picked up on a bit of anxiety behind your smiles.”
I lean on the wall and let out a breath. “I am anxious, yeah. I’m anxious about the kids. I’m anxious it’ll all be too much for Theo.”
A woman with sharp cheekbones emerges from the Ladies and totters past us on treacherously high heels.
“I know it’s going to be challenging,” Ian answers. “But basically you’ve got to try and relax. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. And don’t let your abandonment issues get in the way.”
I turn to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Adam, every time you’ve been out with someone you’ve spent your whole time terrified they’ll leave you.”
“And they did! They all left me, every single one of them.”
That’s not to say that it hurt the same every time.
I once dated a man called Jeff, who was addicted to steroids and building up muscle in the gym.
As his personality was ninety-percent pectorals, I hardly batted an eyelid when he left me.
But then there was Steve, the sweet estate agent I dated in my early thirties and became convinced was cheating on me with his best friend—not that I had a scrap of evidence.
Until he announced he’d had enough of my paranoia and walked out on me just before our third anniversary.
Even revisiting the memory all these years later, I still feel the flare of shame.
A man who’s spilled a dollop of what looks like cheese sauce down his shirt walks towards the Gents, unzipping his fly in advance.
“But it was like you were expecting it,” Ian continues, “almost goading them to leave you. And when they did it was like you were relieved, or felt vindicated, because you’d proved you were right. You had more evidence to back up that story you tell yourself, that everyone leaves you.”
I feel exposed and wriggle my back against the wall. “God, Ian, I don’t know what was in those cocktails but you’re not holding back.”
“Sorry, my sister, I just know how important this is to you. I know how high the stakes are.”
From the other side of the restaurant comes the sound of a coffee machine hissing.
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t want to be with any of my exes now,” I say. “So it all worked out for the best.”
Ian nods. “Theo’s a much better bloke than all of them.”
I mime shock. “Excuse me, that’s not what you said at the beginning!”
“I know but we were just looking out for you. We only knew Theo on paper. Once we got to know him, we all came round.”
The man with food on his shirt re-emerges from the Gents, rearranging his crotch.
“You know, all I ever wanted was to find a man who loves me,” I say, “a man who’ll never stop loving me. And this is the best chance I’ve had. Probably the best chance I’ll ever have.”
Ian tugs a hand through his silver hair. “That’s why I don’t want you to be insecure and introduce any unnecessary tension. I just want you to get it right, Adam.”
“Excuse me, I want to get it right. I don’t want to feel vindicated, or whatever it was you said earlier.”
“Good.” Ian pulls out his stick of lip balm and runs it over his lips. “Just because something’s been your story for a long time doesn’t mean it has to be forever.”
“Absolutely. I’m not that person anymore.” But even as I say the words, I’m not sure they’re true.
“Right, coaching session over.” Ian pushes himself off the wall.
“Thank fuck for that!”
We wind our way back through the restaurant and over to the table, where we find Gloria chatting up a bemused-looking waiter. “In case you’re wondering,” he says, batting his eyelashes, “I identify as sensational.”
The waiter offloads a tray of shots and dashes away.
“What are these?” I ask, sitting down.
“Sambuca,” Gloria answers, lifting his vape from under the table and no longer bothering to hide it. “It’s Italian, isn’t it?”
Dom lifts a glass. “Whatever it is, it’ll do me.”
We each tip back a shot. The hot aniseed burns my throat.
“Now let’s pay the bill and get out of here!” tweets Gloria.
“I need to get away from these loved-up couples before I catch something,” says Dom. He turns to me, as if he’s just remembered. “No offense, Adam.”
Gloria opens the camera on his phone and reapplies his lipstick. “Luckily for you bitches, I’ve booked us into a drag show in the Village.”
I roll my eyes in mock exasperation. “Gloria, you know I’ve got a flight at nine in the morning.”
He bats away my objection, his bracelets jangling. “Yeah, yeah. It’s not every day your sister moves to a castle in Italy. We’ve got to give you a good send-off!”