Chapter 19
19
It takes me a bit of arm-twisting, but I manage to persuade Shona to help Wale with organizing the gala.
‘I’m not asking you to do this for him. Or even for me. Do it for the carers.’
She huffs. ‘Like it’s not weird enough you working with your ex. You want me tied to him as well.’
‘Wale and I are in a good place!’ I contemplate whether or not to tell her about the kiss. Does it even mean anything? After all, it wasn’t a real kiss. And Wale is such a tease, it’s hard to take him seriously sometimes.
‘Hello? Are you still there?’ she says.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘You didn’t catch what I said? I said, “Fine. As long as Wale introduces me to his celeb friends, I’ll help him.” Might as well get something out of it.’
After we end the call, I resume drafting the work chapter.
People assumed my charity job was just a nine-to-five
The truth is so much deeper than that
I channel Kathy and Wale’s passion. At some point, Wale is going to have to tell me about his caring experience – right now, I’m only writing half the story. Every now and then, Love Drive pops to mind but, like a gambler, I can’t stop.
The following morning, I pay for my actions. I wake up at 11.36 a.m.
Shit! My plan was to get up early to work on Love Drive .
I’m about to jump out of bed when my phone chirps.
Wale!
I scrabble for it underneath my pillow, embarrassed by how weak-willed I’ve become. Gosh, what’s wrong with me? I glance at the screen. It is a text from Wale.
Wale:
Tems! How’s your day going? You free to interview Fonzo later? Was thinking I’ll book a table for the three of us
I still myself. Should I wait an hour before I respond? The guy already thinks I want to kiss him; I don’t want to come across eager. But then again, this is a work matter. Sod it. I draft a reply:
Temi:
Morning. Not long woke up. I am free. How about six?
Less than a minute, my phone chirps again. Someone’s keen.
Wale:
Just started your day?! Tems, it’s nearly twelve! Let me guess, you’re still in bed?
I’m still drafting a reply when my phone pings with a new message.
Wale:
*in bed drinking herbal tea, wearing a hair bonnet
I crack up. Nice try. I delete the message I was typing.
Temi:
I’ll have you know I was burning the midnight oil working on your memoir!
And then I follow it up with another text.
Temi:
PS I’m wearing my pink bonnet
Within seconds, my phone chimes.
Wale:
The one that says Diva on the back with studs?
I curl back under the covers, holding my phone over my face.
Temi:
Yup
I hit the send button too quickly. I send another.
Temi:
Although, it currently says Div. I didn’t follow the washing instructions.
Put it in the dryer
My phone pings in quick succession.
Wale:
LMAO!
Wale:
Divvy move lol
Wale:
I’m not calling you a div
I reply:
Temi:
You better not be!
And then he replies:
Wale:
This evening, how about we go Jam Delish?
I stare at his message in thought. Jam Delish is a Black-owned Caribbean vegan restaurant in Angel. It also happens to be high on the list of places Wale and I were keen to check out while we were together. Yesterday, after he found a restaurant for us to eat at, I deliberately moved us to takeaway – too close to date vibes. I wonder why he picked Jam Delish? To make me feel nostalgic? But if he wanted me to feel nostalgic he would pick a restaurant we went to all the time, like Chuku’s. Anyway, Fonzo will be there. It’s just a work meeting. Plus, it’s a popular spot … Hmm. I wonder if Wale has thought this through. I draft a reply.
Temi:
Sure, but will you be OK? There’s likely to be a lot of people. I don’t want you feeling paranoid. I don’t mind us meeting at Anansi Books if easier?
Wale’s reply comes in after three minutes. But it felt like three hours.
Wale:
Thanks. That’s very sweet of you. I’ll be alright. My therapist says it’s part of exposure therapy :)
Sweet . I analyse the word as though I’m studying for my GCSE exams.
My phone pings.
Wale:
Sorry, gotta go. Have a good one
And again:
Wale:
X
I stare at the kiss.
In that moment, my decision on whether or not to send Wale a kiss back seems momentous, life or death. If I choose not to, I’ll be making a statement. No, I didn’t want to kiss you in the park, actually. And no, there’s zero chance of us getting back together. Zilch. But if I reply, I’m indirectly saying that I’m open.
Temi:
Cool. See you soon X
After I shower and have breakfast (well, lunch), I sit my bum at my desk and put on some Amapiano music. Right, I’m going to work on Love Drive .
I only manage to write roughly 800 words. It feels like I’m wading through a muddy swamp. I keep on starting and stopping and starting again. No matter how hard I try, I can’t enter into a flow state. I had blitzed a novel not too long ago. Why can’t I produce the same magic again? I even have deadline pressure this time. Maybe this is just part of the process for this book. I have to push through.
Later that evening, I blast some feel-good music. I put on a chic top, a leather skirt and Sasha again. I’m nearing Jam Delish when I stop and put my phone on selfie mode. Quickly, I give my hair a fluff, rub and then pop my glossed lips. Perfect.
I open the door to a hit of succulent smells: barbecue jerk laced with curry and spices. There’s a buzz of chatter over a reggae beat. I was right. The place is heaving.
A waiter greets me. I tell her I have a reservation. She grabs a menu and leads me past rows of tables, brass pendant lights hanging over the top.
And then my legs come to an abrupt stop. My heart leaps to my throat.
This evening, I expected a party of three but it appears we’re a party of four.
‘Y’right, Temi,’ says Kojo, lifting his chin a little to greet me. ‘Long time.’