Read by Gloria Sanders
Edd had known Megan for a while, slightly, and secretly really liked her. And then he went to a dinner party where she was there, and liked her more. And then invited her to tea, like you do with friends, and after that he was totally lost.
"Edd!" she said with warm surprise. "How are you?"
"I'm in need of your womanly advice." He had prepared this line, staring at his phone trying to have the courage to dial. "It’s Megan."
"Oh?" She sounded cautious.
"I know. I'm probably number ten in the queue. She came to tea. She's so…"
All evening, Megan had said everything right, everything he wanted to hear. "I'm really busy with my job," she said. "I haven't really got time for a too intense relationship." Exactly! Edd felt the same. "Definitely not intense," he agreed, his eyes boring into hers. Edd was a fit lad. He really liked it how she was a bit preoccupied, and was impervious to his looks. When she'd gone he started thinking about them going on holiday. Then about when she'd move in. Then about their children.
The next day he messaged her. It had to sound friendly but not too pushy. "Thanks for coming to tea,” he wrote. “Let's do something else." The reply – "Thanks. It was a treat." – didn’t include a yes to the second part.
Edd was twenty-eight, with his own flat and car, and a good job in quantity surveying and if he was on the lookout for signals, he could spot them. And he could spot their absence. But Megan was special. She was different, subtle and complex. He felt like a small boat when the sea's getting rough.
"I don't know what's happening," he fretted to Bex. "I can't think of anything but her. I mean, can you ask her what she thinks of me?"
Two days. He couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Could barely work. Two days and still Bex didn't phone. Nor did Megan. “Looking a wreck, Edd,” he told the mirror, “is not going to help your prospects.” Finally he rang Bex, to hear the worst.
"She thinks you’re sweet. She wants to be friends," said Bex.
"That bad?” He grimaced at the phone. “She's not persuadable?"
"Not really."
"I suppose I have to get drunk now, and be promiscuous."
There was a silence. "You can come over if you want," said Bex. "Though I'll pass, thanks, on the promiscuous part."
"I was only joking," said Edd.
He took a bottle of wine from the wine-rack, and his toothbrush, and went out to the car.
"Why doesn't she like me?" he complained, opening a second bottle for them. "I need a hug," he sobbed, opening a third. On the sofa, Bex put her arms round him. "Apart from you,” said Edd, “she's the only interesting woman I've met for years."
Shortly they started snogging, then they took each others' clothes off, and then they went to bed.
The next day, it was the hurry to work. "Come over tonight if you want," said Bex, while pulling on her smart blouse. "It's OK," said Edd, "but you know, thanks." She grimaced.
***
Megan never rang. Edd never rang her. They saw each other with the rest of their extensive and sociable group of friends, and it was like nothing had ever happened. Well, nothing had ever happened. One day in his presence, when eight or nine of them had gone bowling, she said something that he considered embarrassingly naff, and his withered crush finally died. Megan, who had been briefly cautious of him, soon relaxed. They became friends.
He also saw Bex, often at the same parties and events, and it was almost like nothing had ever happened. She was ostensibly as friendly as before, aside from a nearly imperceptible aloofness, which doubtless no-one spotted but him. She always looked so good, and was so witty at dinner parties. He began to try remembering the night they'd slept together. It was so hazy now. Damn! He started admiring her for the way she could sleep with him like that and then be so cool afterwards. Most lasses caused you hassle about it. She was definitely unique. Damn again! Why hadn't he continued going out with her then, instead of being so stupidly obsessed with nice-but-unsexy Megan?
After a summer tennis match, and casually, as friends do, Edd invited Bex to tea. He cleaned the flat, he had his hair cut, he made himself look smart but casual, he did his best recipe – smoked mackerel bake, the same as he'd made for Megan – and Bex looked cool and made jokes, and Edd knew it all the more. He just knew it.
"I don't know what to do," he moped on the phone to Megan. "She's so marvellous. I'm not worthy of her."
"I'll ask her if she's interested in you, if you like," offered Megan kindly. "But I think she's not." And sure enough, after Megan got round to meeting up with Bex, after four days of hope and agony, after Edd’s heart had been mortgaged up to the hilt – after all that, she really liked him as a friend.
"Edd, are you OK?" asked Megan down the phone. "You're all right, aren't you? You won't do anything silly, will you?"
"I'm going to get drunk and cry. I mean cry some more," wept Edd.
"You poor soul," said Megan kindly. "I know what it's like. I had a massive thing for Dermot six months ago, and he wasn't interested."
"You're a great mate," sobbed Edd.
"If you want to come and talk about it, that's OK."
Edd clicked off the phone and blew his nose. Why didn't Bex want him? Why? Why? Why?
Then he took a bottle of wine from the wine-rack, and his toothbrush, and went out in the car to Megan's.
(c) Guy Russell, 2016
Guy Russell was born in Chatham and has been a holiday courier, purchasing clerk, media analyst and fan-heater production operative. He currently works in Milton Keynes for the Open University. Work in Brace (Comma), Troubles Swapped for Something Fresh (Salt), The Iron Book of New Humorous Verse (Iron) and magazines.
Gloria Sanders's work includes audio-book narration for the RNIB and frequent collaborations with Cabinets of Curiosity. She has performed The Clock, her devised one-woman show with Hide and Seek Theatre, at the Brighton Fringe, the Pleasance, Islington, and the Ghent Artscene Festival.
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