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Authors: Samantha Tonge
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but she leaves for New York exactly one week today.’
‘You’re right. What’s the worst that can happen? Nothing. The worst already has.’ He held out his hand. I slipped mine into his and squeezed.
‘Actually, that was my way of asking for my keys,’ he said gruffly. But his eyes twinkled at this early stage of… perhaps a new friendship.
I climbed out the car with renewed energy at the turn of events. Dave and me had just shared our first ever meaningful conversation. And even though I didn’t know Theo well, for some extraordinary reason he was the person I wanted to ring up and tell.
Chapter Six – Jasmine
‘So who’s Theo?’ I said to Mikey, over scrambled eggs, just the way I liked them (milky with a pinch of nutmeg. Blame my fine-dining aunt who was the one stable relative from my childhood). We sat at the breakfast bar. Just before, I’d pulled the blinds, to let sun stream in, lighting up the flat. Friends of mine always said how manly it looked, as if they expected it to be strewn with fluorescent leg warmers and feather boas because I lived with a gay guy.
Mikey blushed. He blushed!
‘Huh?’ he said and rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Well, let’s see…’ I looked at my watch. ‘It’s half-past seven. We’ve both been up one hour and you’ve already mentioned him three times.’ I raised my eyebrows. This secret unrequited crush – could it finally be coming out into the open? Could the object of Mikey’s affection be this Theo, whom I’d never heard him talk of before? Is this man reciprocating my dear flatmate’s feelings at last?
He tutted and pointed to the headline in the paper. ‘Unemployment has risen again.’
‘Mikey!’
He looked up. ‘What?’
‘Theo!’
‘Oh, he’s just a friend of Sanjay’s…we bumped into each other at the gym yesterday.’
‘Was it him you were on the phone to last night for over one hour? What were you talking about? I could have sworn I heard you mention Dave. Were you telling him about the Hollandaise sauce incident? You laughed enough and–’
‘Had a glass to my bedroom wall did you?’
‘No! You left the door open and–’
Mikey knocked back his orange juice. ‘Right, better go. It’s the monthly Butterfields nursing home fifties lunch.’ He kissed me on the forehead. ‘See you tonight, sweetheart, and when you go to Bladen Place market today, could you pick me up a bag of that German apple pie spice? It’s the only place I can buy it and John’s running short.’
Taking the hint not to quiz him further, I stuck out my tongue, but warmth radiated through my veins. How good it was to hear Mikey chat about a potential love interest (I’d decided that’s what this Theo was) because… my eyes pricked… whilst I couldn’t wait for New York, part of me ached at leaving my single flatmate behind. Whereas if he were in a new relationship, it would be less of a wrench to say good bye.
Mikey so deserved to be happy – take this dementia care lunch. He made no profit from it, as he closed the rest of the diner for a couple of hours and the old folk didn’t fill all the seats, but knew how much the residents enjoyed being whisked back in time, to an era they could remember with confidence. I’d assisted him once and helped one elderly lady eat her hotdog. She remembered all the old bands, The Drifters being particular favourites. I smiled. She’d ordered a chocolate milkshake with two straws, because she and her husband could only afford to share one, when courting. Mikey had been brill at explaining away his death, saying he’d be along later and then charmed her into getting up and gently dancing with him.
I drained my teacup and two hours later was quaffing coffee in the office, whilst ploughing through job applications. Some people had no idea. Under “Interests” one woman had put “Gaming until one in the morning.” I wanted interests that shouted “I’m a team player” or “pick me, a well-organised
‘You’re right. What’s the worst that can happen? Nothing. The worst already has.’ He held out his hand. I slipped mine into his and squeezed.
‘Actually, that was my way of asking for my keys,’ he said gruffly. But his eyes twinkled at this early stage of… perhaps a new friendship.
I climbed out the car with renewed energy at the turn of events. Dave and me had just shared our first ever meaningful conversation. And even though I didn’t know Theo well, for some extraordinary reason he was the person I wanted to ring up and tell.
Chapter Six – Jasmine
‘So who’s Theo?’ I said to Mikey, over scrambled eggs, just the way I liked them (milky with a pinch of nutmeg. Blame my fine-dining aunt who was the one stable relative from my childhood). We sat at the breakfast bar. Just before, I’d pulled the blinds, to let sun stream in, lighting up the flat. Friends of mine always said how manly it looked, as if they expected it to be strewn with fluorescent leg warmers and feather boas because I lived with a gay guy.
Mikey blushed. He blushed!
‘Huh?’ he said and rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Well, let’s see…’ I looked at my watch. ‘It’s half-past seven. We’ve both been up one hour and you’ve already mentioned him three times.’ I raised my eyebrows. This secret unrequited crush – could it finally be coming out into the open? Could the object of Mikey’s affection be this Theo, whom I’d never heard him talk of before? Is this man reciprocating my dear flatmate’s feelings at last?
He tutted and pointed to the headline in the paper. ‘Unemployment has risen again.’
‘Mikey!’
He looked up. ‘What?’
‘Theo!’
‘Oh, he’s just a friend of Sanjay’s…we bumped into each other at the gym yesterday.’
‘Was it him you were on the phone to last night for over one hour? What were you talking about? I could have sworn I heard you mention Dave. Were you telling him about the Hollandaise sauce incident? You laughed enough and–’
‘Had a glass to my bedroom wall did you?’
‘No! You left the door open and–’
Mikey knocked back his orange juice. ‘Right, better go. It’s the monthly Butterfields nursing home fifties lunch.’ He kissed me on the forehead. ‘See you tonight, sweetheart, and when you go to Bladen Place market today, could you pick me up a bag of that German apple pie spice? It’s the only place I can buy it and John’s running short.’
Taking the hint not to quiz him further, I stuck out my tongue, but warmth radiated through my veins. How good it was to hear Mikey chat about a potential love interest (I’d decided that’s what this Theo was) because… my eyes pricked… whilst I couldn’t wait for New York, part of me ached at leaving my single flatmate behind. Whereas if he were in a new relationship, it would be less of a wrench to say good bye.
Mikey so deserved to be happy – take this dementia care lunch. He made no profit from it, as he closed the rest of the diner for a couple of hours and the old folk didn’t fill all the seats, but knew how much the residents enjoyed being whisked back in time, to an era they could remember with confidence. I’d assisted him once and helped one elderly lady eat her hotdog. She remembered all the old bands, The Drifters being particular favourites. I smiled. She’d ordered a chocolate milkshake with two straws, because she and her husband could only afford to share one, when courting. Mikey had been brill at explaining away his death, saying he’d be along later and then charmed her into getting up and gently dancing with him.
I drained my teacup and two hours later was quaffing coffee in the office, whilst ploughing through job applications. Some people had no idea. Under “Interests” one woman had put “Gaming until one in the morning.” I wanted interests that shouted “I’m a team player” or “pick me, a well-organised
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