A Mother’s Love

Posted on

CC Image courtesy of dbeck03 on Flickr

I stop dead. ‘He’s not coming. The colleague – the one in the posts…’

My mother looks aghast. ‘Not Tobias?’

I can’t help smiling. One day I’ll accidentally call a colleague by their blog name.

‘No, the other one.’ I say his real name.

‘Aww.’

Fuck.

 

My brother is laying the table. ‘Are you going to eat with us?’

‘Don’t worry,’ I say, ‘I’ll eat later. I’m going to go… spaz out somewhere.’

 

My mother finds me in the sitting room, staring at the floor.

‘Do you want this candle?’ she says.

‘Oh… err it’s a new one. There’s not much point opening a new one for tonight. None of it matters anymore. I don’t mean that. I mean… it’s just – probably not worth it.’

‘OK.’

She’s about to go.

‘This isn’t about Tristan, by the way,’ I say quickly. ‘It wouldn’t matter who it was. It’s about numbers.’

‘I realise that.’

CC Image courtesy of MinniekBunnik on Flickr

Related Posts:

The Best of Times

The Worst of Times

‘Who’s Tristan?’

Reality Check


The Best of Times

Posted on

CC Image courtesy of Ibliskov - Flucтuaт Nεc Mεяgiтuя on FlickrI’d been looking forward to the party. Tristan would be there, and Tobias. We’d demolish the canapé supply and drink too much cheap white wine. Tobias would make a passing remark about clothing, sparking a fit of anxiety from Tristan about his branded jumper, and I’d reassure him it was fine. Twice.

 

We’d cross the road to the neighbouring pub. Tristan would order doubles in place of my usual single. We’d bump into someone I went on a couple of dates with once and Tristan would ask, ‘What’s the deal with that guy?’ Twice.

 

I’d say or do something daft.

‘You’re really great,’ he’d say, laughing and clinking glasses.

 

We’d hug and I’d say:

‘I’ll miss you when you go to New York!’

And he’d tell me to come visit.

 

Out on the pavement, we hug again.

‘I always want people to be more like you,’ I say, ‘cos that makes them a better person.’

‘You’re really great,’ he says again.
CC Image courtesy of eatsmilesleep on Flickr
Later, in the casino, over champagne, we lose money and laugh about it.

 

Later still, in the crowded bar, he kisses me. Light, tender and unexpected.

‘Tristan…?’

I meet his eye. He looks happy and drunk and takes my hand, tight, beneath the table. We rest our heads together.
CC Image courtesy of maxxtraffic on Flickr
Related Posts:

Resolution and Independence

‘Who’s Tristan?’

My Week with Tristan

Things I’ve Said to Tristan


Sister Act

Posted on

CC Image courtesy of Indigo Skies Photography on FlickrI look up to see Tristan approaching.

‘Are you busy?’ he says.

I think of my post-holiday to-do list: twelve tasks and counting.

‘Err why?’

‘Could you witness the signing of a contract – if you’re not too busy?’

I glance in the direction of my boss.

‘Yes,’ I say, ‘that’s fine.’

I start to rise.

‘I’ll come and get you when my sister’s here,’ he says, ‘in about five minutes.’

‘Your sister? OK.’

 

I turn back to my computer screen. He could have asked any number of people: Tobias, Ryan, Harriet who sits opposite him…. I glance again at my boss, before bending to root around in my bag for a tube of lip gloss. Lucky I put on make-up this morning. It wouldn’t do to look sleep-deprived when meeting my future sis– oh for fuck’s sake. Frowning, I focus on the screen.

The minutes slip by.

I’ll say something really daft probably, offend her. ‘Hi!’ and a smile. That’s safe. I can’t say ‘I’ve heard so much about you’, because I haven’t really. I must remember not to say her name.

It’s definitely been more than five minutes.

I mutter words under my breath, looking for the best phrase for an email. This is good. I should be working when she sees me for the first time.

More like ten.

He rounds the corner. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, ‘it’s fine. Harriet witnessed it.’

‘Oh, OK.’

He walks away.

I really need to get over this.

CC Image courtesy of HooverStreetStudios on Flickr

Related Posts:

My Week With Tristan

Joking Aside

Love Letter

Resolution and Independence



Love Letter

Posted on

CC Image courtesy of tanakawho on FlickrThis is a love letter to the men who remind me it’s worth holding out for love. For someone wonderful. For someone who looks at you like you are their world.

Tall, slender Tobias with his stripy socks, throwing around words like ‘Brechtian’ that I’ve stopped pretending to understand. He became a father recently and he will be wonderful at it.

‘You’re the only person I’ve told that story to who got what I meant!’ This is Tristan. When he says things like that I don’t know whether to punch him or throw my arms around him.

Felix is a funny one, literally. When he joined the team I was wary in case I fell for him again, which I did. He makes me smile everyday.

I don’t know how Adrien became my agony aunt, but he did. This is him at his absolute best. He’s beautiful and bright and when I’m having a shit day he puts a bit of rope and a post-it with ‘Bye’ written on it on my desk and then I don’t feel so bad.

This is a love letter to the men I see everyday. Thank God.

CC Image courtesy of CocoMunkii on Flickr

Related Posts:

Heavenly Creatures

Just Sayin’ 

Maybe Baby

Faking It



Heavenly Creatures

Posted on

It’s with mixed feelings that I ride the lift up to the fifth floor. Aside from the odd slip – queuing for returns for a play that I hoped would give me greater insight into Tristan’s medical history, and talking wistfully of him to my long-suffering friend and hostess (‘it’s… it’s like we can read each other’s minds!’) – aside from the odd slip, the past week has been delightfully free of unrequited longing. I even spent an evening in the company of a man who was both nice and – brace yourself – single and who I’d like to see again, though the jury’s out on whether he feels the same way.

Approaching the glass, pass in hand, I feel a little thrill of joy. Up there are two men who make my heart sing – and a job that makes my stomach drop.

The lift doors open onto the fifth floor. I put my pass to the scanner. The thrill has faded into nothingness. I keep my gaze dead ahead.

‘Anna!’

I look round and there he is, making the silly gesturing movements I have come to love so much.

‘How was your holiday?’

‘Good,’ I say, grinning.

‘Oh of course, you went to Edinburgh.’

Yes. Where he’s just been himself. Has he really only just remembered this fact?

‘What did you see?’ he says.

‘Some of the things you did, probably.’

‘Did you manage to see–?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was it–?’

‘Overrated.’ We laugh. ‘I still don’t know which show you’re talking about!’

‘Overrated could apply to lots of the things I saw.’ He frowns. ‘I had quite a lean Fringe.’

‘Yeah I know what you mean. I only saw one thing which I thought–.’

Tobias appears round the corner. ‘Welcome back! Did you go to Vienna?’

‘No, Edinburgh.’

Right now I feel like I’ve gone to heaven.

CC Image courtesy of Indrik myneur on Flickr

Related Posts:

Lifted

Resolution and Independence

Read My Mind