‘Thanks, but you can’t find something you’re not actively looking for. It’s the “not actively looking for” part that seems to confuse everyone around me. But I’m really just trying to focus on my career now.’
‘Me too. I have so many career goals, a relationship would be terribly distracting.’
We both sat in silence, him sipping his coffee and me wiping the condensation off my glass of water, which had finally arrived. My attention was diverted by a woman sitting down at the table next to us. She’d overpacked her handbag and, as she sat, a book tumbled to the floor. I cast my eyes at it. The cover featured a shirtless man, his fingers looped through his jeans. He was pulling them down just enough for you to see what that ‘V’ would inevitably connect with. A hand with long red fingernails dug into his hard sixpack stomach and lust oozed from his eyes. The title caught my attention now.The Dating Arrangement. She picked it up quickly and the book disappeared into her bag once more, but as she did . . .
Part of a thought came to me.
It was hazy at first. Enveloped in misty brain fog. But as the mist started to dissipate the thought began to materialize and, when it did, I sat up straight in my seat.
‘What?’ Flightbird asked, clearly surprised by my dramatic move.
‘Nothing.’ I shook my head, trying to remove the thought from it. But it lingered.
The thought was logical. A plausible solution to our mutual problem, but would it work?
‘No, seriously, what? You look like you’ve just solved an ancient mystery.’
‘What if . . .’ I started, but stopped. ‘It might work, but . . . I don’t know.’
‘What?’ he pressed.
‘I’ll be your fake girlfriend if you be my fake boyfriend.’ I blurted it out.
‘What?’ Flightbird almost choked on his coffee. He put it down on the table so hard that some of it sploshed out. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘Fake girlfriend and boyfriend.’
‘You’re not being serious, are you?’
I nodded my head solemnly, trying to convey the seriousness of my suggestion.
Flightbird wiped up the spilt coffee slowly. He looked like he was searching his brain for the right words to say back to me. ‘So, how would that work, hypothetically, of course? Your suggestion?’
‘Well, you would come with me to my reunion tonight – you’ll be in Cape Town anyway, and you’ll come with me to my cousin’s wedding as well. I’ll go with you to your mother’s sixtieth and whatever other occasion you need me at. That way, we’ll both be saved from the incessant relationship questions.’
‘Huh. Interesting,’ he mused.
‘I have to warn you though, I’m not particularly good in social situations. I can’t do small talk and sometimes I’m too blunt – some people say, anyway – but I’m sure I would make a fairly adequate fake girlfriend. At least you would have a girlfriend. That’s better than not having one, isn’t it?’
‘It would certainly solve our respective problems for a while.’
‘Exactly. And because it will be completely fake, there’ll be no need for kissing. Not to mention all that phoning and messaging that takes up way too much time. And no sex.’
Flightbird choked on his coffee again and this time was forced to smack his chest. ‘God, youareblunt.’
‘I can try and tone it down if you want?’ I offered.
‘No. I like it. It’s just . . .’ He paused. ‘Unexpected.’
I tapped my fingers on the table as another thought materialized. ‘No. On second thoughts, it won’t work.’
‘Why not?’ he asked.
‘Well, because you are you,’ I pointed at him, ‘and I am me.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You arenotthe kind of man I would date. And vice versa, I’m sure.’
