‘Oh! Speaking of which, we’ve already done all the invites now so yours should be coming soon. I’ve given you a plus one, but don’t feel forced to bring anyone if you know … if you don’t want to.’
‘And be harassed by all the aunties and uncles on the day about why I’m single? Absolutely not, Mum; I don’t need all that stress. Thank you, I’ll work on bringing a date.’
Mum took another sip of her drink, thankfully in better spirits. ‘If you need help with finding someone, I was speaking with your second cousin Mabel the other day and she was telling me about this guy at her accounting firm who—’
‘Mum, please, it’s fine. I can find my own date,’ I said, exasperated.
‘No, but he’s a really attractive man, Cassie!’ she persisted, now becoming more animated. ‘His name is Carl and he’s from one of those islands – Martinique, I think? He makes six figures and—’
I held up my hand to cut her off, trying to hold back a laugh. If only she knew what I’d been getting up to of late. ‘Honestly, Mum? It’s fine. I’ll find someone to bring along, don’t worry.’
Damnit. My first thought was to possibly consider taking Theo along to the wedding with me as my plus one, but I absolutely could not allow that to happen, given his profession. I could potentially have him lie by omission, but what if there was a slim chance that someone recognised him from somewhere? That wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, frankly. I didn’t want to be the only one at the wedding without a plusone, so I had some strategising to do. Thankfully, the wedding was in three months so I at least had a little time.
After our catch-up, I walked my mum to the station and stood with her as she waited for her train.
‘At some point, Cassandra, you have to learn how to drive so you can take me to and from work, you know. I’m an old woman; I shouldn’t be taking public transport like this from Croydon and back every day.’
I rolled my eyes and grinned at the guilt-tripping of it all. First I was a marriage counsellor, then a conflict resolution officer. Now a chauffeur. How many things must I be expected to do at once? I replied, ‘First of all, you have a fully grown son who is self-employed who has a car and is flexible with his hours, have you asked him? Secondly, you’re only fifty-six AND you do Pilates twice a week. You’re fitter than me. Third of all, maybe you and Femi could move further into London so you wouldn’t have to travel as far? You know you guys can afford to at this point.’
Mum tutted as she shifted from foot to foot. ‘I’m too old to be moving, my dear. Also, I don’t think I’ll get my money’s worth if we move further in. Let us stay where we are.’
‘Great,’ was the only reply I could muster at that point. Parents. God love ’em.
I got home to find Toby scratching at his post and meowing loudly at me, no doubt furious that I’d come home late and missed his allocated dinner slot.
‘I’m sorry, baby! Mummy had to go and see Grandma for a bit.’ I cooed at him as I cleaned out the old food from his bowl and replaced it with his favourite chicken and salmon gravy packet. I cleaned out his litter tray, took out the bins and put on a load of washing before sticking some leftovers in the microwave. I stood by the counter scrolling aimlessly through Instagram as I waited for my food to warm up. As I scrolledthrough my notifications, I saw a flurry of engagement directed towards my page, which all seemed to be coming from the same account:
*TheoCam_1996 is now following you*
*TheoCam_1996 liked your photo*
*TheoCam_1996 liked your photo*
*TheoCam_1996 liked your reel*
*TheoCam_1996 liked your photo*
*TheoCam_1996 liked your story*
*TheoCam_1996 commented: You are so incredibly beautiful, wow.*
*TheoCam_1996 commented: This is such a beautiful shot of the lake; you have an eye for photography!*
*TheoCam_1996 commented: There she is.*
*TheoCam_1996 liked your photo*
With my curiosity piqued, I clicked onto the person’s profile and scrolled through the first two photos. When I realised who it was, I did a double take. Surely it wasn’t?
It was Theo. But this username had ‘1996’ after the name. But Theo wasn’t twenty-eight years old. He was thirty-four years old. Maybe it was an error? I ignored the ping of the microwave as I sat on my sofa, digesting the fact that Theo had just followed me on Instagram.
I scrolled through his photos, a mixture of fear, disbelief, bashfulness and curiosity all fighting for dominance inside my brain at the same time. It was Theo all right, but a more relaxed, candid version of him; photos of him outwith friends, his paintings (he painted too, as well as drew, it seemed), him on holiday, and the odd portrait or two of him. I scrolled through his entire profile, taking in every photo, every moment. Images of him in Saint Lucia with his grandmother, images of him as a child in a pair of funky overalls … images that provided a raw, unfiltered side to him, without all the performance or pretence. Also, only 642 followers. A low-key babe. We loved to see it.
I followed his profile back, giddy about his comments and engagement on my photos. But also, what did this now mean? Did he typically follow his clients on Instagram? Curious, I skimmed through his ‘follow’ list. To my surprise, it was mostly other guys and branded accounts. The few women he did follow didn’t exactly scream ‘clientele’ to me. Then again, at first glance, would anyone assume I was the kind of person who sought the services of a sex worker? Probably not, to be fair. Did this mean that he was beginning to like me? There was far too much to think about right now, alongside his username, which was still a niggle in the back of my head. Why would he use 1996? Unless it was a typo? But hedidlook a lot younger than he said he was. I decided that I would ask him about that when I saw him on Friday. In the meantime, I decided to send him a message on Instagram. At this point, the less time spent on theOuiMeetapp, hopefully the less I’d need to spend in order to communicate with him.
After ‘liking’ a few of his photos, I opened up the direct message window and wrote,
Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in. I hope you know that as this is a public platform, I’m not required to pay for this additional form of communication. Is following your clients part of your service or did our kiss leave more of an impression than I thought?
