Page 37 of The Late Bloomer’s Playlist

The Crystals

THEN HE KISSED ME

I’d had The Crystals on repeat for so long that David resorted to covering his ears. He’d been sitting on my bed – feet up despite wearing shoes, the brute – with his eyes closed for twenty minutes while I was trying to decide what to wear. Though my decision-making wasn’t sped up any by the fact that I was part-dancing, part-singing my way around the room whenever I moved to ferret out a different item of clothing. I’d changed the pronoun for my version of the song, and there was a warm and happy smile that took over my face on every cycle of the track. It had been four days since the dance evening – since the kiss, was what I really meant – and though Sheila and I hadn’t seen each other again in that time, I found the memory of it alone was enough to cause a date-night buzz of excitement through me. It had been the best kiss I’d had in years, and though I realised that mightn’t seem like a high compliment – owing to there being slim competition – it was something that I’d told David at least three times.

‘Imagine what you’ll be like when you’ve slept together,’ he shouted over the music.

‘David, don’t be crass,’ I answered, tugging one last outfit option from my wardrobe. There was a pair of jeans that I hadn’t worn in at least ten years, and it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that they might not even fit anymore. Still, there was a new and sparkly energy that encouraged me to try them on all the same.

‘Patti–’

‘Don’t open your eyes!’

‘We’ve been married for five years,’ he answered, but he still put his hands in place to form a makeshift blindfold. It had always been a line in our boundaries: David wasn’t ever to see my unmentionables. No man ever had, and that wasn’t about to change. ‘You do realise that we need to be at Joe and Anita’s before they arrive, don’t you?’

Joe and Anita were one of our old married couple friends, and they were about to celebrate fifteen years of wedded bliss. As far as they were concerned, it was a friendly dinner party hosted by their two doting daughters. The two daughters, however, had decided that a surprise party featuring all of their friends was a better option.

‘Of course, how else do you make fifteen years of marriage worthwhile unless there’s a massive party at the end of it?’ David had said when our invitation arrived two months ago. I’d decided not to take the comment personally.

‘Okay,’ I announced, still standing in front of my mirror; still unsure about the outfit. The old jeans definitely fit me, hugging my shape in a way that nothing had in a long time. But for the last four days I’d been painfully aware, somehow, of the rise and fall of each curve, and it was nice to see them held by the tight fabric. I’d paired them with a light blue linen shirt that was part tucked into my waistband, and layered gold necklaces that David had bought me last Christmas. ‘I think this is the one.’

David moved his hands away and his eyes widened. ‘Bloody Nora.’

‘In a good way?’ I asked, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the outline of my thighs.

‘Bloody Nora.’ He struggled free of my bed. ‘I can’t believe you’re my wife.’

I laughed. ‘I’m a proper wife for tonight, too!’ Joe and Anita knew that David and I had a platonic marriage, but there were going to be couples there who we’d never known well enough to bother explaining ourselves to. For tonight, David and I would laugh and talk and dance like we were a real-life husband and wife – not that I imagined it would change our behaviour much either way, but still. ‘Will I do, then?’

‘Honestly, Patti, if this is you on romance…’

‘What’s the end of that sentence?’

‘Let’s just say.’ He offered his arm for me to take. ‘Romance really suits you.’

* * *

I was three drinks in and listening to an inane story about a stranger’s child and how well they were doing in life, when David finally reappeared. He’d volunteered to get us both another couple of drinks, which I knew from the off was a ploy to buy himself a break from– I want to say Margaret? The woman who had started talking to us both approximately three years ago; though a sly glance at my watch revealed that it had only been thirty-something minutes since the woman had cornered us both. Seventeen minutes since David had disappeared to source more gin, I thought as I span around to face him and snatched a glass.

‘Have you been brewing it?’ I said, my eyes wide and my voice stern.

‘I was just telling Patti about–’

‘Patti, I’ve just met the most extraordinary woman,’ David announced as though Margaret hadn’t spoken at all. I felt my eyes roll back so severely that I’m surprised I didn’t catch a glimpse of my own brain. Not only was he being rude, but he’d also clearly forgotten that for a single night he needed to be married! ‘She was at the bar, and do you know something, she wasn’t my type, at all, but there was no one else around to kill a bout of time with, so I thought I’d straighten up and talk to her and–’

‘Sorry, Margaret.’ I took my turn to cause an interruption. ‘Apparently my husband has forgotten his manners.’

The woman giggled. ‘That’s quite all right. It’s about time I went and found my own, I should think.’ She reached forward and squeezed my hand. ‘Lovely meeting you both, it really was. I’ll see you on the dance floor.’ She was mock dancing already as she walked away.

‘I thought we were husband and wife?’

David looked flummoxed. ‘We are?’

‘So this interesting woman?’

‘Oh, right, well,’ he said before launching into the rest of his story, not catching my meaning at all. My bloody idiot, I thought warmly as he rambled. ‘…no sooner had I pulled up a pew alongside her and she simply said, “No.” Can you believe that?’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘Are you enamoured with this woman because she turned you down?’ David’s posture straightened as though cold water had dripped down his back and I burped out a three-gin laugh. ‘You are, aren’t you? She said no and suddenly she’s the… What was it, most extraordinary woman?’ I said, my tone playful, and I tickled at the spot beneath his right ear as I spoke – like I might do for Fred when we were curled up on the armchair together.