Читать книгу The Cows - Dawn O’Porter - Страница 22

‘Hello, yeah I’ve been waiting for my pizza for over an hour … Yes, it’s Stacey … What? I spoke to you myself? … Oh, forget it, I’ll call Domino’s.’

She hangs up.

‘That is so rubbish,’ Cam says to Mark, who is also very hungry but not the type to get annoyed. ‘It’s going to take ages to get here now.’

She storms over to the kitchen and aggressively opens and slams shut all of the cupboards and the fridge. They are all empty.

‘Babe, you get so hangry,’ says Mark, infuriating Cam a little with his youthful slang.

‘I’ve been craving pizza all day,’ she says, huffing.

‘Well then, let’s go out and get some?’ Mark suggests, flippantly.

‘What, and bring it back here?’

‘No, let’s go eat somewhere. It’s Saturday night. Date Night!’

Cam goes a little cold. Let’s go eat somewhere? As in, they sit opposite each other? In a restaurant? With clothes on? Making conversation? Is that possible?

Before Cam has the chance to question it, Mark is standing by the door, ready to leave. ‘Come on then, I’m starving,’ he says.

She picks up her keys, slips into some flip flops and follows him out. This is actually happening.

As Mark reads the menu, Cam stares at him. It’s been a few months since they met in the line at Whole Foods, they’ve had sex in every position imaginable, but she has no idea if he even has a middle name. Sitting opposite him now, she can’t think of a single thing to say.

‘I’m going for the meat feast, I don’t even know why I bother to read the menu. What about you?’ Mark asks, putting the menu down and nodding at a waiter.

‘Me? What about me?’ Cam asks, worried he’s asking her to express some feelings.

‘Er, what pizza you going for?’

‘Oh, a Hawaiian, always.’

‘Nah, can’t do fruit on pizza,’ Mark says.

‘Oh right,’ replies Cam, making a face that she thinks shows she is enjoying getting to know the small details of who he is, despite finding this terribly awkward.

It’s not that she doesn’t like Mark, or doesn’t like spending time with him. But she’s actively avoided traditional dating for most of her adult life; it isn’t what she’s good at. She’d rarely choose to sit opposite someone she didn’t know really well for an entire meal. A drink, probably. A coffee, fine. But a meal? A proper date? She’s not good at this. She’s good at being at home, in her pants, making general conversation between sex sessions. In that environment she has props, distractions from intense emotional interaction. But now here she is, sitting opposite her fuck buddy of a few months, realising for the first time that the age gap is actually a thing. She feels conspicuous. Like an older man with a young hot blonde. Out of bed, this feels a bit silly.

They order.

‘So what did you do today?’ he asks, as they wait.

‘Oh, um, I went to the park with my sister and niece and two nephews. We swam in the pond, it was nice,’ Cam says, shoving two olives into her mouth.

‘Ah, nice. I’ve got two nephews. Jacob and Jonah. Both want to be called JJ, so I just call them JJJJ, like Ja-Juh, Ja-Juh, and they find that really funny.’

‘That’s hilarious,’ says Cam, hiding her feelings by spitting olive pips into her hand.

‘They love me. I can pick them both up at once. They call me Uncle Hulk,’ Mark says, holding his arm up, bending his elbow, and flexing his biceps.

Cam smiles. He’s so nice, she doesn’t want to be rude, or mean, but …

‘So how old are yours?’ he asks, being completely acceptable and acting as any normal human being would in this situation. But it’s too much for Cam. She’s not sure why she’s finding this so excruciating, but she is. She can’t do it. She just can’t.

‘Mark, I’m sorry. I’m not feeling great, maybe sunstroke or something. Can we get the pizza boxed up and take it home?’

Mark doesn’t seem bothered. He still gets pizza, he still gets Cam – as far as he’s concerned, it’s all good.

‘Sure,’ he says, calling over a waiter to ask for the pizza to go. Cam instantly relaxes, and fills the time by getting her wallet out of her bag and counting out some money. ‘I’ll get this,’ she says. Mark happily accepts.

As they leave, Cam thinks again.

‘You know, maybe I’ll just go home alone. I’m sorry, I think the heat really got to me today. Then not eating, and chasing kids around all afternoon. Is that OK?’

‘Of course, babe,’ Mark says, understandingly. He opens a pizza box to make sure she takes the right one. ‘Want me to walk you home?’

‘No, I’ll be OK. Thanks though,’ she says, appreciating how nice and easy he is, and wondering why she can’t bring herself to sit through a meal with him.

‘Will you go out tonight?’ she asks.

‘Probably, I fancy a dance,’ he says, further clarifying the vast contrast in their lifestyles. Cam wonders if he’ll pull later. Someone closer to his age, who also works in a gym, who is happy to chat about stuff. She knows she isn’t allowed to care.

‘Have fun,’ she says as he walks away.

‘Thanks babe,’ he calls back. She walks home, slowly.

Back at her kitchen table, laptop in front of her, half a pizza to her right, and a cup of tea to her left, she thinks about what to write about. She knows her relationship with the world through the Internet is better than it is with it in person, but does that matter? Why should she have to be great offline, when she can be everything she wants to be online? It’s not like she has no contact with other humans at all; there is her family, Mark, and of course she has friends. Sure, she conducts most of her relationships on email, but it’s not like she’s literally alone, like an old person in a home that no one comes to visit. She could go out if she wanted to, she just doesn’t want to.

She sits for a minute, and thinks about that.

Does she want to? Or has she become so consumed with her online profile that she’s forgotten how to communicate face to face? She shakes her head. No … no, that isn’t how it is. The Internet allowed her to be everything she wanted to be. She’s happy living through her fingertips. In her virtual world she is bold, brave and powerful. In the real world, she kind of sucks. Her relationship with the Internet is nothing to be ashamed of.

There, she has something to blog about. Cam gets to work.

Being alone doesn’t mean I am lonely.

I don’t remember the last time I felt lonely, but I am alone all the time. I think it stems from being brought up in a busy household, and living most of my life in my head. The truth is, I probably have the same fear of being surrounded that most people have of loneliness. Being alone doesn’t scare me. In fact, it makes me really happy.

Being lonely is actually quite hard, if you fill your life with things you love. For me, the things I love don’t take me far from my front door. I enjoy walking, and watching movies, and seeing family and those kinds of things. But the rest of the time, when I am alone in my home, my thoughts and work occupy me plenty.

When I am alone, I just get on with things. I do all sorts, ranging from acts of vanity to writing words. As I sit here in my kitchen on a Saturday night doing the latter of those activities, I thought I might share some of the other things I do when there is no one else around.

Sometimes, I might sit at the kitchen table and pluck my bikini line with tweezers. Or I put a little vanity mirror on a table by the window, and use the brightness of the daylight to inspect my pores. I squeeze little blackheads and pluck out dark hairs from places on my face that they shouldn’t be. This leaves me looking all blotchy and unsightly, so I probably wouldn’t do it if there was someone else around. I’ll finish that process with a facemask, that I leave on for ten minutes while I email friends.

I’m brilliant at emailing people. I’d write letters if actual handwriting didn’t give me wrist cramps, because I love the idea of old-school pen pals. I write school friends huge catch up emails, and I send them all the time. And they write back with just a few sentences, and I always feel really proud of myself for being so good at staying in touch, even though I would never make the effort to actually see them face to face. I also spend ages reading all of the emails I get from you guys, and a good portion of my time replying.

I cook myself meals, and sometimes really go to town on what they might be. A few nights ago I made myself a chicken Thai green curry from scratch, including the paste. Then I sat in my window seat and I ate it while looking out over London and listening to Tapestry by Carole King. I followed that by reading almost half of a novel about a North Korean refugee, before going to bed and writing a blog with a cup of peppermint tea. In the morning, I woke up at ten a.m. and finished the curry. Cold. There was no one there to judge me, so I just did it, and it was perfect. I spent the rest of the day doing DIY with my dad.

This is my life now, and how it has been for a really long time. I am alone, but never lonely. I don’t know if I could ever be lonely, because I love being alone. I think when you’ve truly mastered the skill of enjoying your own company, happiness just comes.

Cam x

She uploads the piece and tears off a huge piece of pizza. Usually she feels a sense of calmness when she’s written a good article, but Cam can’t quite shake the jitters she’s feeling from earlier. The weakness she feels when she’s in the wider world. How can the virtual her and the real life her be so different? Taking the pizza with her into her bedroom, she slips between the sheets and eats it. Looking around her room, she thinks how nice it would be to have a small armchair in the corner, one with a fun print on it, just for show. Maybe she’ll go looking for one tomorrow, that would be the perfect way to spend a Sunday. Still chewing, she lets out a massive pizza-perfumed fart, turns off the light, and falls fast asleep.