Lesson 12 Raincheck

‘Promise me you won’t judge. I didn’t have time to tidy up this morning… and I really wasn’t expecting we’d end up here tonight,’ he said.

‘Really? You didn’t plan this little detour?’ I smiled at him. I trusted him – felt safe. Who wouldn’t feel safe with a ruggedly handsome fireman?

‘Once you see the state of my bedroom, you’ll know I wasn’t expecting visitors,’ Joel said, as he punched a code into the front door.

‘Who said anything about your bedroom?’ I shot back. He turned to look at me, his face just a few shades lighter than the fire truck he’d been in earlier. There was no pulling back from the hole he had dug. He opened the door and stood aside, allowing me to enter first.

The apartment was modern, almost clinical. Far from being untidy, it was like something out of a design magazine.

‘Oh, so, so messy,’ I said. ‘I’d hate to think what you say about my place if this is your idea of untidy.’

‘I guess it’s all relative,’ he smiled, offering me a seat on the breakfast bar.

The kitchen was pristine. Not a single dirty dish, used cup. Not a stray crumb to be seen. Joel had seemed so laid back on the three dates we’d had. His dating profile had declared him as such. This apartment however, told a whole different story.

‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘What’s on offer?’

Joel opened the fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of Chablis and showed it to me for my approval. He grabbed two glasses -directed me to the living room. Not that it appeared to experience much ‘living in’. The furniture felt as if it had just been dropped in for a photo shoot. A strategically placed Eames chair by the window. A deep crimson red leather lounge, long enough to accommodate his six foot frame.

‘Have you been here long?’ I asked.

‘Three years,’ Joel said, as he poured the crisp white and handed it to me.

‘Really?’

Something about the sterile environment began to jangle my nerves a little. Joel handed me my drink and I took a large gulp. Then another. Joel was meant to be easy, relaxed. That was who I was looking for. Stop it, I told myself. Get a grip. A tidy house is not a disorder.

I put my glass back on the table. Next thing I knew Joel had pounced on my dripping glass, sweeping it away with one hand and pushing a coaster across the table with the other. The speed of the movement made me jump. He set my drink down on the coaster and leapt up to grab a cloth from the kitchen. He had the drips on the table wiped away before I could take in what was happening. I looked around the room. Remotes lined up in order of size, magazines squared away, the window blinds at the exact same height.

As he busied himself putting a plate of cheese and artisan crackers together in the kitchen, I sent a quick text to my friend,– anytime things were not quite going as well as hoped for on a date, there was a bail out plan in place. Lisa would call me back with an emergency at home. Not at all subtle, but face-saving hopefully.

Joel’s home triggered memories of Danny – controlling, emotionally blackmailing Danny, who robbed me of four years of my life before I could break free. In fact, I only had to text ‘Danny’ to my friend and the call came immediately.

‘Sorry,’ I said to Joel, as he set the plate down on the coffee table. ‘I need to take this. It’s my father’s carer.’