And that’s how on the Friday of the following week I ended up going out for dinner with Alexandra. It hadn’t been so bad phoning her to arrange it. She’d actually been in when I called and there were no awkward moments, no heated exchange of views or accusations of betrayal. It was just : “Yes, I want to got out with you.” “A meal? That sounds lovely.” “Friday night’s O.K.” “Outside Eason’s at seven thirty.” “Great talking to you again.” “And the same to you. Goodbye.” and the phone was hung up.
So once again I found myself standing in O’Connell St. on a Friday night, waiting for Alexandra to show up. Wondering if she’d even show. But I needn’t have worried. She was even on time. Just as the clock chimed the half hour she came around the corner from Abbey St.
She was wearing a blue silk blouse and a long black skirt. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail. And she’d a bag over her left shoulder and a jacket folded across her arm. As she came up to me and smiled I had to resist an impulse to put my arms around her and hug her. She looked so beautiful that I very nearly couldn’t make myself stop.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” I replied.
We looked at each other for a few seconds.
“Emm,” I smiled to break the tension. “I thought we might go for a meal.”
“That sounds nice,” she smiled back. “How about a Chinese.”
“That’s just what I was going to suggest,” I said. “I thought maybe the Ming Court, down the bottom of Dame St..”
“I’ve never been there,” she replied. “Is it good.”
“It’s brilliant,” I assured her. “I’ve been there several times and it has always been good.”
We started to walk and I felt like putting my arm around her or holding her hand. The desire to touch her just kept building. I knew that I’d have to give into it sooner or later, so I decided to get it over with.
She was going straight down O’Connell St. to cross at O’Connell bridge. So I put my hand to her shoulder and half turned to go up Abbey St. “Let’s go up this way,” I tried to ignore the feeling of her silk blouse against her skin. “and we can turn up Liffey St. and cross at the Halfpenny bridge.”
“O.K.” she turned to follow my lead and I had to make a conscious effort of will to take my hand from her shoulder.
We walked for a while in silence. The I asked, “So did you have a good week in work?”
“Oh, don’t talk about it, Kevin,” she rolled her eyes upwards. “My boss was in a fowl mood. Not just today, but the whole blasted week. Nothing I did was good enough for him ! He’s such a bastard.”
“Yeh,” I laughed. “But did he sign your pay cheque.”
She snorted, “That’s the only dam reason I’m going in on Monday, I tell you.”
“So what was he bugged about?” I asked.
“Oh, there’s this big property deal he’s involved with that looks as if it’s going down the drain and he’s going to lose an absolute fortune if it does.” She smiled, “Serve him right if he does, the greedy little sod.”
“A ha !,” I exclaimed. “So you really love your boss, then.”
She smiled up at me. “He’s not too bad. As long as you can keep out of his way until five O’clock.”
“Well as long as you enjoy your work so much,” I smiled and looked away.
“Speaking of work,” she looked up at me. “How’s the writing coming along.”
“Oh it’s great,” I replied. “I’ve got over thirty thousand words written.”
“Really,” she nodded. “And how many chapters is that.”
“Well,” I explained. “There are nineteen chapters in the novel. And I’ve finished four of them. In fact I’m just about to finish chapter seventeen.”
“Thirty thousand words in four chapters,” she shook her head. “That’s a lot.” She looked up at me again, “And if there’s nineteen chapters in the whole novel that’s …”
“Oh no,” I interrupted. “It doesn’t work like that. The biggest chapter has only six and a half thousand words in it. Most of it is in unfinished chapters.”
“Unfinished chapters,” she smiled. “Like the unfinished symphony?”
“Well,” I smiled back. “I intend to live long enough to finish them. And quite a few more novels as well !”
She thought for a moment, “So if you’re just about to finish chapter seventeen, how come you only have four complete?”
“That’s because I don’t write sequentially,” I saw a question forming on her face and tried to explain. “What I mean is that I write it scene by scene, but all the scenes don’t match up while I’m writing.”
She smiled broadly, “Do they match up when you’ve finished?”
“Well,” I smiled back. “That’s where the art comes into it.” I found my hand was in her’s and couldn’t think how it got there. “As I was going to explain,” I continued. “What happens is that I get … I don’t know, like a vision in my head of say two characters walking along the road, hand in hand talking to each other. And then from that I realise that later that same day, say when they’re making love to each other, one of them remembers something that the other said when they where walking along hand in hand and I skip to that part of the story and write that conversation.”
“Is there lots of love making in this novel,” she asked.
“Oh, a little,” I replied. “Like every chapter.”
“Is this the novel you said you where putting me in?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I smiled. ” I make you out to be this mean, viscous little bitch.”
“Only a little bitch?” she smiled back.
“Well actually,” I conceded. “Quite a bitch.”
“I want to be the super bitch of all time,” she said.
“But then nobody will know that it is you in my novel,” I replied.
She looked up at me, “Oh don’t worry, Kevin. Lots of people think I’m a bitch.”
“Yeh,” I agreed smiling. “But I didn’t use your real name.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Because you’d sue my balls off,” I replied.
“No I wouldn’t,” she said. “I want to be famous.” She looked up at me. “That is,” she added. “If it turns out to be a best seller.”
“Oh don’t worry about that,” I assured her. “I have every intention that it will.” I smiled, “I mean why else would I put in all those sex scenes.”
“And am I any good at it?” she smiled up at me.
“You blow his fucking mind, Alexandra !” I looked deep into her eyes.
She smiled back. Then her face became mischievous and she squeezed my hand, “Yeh, but do I blow anything else?”
I laughed and squeezed back, accepting her challenge. “Eventually, maybe you do, Alexandra !” I replied. “I haven’t written that part yet.”
We’d arrived at the restaurant. I opened the door for her. As she walked by she looked at me out of the corner of her and said, “Maybe you’ll get some inspiration tonight !”
I laughed as I followed her inside.
A waiter sprang on us immeasurable, “Table for two, Sir?”
“Err, yes,” I replied.
As we followed him to the back of the restaurant Alexandra looked over her shoulder and winked at me.
I stepped close to her, putting my hand on her shoulder and asked, “What was that for?”
“You just sounded so masterful, Kevin,” she smiled back.
“Yeh,” I replied drily. “That’s me all over.”
We sat down and took the menus from the waiter. As I scanned the starters I realised I was starving. We didn’t say much until the waiter returned and took our orders.
As we waited for our food we chatted about this and that, while munching our way through a plate full of prawn crackers. Mostly we talked about films we’d both seen, or gave graphic descriptions about how good the films that the other had miss . We seemed to have liked all the same films, but for completely different reasons.
Then the soup arrived and my conversation dwindled as I began to eat. Even though most of my attention was on my food I could still feel Alexandra’s presence across the table as if a great heat was radiating form her. I was beginning to consciously feel attracted to her again. I kept looking up at her, just in time to see her glance away from me.
As soon as we’d knocked back the soup we started in on a conversation about food. About how the food here was good. About other good restraints we’d been to. And restraints to avoid. Then we realised that we’d never had a meal out together before and the conversation dried up.
Then the main course arrived and our lack of conversation was covered. The food was so delicious that it we were nearly finished the meal before we got down to the nitty gritty conversation.
“So Alexandra, what do you want from me?” I scooped up some noodles and sucked them into my mouth.
“I’m sorry?” Alexandra tilted her head in question.
I chewed quickly and swallowed. “After this long break in our relationship, what do you expect to get from talking to me now?”
She thought for a moment, then asked, “What did you hope to get from chasing after me when we broke up?”
I toyed with the idea of telling her that is was me who broke up with her, but it would only have started an argument. Then decided to be truthful, “Forgiveness.”
“What?” she didn’t know if she was supposed to smile or not. “Is that a joke?” she decided to smile.
“No,” I took a deep breath. “I felt guilty about the way I thought I’d used you. And I didn’t trust my own feelings enough to believe that I’d made the right decision in breaking up with you.” I shrugged, “And I still loved you.”
This time she did smile, “Which one was it?”
I smiled back, “All of them.” I waved my hand beside my head, “All mixed up inside, with a whole load of other things. All sloshing into each other.”
She ate a mouthful of her dinner and I ate some of mine.
When she’d finished chewing she asked, “Why guilty?”
I swallowed. “Because I thought I’d used you and I didn’t think the fact that you’d used me balanced it out,” I pinched another scoop full of noodles in my chopsticks. “Then I decided that you’d used me more than I’d used you and I wanted revenge,” I ate the noodles.
She sat back and watched me chew.
“Do you still want to marry me?” she asked softly and looked away.