Max
“Hey there!” Roger’s ears picked up at Mia’s call from the front door and he shot off down the hall to find her. The dog was totally besotted. It might have been something to do with the copious amounts of bacon she fed him under the table when she thought I wasn’t watching, but at the moment Mia was his favourite human. I had even heard the beast give a low growl when Mia cuddled into me on the sofa, the furry, possessive maniac.
“Oh hey there, baby boy,” I heard Mia say in that ridiculous voice she reserved for my dog. You didn’t speak to Alsatians as if they were precious fluffy little fur babies. Rodger was forty kilos of killing machine, not a Maltese terrier. “How’s my gorgeous puppy. Yes, yes you’re a good boy. Yes you are.”
“Thanks and I know,” I told her as I watched her being licked and nuzzled on the floor of the corridor by a frantic Rodger. He’d only seen her yesterday for fuck’s sake. Where was his self-respect? And why was I letting a dog get in the way of my woman. If she should be nuzzling anyone it was me, dammit.
Mia rolled her eyes as she straightened from the ground.
“You don’t need any positive reinforcement,” she told me, leaning down to pick up two huge shopping bags packed to the brim with stuff. She hauled them up with difficult but only got a couple of steps before I whisked them out of her hands and put them back on the floor. I then stepped into her personal space, slipped her arms around her waist and kissed her, light and sweet on the lips. When I pulled back I saw she was wearing that dazed expression again. It was the way she looked at me whenever I gave her some unexpected affection, or when I listened to her opinions and ideas, or when I asked her what she wanted to do, what she wanted to eat. It was full of wonder – like I was a rare discovery that she never believed could exist before.
Of course I liked that she looked at me that way. It made me feel fantastic – like a God among men. But then I would remember why she didn’t know that normal affection for your significant other wasn’t something to be dazzled by, that simple kindness and caring wasn’t the seventh wonder of the world. When I thought about that my blood would start to boil again and I’d have to squash it down or I’d be too angry to speak.
I frowned down at the bags with Mia still in my arms.
“How did you haul all that from shops?”
“Oh, I got the bus.’
“The bus … but there isn’t a bus stop anywhere near here. You must – ”
“It’s only a ten minute walk, Max.”
“Try twenty minutes and you’re carrying half a tonne of stuff. Why didn’t you call me?”
Mia had been more confident about being out in public over the last month. More nights out to the Pig and Whistle, more lunches with Yaz and Verity. But strangely, as her watchfulness diminished, mine seemed to be ramping up.
She rolled her eyes and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “I didn’t want to put you out. Anyway, I’m here now; so let me get set up. I want everything to be sorted by the time your parents get here.”
I frowned down at her. “All this is for my parents? I told you we’d get a takeaway. They don’t expect me to cook.”
She shrugged and looked away. “I know but I’m happy to and … well, it might help me make a good impression.” A flicker of worry flitted through her expression and her body tightened with anxiety. I sighed and rubbed her back.
“You don’t have anything to worry about, love,” I told her, wishing I could absorb all her pent up insecurities and stress. She was getting there, she was slowly coming out of herself but there was still a long way to go. “My folks will love you.”
I was regretting letting Mam and my stepdad pop down now. From the worry lines on Mia’s forehead I could see that what I viewed as an innocuous visit she saw as some kind of test.
“Yaz, Teddy and Heath will be here too.”
I had hoped that reminder would reassure her, but she was still going into herself – her features tightening with stress. The last thing I wanted was for her to cook. Not that her cooking wasn’t the dog’s bollocks, because it was. She’d cooked for us loads now, and although the food was incredible (lamb for me and Teddy last week, fried halloumi steaks when Yaz came over a few days ago), I still couldn’t enjoy it.
Mia was a nervous cook. Too nervous.
She measured ingredients as if her life depended on the exact quantities and bit her lip the whole time until it was nearly bleeding by the end. By the time she served up she was too stressed to eat any herself – picking at her food and glancing at our faces as we ate ours. It was unnerving. It had taken an hour of mindless telly after the last time for her to calm down and relax into my arms on the sofa. In my mind the stress of it all wasn’t worth it. But as she pushed away from me and started gathering up the bags with a look of determination on her face, I decided to let her do what she needed to do for now and pick up the pieces later.
Not my best idea as it turned out.
Mia
“You’re not an architect, Mia?” Max’s mum, Fern, asked me, her green eyes, so like her son’s, lasering me across the table.
“Er … no, I’m not exactly a creative person.”
“So what do you in’t office?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I told you, Mam,” Max’s annoyed voice cut his mum off. “She works with computers.”
“Oh, I see,” Fern said, her tone suggesting that she in fact did not see, at all.
“It’s actually a really important role, Mam,” Yaz put in. “It’s made a tonne of difference to how Max’s company is run and how the projects are presented.”
“Yaz. No offence, love – but you know absolutely bugger all about running a successful business or about computers.” Fern laughed as she took a sip of her wine. “My daughter is more into the sea, crystals and auras than anything grounded in reality. Not sure where she gets it from, but there we are.” Fern was a science teacher. She came across as an almost fiercely pragmatic lady. I’d learnt from Max that she got her teaching qualifications after leaving Max’s father. Aubrey, Max’s stepfather and Yaz’s father, was a GP. I liked him instantly. He had a quiet manner and kind, brown eyes, just like his daughter. Fern’s eyes were exactly the same shade of green as Max’s. It was a little unnerving having two sets of sharp, green, too-intelligent eyes focusing on you when you tried to answer a question.
Yaz’s face was red as she looked down at her plate. Heath, not picking up on Yaz’s discomfort, let out his own chuckle.
“Oh no, she’s into acupuncture as well now, aren’t you, Midge?” he said and she gave him a forced half-smile and small nod. Any hint of acknowledgement from Heath seemed to light Yaz up like a set of Christmas lights. It was almost painful to witness. Then he went on, “You do know that acupuncture has been proven now not to work according to the usual standards of medicine.”
“That study was flawed,” Yaz mumbled into her food. “And benefits are difficult to measure so–”
“How on earth would you know if a scientific study is floored or not, love? You’ve never looked at one in your life.” Fern said, laughing again. It didn’t seem like she was being deliberately cruel – but just treating Yaz like a child who’s just a little bit dim and needs things explained to her.
“That’s not–” Yaz began, but Max cut her off. “Can we not talk about science and medicine at the table for once.”
“This is great, Mia,” Teddy said on a near shout, shocking everyone at the table into silence. I blinked at the unexpected compliment – praise in any form was a rare event with Teddy. When I looked over at Teddy I could see him scowling at Max’s parents. Whether it was in Yaz’s defence or mine I wasn’t sure, but it did surprise me. From the moment they arrived it was obvious that Fern and Aubrey doted on Teddy.
“Thank you, Teddy,” I said just above a whisper. Those eyes all came to me again and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. It was frustrating that I found this so difficult, that I couldn’t relax, but Max’s parents were too intimidating for that.
“Yes, thank you, Mia,” Fern said, giving me a stiff smile. “Such an interesting way to treat an aubergine.” I wasn’t an idiot. Interesting did not equate to good. “How long have you been a vegetarian?”
“Er … I’m not a vegetarian,” I said, shooting a confused glance at Yaz. The reason I’d cooked this menu was because Yaz was vegan. Surely her parents knew this?
“Mia cooked it for me, Mam,” Yaz muttered into her food.
Fern rolled her eyes and Aubrey chuckled. “Oh that’s right in’t it, love,” he said through his amusement. “Hard to keep up with these fads of yours.”
“I’ve been vegan for ten years, Dad,” Yaz said. She was gripping her fork so tightly now that her knuckles were white. I’d been silent all meal but I couldn’t just let these comments go by. Not when I could see how hurt and embarrassed Yaz was in front of Heath.
“A study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association showed that vegans have substantially lower death rates than meat eaters. You know, er …” I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable with being the focus of the table, “… since you like research papers so much. Also, um, eating a vegan diet could be the single biggest way to reduce your environmental impact on earth. Which is also good since we only have twelve years to reverse global warming so … er, there’s that as well.” I caught Yaz’s eye and she smiled at me. Max grabbed my hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.
“Good points, Mia,” said Aubrey, giving me an encouraging smile, no doubt pleased that I did in fact possess the power of speech. Fern’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, but she did manage to give me a tight, close-lipped smile of her own. I felt a trickle of sweat down my back just as the smell of burning wafted from the kitchen. My eyes flew wide and my back shot straight as the panic set in. Amid all the Yaz bashing I’d forgotten about the pies in the oven. And goddamn it there was a meat one as well as a vegan one, but now they were all likely ruined. I pushed my chair back from the table in a sudden move that almost had it toppling over and then I ran to the oven to turn it off. When I flung open the door a small amount of smoke came out and I could see the burnt edges of both of the pies.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I pulled on oven gloves and grabbed the first pie out to dump it on the side. In my haste to grab the second pie it slipped and burnt my forearm before I could put it down.
“Ow, bugger,” I muttered as I inspected my forearm, but the smell of burning distracted me from my pain so I pushed it to the back of my mind and went to work on the pies to see if they were salvageable. My heart was racing and sound around me started to become muffled. I could feel the panic closing in as I tried to scrape away the blackened edge of the pies, which I’d spent ages painstakingly preparing earlier. I’d wanted something ready to go that I could put in the oven and forget about, which is precisely what I’d bloody well done. My hand was shaking so badly now that it was difficult to keep hold of the knife I was using. My vision had become blurred with tears. Only the throbbing in my arm grounded me in reality.
