Handing a grateful Shep his pint, I plonk my own G&T on the table and look at him earnestly.
‘I have an idea.’
‘An idea about what?’ He tips his glass in my direction, which I interpret as a combined ‘cheers and thanks’.
‘I have an idea that could solve your problem.’
‘Of being broke?’ He looks immediately sceptical. ‘Don’t tell me… you’re a psychic and you’ve had a vision about tonight’s lottery numbers.’
I frown. ‘No.’
‘You’re secretly a gangster and you’re gonna hold my folks at gunpoint until they cough up?’
‘That’s ridiculously unrealistic and over the top.’
‘But the lottery one was perfectly believable?’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Interesting where you draw the line.’
‘Ha ha, funny man.’ I stick my tongue out at him. ‘Good to see your sense of humour isn’t completely shot by all this, but how about you shut up and listen?’
‘Sorry. I won’t say another word.’
‘Thank you. I have a proposition for you.’
‘Now it’s getting interesting.’ His eyes widen and he snickers. ‘Yes, I will sleep with you for money. I’m that desperate.’
‘Seriously?’ I eyeball him. ‘This isn’t some Indecent Proposal moment, and what happened to not saying another word? You’re making me question my judgement here.’
‘Again, sorry. Keeping quiet at key moments has never been my strong point.’
‘Well, you must be a delight in bed.’
‘Ha! Good one. Maybe I should have you write some material for me.’ He clocks the look I’m giving him. ‘But for now, I’ll just shut up.’
‘Wise choice. OK, so my proposition is this: I have a flat with a spare room just a five minute walk from here. Why don’t you come and stay with me, so you can do your festival shows and have your shot at that big break you’re seeking?’
Shep looks stunned. ‘Are you for real?’
‘Why not?’ I shrug. ‘I have the space and you need a temporary home. I can be your new festival host.’
‘But… you don’t know me… and you don’t know you’re safe with me. I could be some crazed lunatic who made up this sob story to prey on a vulnerable woman.’
‘Don’t you be getting all sexist now.’ I tut at him.
‘Ah, shit, I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘No, I mean I could be some crazed lunatic who preys on vulnerable guys. Is that not what you basically accused me of before? For all you know, you might not be safe with me.’ I waggle my eyebrows, casting him a mischievous grin.
He blanches, and at first, I can’t tell whether this is a genuine reaction to my bolshiness, or him playing along with my jokey insinuation that I might be the serial killer out of the two of us.
‘Holy shit, I’ve met my match,’ he pretty much announces to the whole bar, then lowers his voice when he notices people in the vicinity looking at us curiously. ‘You did say you work in a lab. You could easily chop me up and liquify me, and no one would be any the wiser.’
‘Exactly.’ My eyes glint wickedly. ‘So, shall we discuss whether you want to take your chances at mine for the next three or so weeks?’
‘Listen, there’s nothing to talk about. If you’re absolutely sure about this offer, I’m gonna bite your bloody hand off.’
‘Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.’ I sip at my G&T casually. ‘Anyway, you’ll be kind of doing me a favour, so it’s win-win.’
‘How’s that?’ Shep’s expression turns to one of interest as it dawns on me what I’ve let slip. I’ve clearly had too many drinks.
‘How’s what?’ I go for ignorance to try and gloss over my faux pas.
‘How will I be helping you out?’
‘Did I say that?’ I’m suddenly very interested in my surroundings.
‘You did, and now you’re acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don’t you gaslight me, Lea. That’s no way to treat a roomie.’
I snort. ‘You’ve been my roomie for all of ninety seconds. I’ve had a longer relationship with a packet of crisps. Plus, that special status will not be awarded until your luggage is in my spare room.’
‘Is that right? Well, in that case, I expect a ceremony, flag raising, drinks reception… the full shebang.’
Shep attempts to make eye contact with me, but I avoid him, knowing full well that he’s trying to wear me down.
‘Lea, Lea, Lea,’ he coaxes me, turning serious. ‘You’ve done an incredibly generous thing for me, and you have no idea how grateful I am. There’s obviously something going on with you as well, so why not let me help you.’
I chew my lip apprehensively. Shep is such a character. He’s probably someone with scores of mates, who’s never short of someone to enjoy a night out with, and he likely wouldn’t understand my predicament. Having made this positive connection with him after our rocky start, I don’t want to risk putting him off again, because I’m now really looking forward to having him as a temporary roommate. He might be desperate for somewhere to stay, but that could quickly change – especially if he comes to the conclusion that he was right about me in the first place.
‘Come on.’ He gives me a friendly nudge. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me and I’ll never breathe a word of it. You’ve basically saved my arse, so I’m forever indebted to you now. What’s going on with you?’
‘OK…’ I take a deep breath, hesitating before I start to share. ‘My day was shit because I found out through Instagram that the guy I’ve been seeing is moving to Australia.’
‘That’s harsh. What a dick.’
‘That’s what I thought. Told him as much, as well. We’d been seeing each other for about six weeks, which I know isn’t long, but I honestly thought it was going somewhere – he even said stuff to make me think that way, I didn’t just dream it up in my head. Turns out he was using me the whole time.’
‘I’m sorry, Lea.’ With our roles having reversed, it’s now Shep’s turn to offer the sympathy. ‘Some people can be right arseholes when it comes to sex and relationships. So, is that how I’m helping you out? By taking your mind off him?’
‘Eh… yeah, that’s it.’ I jump on the out he’s handed me. ‘We were meant to have a date tonight. I couldn’t bear sitting in by myself, knowing he’d be out celebrating with his rugby mates, so—’
‘That’s total crap,’ Shep interrupts me. ‘You think I didn’t spot that junction to easy street you just veered off at?’
‘What are you talking about?’ I do my best to look innocent, but I can feel my face flush.
‘One thing you clearly don’t realise, Lea, is that to be a comedian, you need to pay close attention to people. You have to master the art of reading them, so you can rib them at the right moments and spot when to back the hell off.’
‘Nothing gets past you, does it?’ I grumble.
‘No, it doesn’t. So, you may as well tell me what’s really going on. Warts and all.’
With his appraising eyes on me, I feel way too exposed. I don’t want to have to watch as he goes through the reactions of disbelief, then pity, then becoming freaked out as he inevitably lands on the assumption that he’s been recruited to be my ‘friend’. He’ll be landing back on ‘weird loner chick’ before we’ve even finished our drinks.
‘Do you not need to go and get your stuff from the station?’ I make one last desperate attempt at a diversion. ‘And what about your show? Do you not need to let the Fringe organisers know it’s back on?’
‘Nice try.’ Shep shoots me a look and sinks the last of his pint. ‘I haven’t cancelled it yet – couldn’t bring myself to do it – and this is the one night of the week it doesn’t run. I was gonna ring the Fringe office tomorrow morning to let them know.’
‘Denial was in full swing, then.’
‘Something like that. Anyway, I can tell that whatever this is, it’s too difficult for you to share, so I’m gonna back the hell off. How about you give me your address and I’ll go get my stuff, then meet you back at yours? If I walk there and grab a taxi back, I should be with you in about an hour, say around nine p.m.?’
Relief washes over me as it becomes clear I’m off the hook – at least for now. ‘Sounds like a plan. I’ll go get your room ready.’
By nine p.m., I’ve made up my spare room and I’m lounging on the sofa watching Friends while waiting for Shep to appear. Thanks to my earlier cleaning spree, the flat is immaculate, so I haven’t had to do much in preparation for his arrival – and thanks to Paul being a total wanker, I can even offer Shep a decent breakfast in the morning.
Although it feels a little sad to think it ‘out loud’, I’m really looking forward to having Shep here. He seems like great fun and we appear to have hit it off right away. Not in a romantic sense, obviously. He’s definitely not my type, which is a good thing, because that kind of ‘hitting it off’ could get messy quickly with a temporary live-in arrangement in the mix. It will just be so nice to have someone around to chat to – and even better that it’s someone I think I’ll get on well with.
My previous failed attempts at having flatmates haunt me to this day. One turned out to be a creep who regularly wandered around in a towel, flexing his abs and making suggestive remarks. Another would have the noisiest sex I’ve ever heard. I swear she sounded like a piglet having its tail cut off very slowly with a pair of scissors. Then the last one – before I finally admitted to myself it was not a good idea to live with strangers – would bring random drunk folk he met at the pub back for late-night parties. Each time it was a complete mare trying to get rid of them, and somehow, I was left feeling like the bad one. All because it’s my flat and I had to ask them to leave – it’s not like I had the option to go myself.
It’s taking longer than I would have expected for Shep to walk down to Waverley and get a taxi back to mine, as per his plan. So much so that I start to wonder if he’s even going to turn up. As it gets close to two hours since we parted ways, I become immune to the jokes of New York’s funniest friendship group and find myself increasingly fidgety. Getting up from the sofa, I go to the window and look down to the street, but apart from an elderly man walking a dog and a group of boisterous teenagers noisily making their way along the road, there’s no one around.
A nagging sensation rises within me. What if Shep changed his mind and went to the airport after all? What if, after giving it some proper thought, he decided it was too weird staying with some random woman for the best part of a month? He said he was skilled at reading people, so maybe he clocked that I was desperate for company and used picking up his stuff as an excuse to get away. All he took was my address. We didn’t swap phone numbers, which now seems odd. If he had got lost, how would he contact me to find his way here?
Moving away from the window, I wander aimlessly around my flat, re-organising things that really don’t need to be re-organised. It’s an anxious habit, I’m aware of this, but I can never seem to stop myself in the moment.
Would Shep really do that? Especially after I told him how I’d been dumped that day. Surely, he wouldn’t be that cruel. But then what do I know about him? He’s basically a stranger who knew all the right things to say. That doesn’t mean he isn’t another Paul. And to be honest, if he was picking up the ‘lonely’ vibes from me, could I really blame him for doing a runner?
By the time the clock in the hallway hits ten thirty, I’ve accepted that he’s not coming.
‘What did you expect, you idiot?’ I berate my reflection in the hall mirror. ‘You can’t go inviting some bloke to stay, then tell him you’ve just been dumped. Think about it.’
Shaking my head at my reflection, I return to the sofa and switch Friends back on, then about three seconds later, my flat buzzer sounds.
‘Oh my gosh, he’s actually here,’ I announce in surprise to the empty room.
Hopping back off the sofa, I pad across to the door and lift the intercom handset.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, I’m here to see my mum who’s unwell, but she’s not answering,’ a female voice says in my ear. ‘Think her buzzer’s broken. Can you let me in?’
My heart sinks. ‘Oh, erm… of course.’
I press the door release button to let her in and listen – just to make sure she is who she says she is – as she ascends the staircase and knocks on the door of a flat one floor down from mine. My elderly neighbour greets her in familiar tones, making me comfortable that I haven’t let anyone unsavoury into the building. However, with that temporary distraction out of the way, my focus is now back on who wasn’t at the door.
Returning to the living room, tears well as I think about how daft and naïve I’ve been. I was so excited by the thought of having someone around, I didn’t even consider that Shep might not show up. What was I even thinking, inviting him to stay like that? He must think I’m such a loser.
This is all it takes for my mind to run away from me and the tears to spill over, all rational thought having exited stage left. I imagine him returning home and telling his friends about me, then adding this experience to one of his future stand-up shows locally. After trying to be kind, though not without my own – quite harmless – personal intent, it really stings that, for him, I’ll be nothing more than some great material and one hell of a punchline.