At 12:30 p.m., Shep and I are standing outside the entrance to Melville’s, a quaint Scottish restaurant on William Street, in the West End. It’s a place that’s been around so long – having built its solid reputation through the use of local seasonal produce – I’d say it’s become a bit of an Edinburgh institution.
‘Ready?’ he asks me.
‘Are you ready?’ I pull a pained face.
‘Lea, I was born ready.’
‘I don’t know what that means, but I’m glad you’re going in with fighting spirit. Just try and remember what that feels like, yeah?’
The confident smile on Shep’s face falters slightly, and though I’m ashamed to admit it, I get a little satisfaction out of this. Because I’m still smarting over his earlier comment about using my family dynamics for stand-up material – though probably more from what that insinuates about his reasons for being here. If my parents act like I think they will, though, they’ll deserve all they get. I mean that in an affectionate sense, of course.
‘All right. Let’s do it.’ Shep pulls open the door and strides inside, with me at his heels.
‘There they are,’ I hear my dad exclaim at a volume that lets everyone in the minimalist, but tastefully decorated, restaurant know we’ve arrived, causing me to colour with embarrassment.
‘Hi, you two.’ I swoop in and hug my mum, then trot around the other side of the table to give my dad a kiss on the cheek. ‘Dad, you’ve already met—’
‘Indeed, I have.’ He gets up from his seat to shake Shep’s hand in what is clearly a ‘power move’, because my dad is at least three inches taller than him.
‘And, Mum, this is Shep. Obviously.’ I give a helpless shrug that betrays my discomfort, then I melt into the background while she follows my dad’s lead and gets to her feet as Shep steps forward to greet her.
‘It’s great to meet you—’
‘Karen,’ I quickly supply from behind, before Shep can resort to ‘Mrs Lea’s ma’ in the same way he did with my dad.
‘Karen,’ he parrots me. ‘Really great.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Ciaran.’ She’s clearly been filled in on the whole name thing.
With the introductions done, we all stand awkwardly until my dad invites us to sit.
‘This seems like a nice place,’ says Shep as he slips into his seat.
‘Oh, it is.’ My mum’s perfectly styled blonde bob bounces on her shoulders as she nods enthusiastically. ‘Lea, David and I have been a few times.’
‘It’s really popular,’ I add, then look at my dad. ‘Which makes me wonder how you got a reservation at such short notice and during the festival.’
My dad smiles almost smugly. ‘I called and asked them to let me know if they got a cancellation – said there would be a generous tip in it for them. The woman I spoke to said she remembered me from our previous visits.’
‘I’d “remember” you too if there was the offer of a generous tip.’ I nudge Shep and he obediently chuckles, then immediately straightens his face when my dad’s appraising eyes land on him.
‘So, shall we cut to the chase and see if you’re a good match for our daughter?’ says my dad, in what can only be described as a ‘dick move’, undoubtedly designed to punish us for that shared joke.
I wince in anticipation of Shep’s response, but he doesn’t flinch.
‘What would you like to know, David?’ he asks. ‘I have nothing to hide.’
‘That wasn’t the case a few days ago.’ My dad raises a patronising eyebrow. ‘I distinctly remember you trying to hide your existence from me entirely.’
‘That was my fault,’ I rush to explain. ‘I panicked and told him to sneak out. You already know that.’
We’re temporarily spared from further scrutiny by the server, who has come to take our drinks order. My dad makes a show of choosing a ‘good’ bottle of wine, as he always does when we eat out, despite the fact I know that, at home, he drinks pretty much anything that’s been on offer at Tesco. Then as soon as the drinks order is in, we’re approached by another member of staff about our food choices. By the time that’s seen to, the wine has arrived and is being poured, and my hope is that this elongated distraction will allow for a natural shift to a more relaxed and amicable tone.
More fool me.
‘So, back to you, Ciaran…’ The moment we’re left in peace, my dad’s focus is back on Shep like flies on horseshit. ‘What do you do, aside from dabbling in comedy, which I assume is more of a hobby?’
I close my eyes tightly in despair. This is literally the worst question my dad could have kicked off with. I’m desperate to leap in and save Shep from having to answer, but I realise that’s not the right thing to do. Re-opening my eyes, I expect to see Shep’s face radiating annoyance, layered with the perpetual hurt his family have so unfairly bestowed upon him, but if he’s feeling it, he hides it very well.
‘Actually, stand-up comedy is more than a hobby,’ he says. ‘I’m trying to build a career out of it.’
‘Right.’ My dad does a really bad job of hiding his surprise. ‘You think you can make a living out of it?’
‘I do.’ Shep nods. ‘I am already making money from it. I’m no investment banker, granted, but at least I can go to sleep at night knowing that the only person I’m at risk of bankrupting is myself.’
I laugh at this. ‘See, he’s a natural, Dad.’
‘You certainly seem to be able to joke your way through an awkward moment.’ My dad’s face is impassive.
‘It’s an essential part of the job,’ says Shep. ‘That and being able to self-deprecate.’
‘I see. And if you don’t mind me asking, at the point when you’re at risk of bankrupting my daughter as well as yourself, what will you do?’
‘Oh, my God, please stop,’ I can’t help but butt in this time. ‘Dad, I realise your nose is out of joint because of how you found out about us… um… being involved, but that doesn’t make it OK to interrogate Shep like this.’
‘His name is Ciaran, darling,’ my mum pitches in rather unhelpfully, her blue-grey eyes seeking out mine. ‘Is it not a bit odd to call your boyfriend by his nickname?’
‘Sure, whatever,’ I mumble. ‘More importantly, can you pull him into line?’
I jerk my head towards my dad, who’s wearing such a pompous expression, I’d quite like to take a handful of butter from the dish on the table and smear it all over his face. That would wipe the smile off it, for sure.
Mum thankfully answers my plea for help. ‘David, for the sake of our daughter and our ability to show our faces here again, would you tone it down a bit? I’m sure Lea and Ciaran are miles away from being financially intertwined, and quite frankly, you’re giving me a headache.’
For a second, my dad looks like he’s about to backchat her in the way I’ve seen him do so many times – and which was possibly one of the reasons they got divorced in the first place – but then he seems to think better of it and visibly powers down.
‘Ciaran, perhaps we should focus on something lighter.’ He stops short of an apology, but at least seems to acknowledge that a change of conversational direction may be wise. ‘How about we start with the basics: how did you two meet and how long have you been in a relationship?’
Though I’m relieved my dad has stopped figuratively throwing his faeces at Shep in a misguided attempt to show he’s the alpha, these two perfectly reasonable questions fill me with dread, as I realise the mistake Shep and I have made. Our off-the-wall experience at Tanya’s place and our foggy heads from drinking too much have caused us to overlook something very important: getting our story straight.
Gnawing anxiously on my bottom lip, I glance at Shep, who gives me an almost imperceptible nod that I understand to mean ‘follow my lead’. After a moment of nervous contemplation, I swallow thickly and return the gesture, giving him the go-ahead.
After another short pause while our delicious-looking starters are served, Shep pulls off such a masterful interpretation of how we met and got together that I have to hold myself back from giving him a standing ovation. Instead of fabricating a completely different story, which is what I probably would have done – and which would have surely unravelled the moment we were put to the test on any part of it – Shep basically tells my parents everything that did happen, including the fact that I didn’t initially see him as a possible partner. However, he doesn’t mention his lack of accommodation at the time and our current living arrangements, nor the intensity of the spats between us that led to our first kiss. He paints it so well, it almost comes across as a fairy tale of him winning my love after I saved him.
‘Oh, isn’t that lovely, David?’ Thankfully, my mum appears to have been won over by Shep’s recounting of our ‘love story’. ‘Lea was the kind stranger who offered Ciaran some moral support in his hour of need and helped him get back on his feet.’
My dad licks his lips like a lion preparing to devour its prey, and I’m pretty sure I see Shep gulp.
‘Sure,’ he says. ‘If your definition of “lovely” is our daughter being romantically pursued by a man she so selflessly helped. And him continuing to hang around, despite her having made it clear upfront that she wasn’t interested in him. I have another word to describe that. It’s called—’
‘OK, that’s enough of that,’ I interject in a sing-song voice laced with panic. ‘Dad, I think you’ve completely misinterpreted that chain of events. Shep wasn’t “pursuing” me, and I wasn’t “not interested” in the sense that you’re imagining. I was very much enjoying spending time with him. I just took a bit longer to catch up on that front, and now I’m so glad I did.’
I give Shep a doe-eyed look that’s only part theatre and he mirrors it perfectly, making my insides dance with joy, despite the fact I know that this is all for show.
‘Look, David…’ Shep adopts a conciliatory tone. ‘I know we got off to a shaky start and I am genuinely sorry about that. I get how protective you are of Lea, and while I’m not a father myself, I can understand why. She’s a wonderful person, and the last thing I would want to do is hurt her…’
While Shep continues to appeal to my dad’s human side – which to this point has been completely absent – I watch and listen with a mix of deep longing and sadness. Because what I’m getting right now is a window into how things could be if Shep and I were to take our relationship to the next level. Given the chance, he’s the kind of man I would proudly have as my boyfriend: caring, protective and respectful.
Yes, yes and yes, please.
Only, none of this part is real. Our ‘relationship’ is essentially built on raw animalistic attraction and favours of the non-sexual kind. I gave him somewhere to stay and supported him to get his numbers up at his show. In return, he helped me build some friendships and now he’s doing this favour for me here, to keep me out of hot water, while probably at the same time crafting a hilarious new show called: I’m Meeting the Parents, Get Me Out of Here. If I weren’t so saddened by the impending loss of Shep from my life, I’d probably find it quite funny myself.
‘…I guess all I’m saying, David, is that I may not have known Lea long, but she’s already important to me. I just want to make sure you know this.’
Shep takes my hand and squeezes it, and I know exactly what that squeeze is attempting to convey. He means every word – but purely in relation to our current context, which my parents are not privy to. It feels clear to me that, in the nicest possible way, he’s making sure I don’t misread anything that’s happening here, which feels lousy, but at the same time, it’s more than I could ordinarily expect. As much as I feel deflated by it, I am grateful to Shep for all of this.
We all look to my dad, whose face is giving nothing away. He appears to be reflecting on Shep’s words, and he’s taking way too much time over it. This, I consider to be another power move, and I decide I’ve had enough of his nonsense.
‘Dad?’ I seek out eye contact with him, making it clear I’m expecting him to respond positively, or he and I will have a problem.
‘Ahem… right.’ He clears his throat in a very dad-like way. ‘Well, thank you for that, Ciaran. I suppose we can let bygones be bygones and start afresh.’
‘Thank you, David.’ Shep bows his head a little, still playing up the subservient role.
‘Yeah, thanks, Dad.’ I grin at Shep, who seems relieved at having turned things around – and I’m not sure whether this part is for show or not.
With the tension between us having finally eased, we dive into our respective starters, and spend the next couple of minutes positively critiquing them, remarking on how the restaurant never fails to deliver top quality food.
‘Did you not mention that you have a show this afternoon, Ciaran?’ My dad swirls the wine in his glass and sticks his nose in it like he’s some kind of connoisseur.
‘I do, yes.’ Shep rests his fork and knife on his plate. ‘I still have plenty of time, though. It doesn’t start until half-four.’
‘You don’t have to be anywhere after this, do you, Karen?’ my dad asks.
My mum, who has been caught mid-chew, quickly swallows her food and looks delighted by this question. ‘I most certainly do not.’
‘Great, then we’ll come along. It will be good to see you in action, Ciaran.’
I choke on my water and quickly turn to see Shep’s reaction. He’s smiling, and I know he tells me he’s unflappable on stage, but I’m certain I detect the slightest hint of discomfort. What the hell is my dad playing at? That’s not ‘letting bygones be bygones’, that’s essentially putting Shep under surveillance. The last thing he needs when he’s trying to build his dream career is his pretend-girlfriend’s dad sitting in the audience, giving him the evil eye and (oh God, please, no) maybe even heckling him. I really wouldn’t put it past my dad at this point.
‘Dad, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,’ I attempt to rescue Shep from this preposterousness.
‘Why not?’ My dad holds up his hands in a show of bafflement. ‘Ciaran’s a professional comedian. If he’s going to make the big time, he’ll have to put up with worse than having his girlfriend’s mum and dad in the audience. Isn’t that right, Ciaran?’
‘That’s 100 per cent right.’ Shep locks eyes with my dad and there’s no mistaking what’s passing between them: this game is on.
So much for their fresh start, I think to myself, as they continue to stare each other out, and it takes everything I have not to put my head in my hands and wail with frustration.