A few days later, Edward and I had another one of our ‘domestics’. This time it was the ice-cube tray.
‘What’s this?’ he demanded, coming in from work on Wednesday evening and pointing dramatically at the ice-cube tray in the freezer drawer, like Hercule Poirot when he finds the murder weapon.
‘An ice-cube tray,’ I replied.
‘An empty ice-cube tray!’
Oh shit.
‘Do you think it fills itself up?’ he accused.
The thing is, no, of course I didn’t. It’d just been a rough few days, and when I used the last ice cubes for my gin and tonic, filling up the ice-cube tray from the water-filter jug (which always seems to want filling and you have to wait what feels like forever while it filters through, drip by drip) and balancing it carefully in the freezer drawer, so it didn’t spill when you tried to close it, was the last thing on my mind.
Of course, I told none of this to Edward. Edward is one of those people for whom filling up an ice-cube tray is a duty not to be shirked. He would never dream of being so slovenly as to shove an empty ice-cube tray back in the freezer, regardless of what else is going on. He does everything in the order that you’re supposed to, whether it’s the small stuff in life or the big stuff. He grew up, got married, bought a house, had children; he didn’t miss any steps.
Which is why Edward has not found himself at forty-something with his life in a mess. He is not being ghosted and wondering where he went wrong, and drinking gin and tonics straight from the can because there are no ice cubes left, because some useless idiot didn’t fill up the tray.
‘You’re right. I’m a terrible person.’
‘Well, thank you, but I wouldn’t say you’re a terrible person.’
‘I am. If I’d filled up the ice-cube tray, my life would not be in the mess that it is now.’
Edward looked slightly alarmed by this sudden turn of events. One minute he was talking about the ice-cube tray and the next I was talking about emotions.
‘Well, I’m not sure how you reason that . . .’
His body stiffened, as if bracing himself.
‘That ice-cube tray is a metaphor for my life. What did I think was going to happen when I ran out of ice cubes? Huh? HUH?’ I was upset about Johnny, and after bottling it up for the last couple of weeks, my emotions found an outlet and I suddenly burst into tears.
Poor Edward.
‘Let me make you a drink. A proper gin and tonic, not like in those silly cans I keep finding in the recycling—’
‘But we don’t have any ice cubes,’ I wailed.
He smiled kindly. ‘They do at the pub.’
So now we’re here at the pub and it’s a bit weird, being with my landlord. We’ve never been out of the house together, and it’s strange to see him in a setting that doesn’t include the microwave or the fridge. Like the time in California when I saw one of my favourite Hollywood actors in the pasta aisle at Whole Foods. It was so odd. I’d only ever seen him looking gorgeous on screen, and there he was in a dodgy tracksuit with a jar of organic marinara sauce.
‘I wasn’t sure what gin you like, so I got Hendrick’s,’ he’s saying now, coming back to the table with two drinks. ‘I hope it’s OK.’
‘Thank you.’ I take a sip; it’s very strong and I haven’t eaten anything. I take another sip.
‘I trust it’s up to your usual standards.’
It’s an attempt at a joke, but for once I can’t even manage a smile.
‘Oh, I’m not fussy.’
Edward shifts in his seat and I feel immediately guilty. I owe him an explanation at least.
‘I’ve been ghosted,’ I blurt.
‘What?’
I sigh into my drink. ‘Johnny. The guy I was seeing. He disappeared.’
‘As in, missing?’ Edward looks concerned.
‘As in I haven’t heard from him in nearly two weeks and I’m not going to.’ I stab an ice cube with my straw. ‘I think you could say I’ve been dumped, Edward.’
He looks sympathetic. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘And I keep wondering if I said the wrong thing, or appeared too keen, or slept with him too soon.’
Sitting across from me, Edward’s face is impassive, but now the muscle in his jaw twitches.
‘I mean, what is it with me and relationships? You know, before I moved in with you I lived with my fiancé for five years, and look how that fell apart.’
I’m on a roll now and I’ve already hoovered up my drink. Edward doesn’t say anything but offers to buy me another one. I don’t say no.
As he goes to the bar, I think about Ethan. I can’t compare what happened between us with what happened with Johnny. I loved Ethan. I was completely in love with Ethan. We had a life together. I thought we had a future together. I was devastated when it ended. Johnny was a distraction from all that. He was handsome and charming and entertaining, but now I’ve had time to get some perspective I’ve realized we never had any proper conversations, never revealed our true selves. It was just banter and flirting and rosé and sex. And it was fun while it lasted.
Edward returns with another gin and tonic and several packets of crisps. A man after my own heart. I dive into them hungrily.
‘I just liked him, that’s all, and I thought he liked me,’ I shrug, tearing open the cheese and onion.
‘I’m sure he did. But men like Jonathan McCreary like themselves a lot more.’
I stop mid-mouthful. ‘Jonathan McCreary? Hang on, is that . . . Johnny? You know him?’
Edward nods. ‘I know of him. We’d never been formally introduced until recently . . .’
As he alludes to that awkward moment on the landing, I feel myself cringe with embarrassment.
‘But I’ve lived in the area long enough to learn of his reputation.’
‘His reputation?’
I look to Edward for an answer, but none is forthcoming.
‘What reputation?’
‘Let’s just say he has an eye for the ladies.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘Well, it seemed a little late for that . . .’
We look at each other and this time I can’t help but smile. It’s so bad it’s comical. Plus, the gin and tonics are really helping.
Edward opens the salt and vinegar and offers me one.
‘At the end of the day, it’s the rejection, really,’ I continue, taking one and in turn offering him the cheese and onion. ‘Have you ever been rejected? I bet you haven’t.’
‘I’ve had my share of rejections.’
‘When?’
‘Well, I didn’t get into Oxford.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I thought you were going to tell me about a girl!’
‘Oh, it was much worse than any girl. Dad was horribly disappointed. He’d been at Christ Church and it was expected I’d do the same, and then follow him into banking and become a CEO or the chairman of a major financial institution.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I went to Bristol and set up my software company.’
‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Not for my father it’s not. Three generations of Lewises have gone into banking.’
I watch Edward pause to take a large drink of his gin and tonic. To anyone else he has a successful career, but not, apparently, to his own father.
‘What about your mum?’ I ask, remembering Cricket saying it was important not to be afraid of mentioning loved ones who have died. ‘What would she have wanted for you?’
‘To be happy,’ he says, without missing a beat. ‘To do what I love. To follow my passion.’
‘So you did! Though I don’t know how anyone can be passionate about software,’ I joke, pulling a face.
‘Ah, now that’s where the perception of software is so misconstrued,’ he replies good-naturedly. ‘My work is focused on the environment, and creating and developing software to deal with renewable energy solutions. Today’s global challenges need new technologies and we’re at the cutting edge of providing the software that will enable this, so it’s really incredibly exciting.’
He lost me at ‘renewable energy solutions’. I’m two large gin and tonics in, and I honestly don’t have much of a clue what he’s talking about. But seeing how passionate he is about what he does, I realize I’ve been wrong about quite a few things concerning Edward.
And now I’ve finished another drink.
‘Same again?’ I stand up unsteadily. ‘This time it’s my round.’
‘Same again,’ he smiles. ‘And more crisps.’
Funny how things have a habit of turning around, isn’t it? I was so upset before, and now look at me – I’m really quite cheered up.
‘More crisps,’ I nod, doing a little mock salute before making my way to the bar.