Health Care
Chapter Four
Katherine eyes me suspiciously.
“What do you think he wants from you?” she whispers it, as though Christopher is still in the shop.
“No clue,” I shrug. I lean on my mop and brush my hand through my hair. “But I’ll probably get a free dinner out of it.” I smile wickedly, and Katherine giggles back.
“Oh no, you don’t think he’ll take you back to Bella Italia, do you?” Bella Italia is a small, traditional Italian restaurant set in an outlet of shops by the harbour. The food is exquisite, as are the live musicians. The tables stretch out onto the boardwalk, and you can watch the sunset form behind the yachts. Christopher’s father owns one of the yachts, as standard. Christopher had driven me there for our first date, way back last year. He was as charming as ever, stopping during his meal to clasp my hands and tell me I looked ‘lovely’. I’d worn a black and white dress; high-neck, the same one I’d worn to my cousin’s wedding reception. He wouldn’t let me pay for even a fraction of the bill, and instead walked me to one of the eclectic bars along the boardwalk. My jittering nerves, alongside the hideously strong cocktails, reduced me to a red-faced giggling mess by the end of the evening. Christopher practically carried me back to his car. Come the morning, I text him to apologise for ruining the gorgeous evening he had planned.
Don’t be so silly, he'd replied. I liked you no matter what, both civilised and uncivilised. I blushed.
We made a point of returning to the same bar every few weeks. The bartenders got to know me so well that sometimes I insisted on taking my friends there too, on nights that Christopher was not free. Katherine remembers the time that he had rang me at gone 2am, demanding to know where I was. After I drunkenly replied that I was at Giorgio’s, and Mikel, the bartender, was asking why Christopher wasn’t with me, I was given a lecture about how I should cut down on my ‘excessive drinking habits’ as it makes me ‘vulnerable’, and perhaps I ‘could not be trusted’. He had presumed that Mikel was itching to discover if we had broken up.
“I’m not being unreasonable,” Christopher snapped at me when I later brought the conversation up. “He’s had the eye for you from the start.”
I should tell you that Mikel really only has eyes for Jose, his co-worker. If you think I’m joking, I saw them kissing through the staff door window. They are an adorable couple.
Christopher and I never went to Giorgio’s again. I insisted over a hundred times that I ‘knew my limits’. In fact, this was a total lie. By this point, Tuesday nights were ‘student nights’ in town, and Christopher could never join us as his Wednesday shift at the pharmacy had swapped to 8am – 5pm. He insisted I did not keep him up late texting, so I utilised this freedom to get absolutely plastered with my best friends. As long as I had taken enough paracetamol, showered and scrubbed the stamps off my forearm, I was ready to greet Christopher at 5pm and he did not suspect a thing.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have been deceiving my boyfriend, but if he had it his way, I would be ironing his work uniform at 8pm on a Tuesday night, ready for the morning. This would be before doing an hour’s worth of light reading so we had something intelligent to discuss, preparing his lunch, and finally climbing into bed next to him while he comments on how much of a worthy lifestyle I lead.
“I’m glad there are still girls like you,” he whispered once, kissing my forehead and falling asleep. What, absolute mugs? My conscience would yell at him.
“Does he know about Sam?” Katherine asks, watching me check my phone.
“No way!” I cry.
“And are you going to tell him?” she challenges.
“That depends,” I muse. I guess there is no reason to unless Christopher says something that would prompt me to tell him that just maybe, I’ve met somebody new. Like asking if you want to get back together, my conscience clarifies.
“I think you should,” Katherine growls. “That’ll put him in his place.” Katherine has harboured a grudge towards Christopher ever since he tried to lay the blame on her for my ‘excessive drinking habits’. He stole Katherine’s number from my phone one night and rang her when he could not get hold of me. He gave her strict instructions to put me in a taxi that would take me back to his house. Katherine attempted to protest, arguing that I deserve a night out, and I would be looked after. I guess this fell on deaf ears, as Katherine’s many vodka-and-Cokes left her slurring like crazy. Christopher accused Katherine of ‘corrupting’ me. I guess that was the final straw.
“He can’t keep thinking he can control you like that,” she whined to me at work. I just rolled my eyes apologetically at her. Eventually, I got Christopher to text his apology to Katherine about the way he spoke to her. She reluctantly accepted it.
“I’m not apologising for getting you home to me,” he said, his voice grave. “It’s not my fault that I care about you and I want you safe, is it?” It was as though town, despite all its bouncers and security guards, is crawling with axe-murderers and rapists.
*
Monday came around surprisingly quickly. I spent the morning tidying my room as I stifled yawns and struggled to keep my eyes open. I had a late night, texting Sam until way into the early hours. He is making plans to come to Bristol next week. I promised him dinner and then into town. He said he would choose a day and then book a hotel room to stay in.
I can’t expect your parents to let me stay with you, he wrote. So respectful. After all, they haven’t even met me yet. My face fell at the prospect of spending the night alone in bed while he sleeps in a hotel.
Why don’t you book the room for two? I text back.
Do you want me to book it for two? Are you sure? He was always careful not to overstep the mark. Aside from making out with me in McDonald’s, but that was different. At least, I tried to convince myself it was different.
Book it for two. I typed. Bossy, perhaps, but it’s a female’s prerogative, right?
Throwing my bag into the boot of my car, I scrolled back through last night’s messages with a grin across my face. Maybe I would tell Christopher tonight, if he asks me about my plans. Truthfully, it was bound to come out. I was too excited with girly-crush-emotions to keep it to myself.
“What do you think he wants from you?” she whispers it, as though Christopher is still in the shop.
“No clue,” I shrug. I lean on my mop and brush my hand through my hair. “But I’ll probably get a free dinner out of it.” I smile wickedly, and Katherine giggles back.
“Oh no, you don’t think he’ll take you back to Bella Italia, do you?” Bella Italia is a small, traditional Italian restaurant set in an outlet of shops by the harbour. The food is exquisite, as are the live musicians. The tables stretch out onto the boardwalk, and you can watch the sunset form behind the yachts. Christopher’s father owns one of the yachts, as standard. Christopher had driven me there for our first date, way back last year. He was as charming as ever, stopping during his meal to clasp my hands and tell me I looked ‘lovely’. I’d worn a black and white dress; high-neck, the same one I’d worn to my cousin’s wedding reception. He wouldn’t let me pay for even a fraction of the bill, and instead walked me to one of the eclectic bars along the boardwalk. My jittering nerves, alongside the hideously strong cocktails, reduced me to a red-faced giggling mess by the end of the evening. Christopher practically carried me back to his car. Come the morning, I text him to apologise for ruining the gorgeous evening he had planned.
Don’t be so silly, he'd replied. I liked you no matter what, both civilised and uncivilised. I blushed.
We made a point of returning to the same bar every few weeks. The bartenders got to know me so well that sometimes I insisted on taking my friends there too, on nights that Christopher was not free. Katherine remembers the time that he had rang me at gone 2am, demanding to know where I was. After I drunkenly replied that I was at Giorgio’s, and Mikel, the bartender, was asking why Christopher wasn’t with me, I was given a lecture about how I should cut down on my ‘excessive drinking habits’ as it makes me ‘vulnerable’, and perhaps I ‘could not be trusted’. He had presumed that Mikel was itching to discover if we had broken up.
“I’m not being unreasonable,” Christopher snapped at me when I later brought the conversation up. “He’s had the eye for you from the start.”
I should tell you that Mikel really only has eyes for Jose, his co-worker. If you think I’m joking, I saw them kissing through the staff door window. They are an adorable couple.
Christopher and I never went to Giorgio’s again. I insisted over a hundred times that I ‘knew my limits’. In fact, this was a total lie. By this point, Tuesday nights were ‘student nights’ in town, and Christopher could never join us as his Wednesday shift at the pharmacy had swapped to 8am – 5pm. He insisted I did not keep him up late texting, so I utilised this freedom to get absolutely plastered with my best friends. As long as I had taken enough paracetamol, showered and scrubbed the stamps off my forearm, I was ready to greet Christopher at 5pm and he did not suspect a thing.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have been deceiving my boyfriend, but if he had it his way, I would be ironing his work uniform at 8pm on a Tuesday night, ready for the morning. This would be before doing an hour’s worth of light reading so we had something intelligent to discuss, preparing his lunch, and finally climbing into bed next to him while he comments on how much of a worthy lifestyle I lead.
“I’m glad there are still girls like you,” he whispered once, kissing my forehead and falling asleep. What, absolute mugs? My conscience would yell at him.
“Does he know about Sam?” Katherine asks, watching me check my phone.
“No way!” I cry.
“And are you going to tell him?” she challenges.
“That depends,” I muse. I guess there is no reason to unless Christopher says something that would prompt me to tell him that just maybe, I’ve met somebody new. Like asking if you want to get back together, my conscience clarifies.
“I think you should,” Katherine growls. “That’ll put him in his place.” Katherine has harboured a grudge towards Christopher ever since he tried to lay the blame on her for my ‘excessive drinking habits’. He stole Katherine’s number from my phone one night and rang her when he could not get hold of me. He gave her strict instructions to put me in a taxi that would take me back to his house. Katherine attempted to protest, arguing that I deserve a night out, and I would be looked after. I guess this fell on deaf ears, as Katherine’s many vodka-and-Cokes left her slurring like crazy. Christopher accused Katherine of ‘corrupting’ me. I guess that was the final straw.
“He can’t keep thinking he can control you like that,” she whined to me at work. I just rolled my eyes apologetically at her. Eventually, I got Christopher to text his apology to Katherine about the way he spoke to her. She reluctantly accepted it.
“I’m not apologising for getting you home to me,” he said, his voice grave. “It’s not my fault that I care about you and I want you safe, is it?” It was as though town, despite all its bouncers and security guards, is crawling with axe-murderers and rapists.
*
Monday came around surprisingly quickly. I spent the morning tidying my room as I stifled yawns and struggled to keep my eyes open. I had a late night, texting Sam until way into the early hours. He is making plans to come to Bristol next week. I promised him dinner and then into town. He said he would choose a day and then book a hotel room to stay in.
I can’t expect your parents to let me stay with you, he wrote. So respectful. After all, they haven’t even met me yet. My face fell at the prospect of spending the night alone in bed while he sleeps in a hotel.
Why don’t you book the room for two? I text back.
Do you want me to book it for two? Are you sure? He was always careful not to overstep the mark. Aside from making out with me in McDonald’s, but that was different. At least, I tried to convince myself it was different.
Book it for two. I typed. Bossy, perhaps, but it’s a female’s prerogative, right?
Throwing my bag into the boot of my car, I scrolled back through last night’s messages with a grin across my face. Maybe I would tell Christopher tonight, if he asks me about my plans. Truthfully, it was bound to come out. I was too excited with girly-crush-emotions to keep it to myself.