Health Care

“Alex are you crazy?” Christopher hisses at me. I suck on my cocktail furiously. Christopher did not approve of my suggestion about the waitress. “I did not bring you here so you could try to set me up with the waiting staff!”

“I’m just saying,” I reply, setting my drink down and trying to shrug it off.

“I’m not letting you order any more of those,” he says, nodding towards my drink. “You’re not even half way through it and you’re already acting out of your mind.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Christopher!” I snap. “I’m only suggesting because I don’t think I’m your type of girl!” The family are looking over at us again. “You said yourself – you didn’t expect me to go on that holiday but guess what, I did! And guess what, I fucking loved it!”

“Alexa, don’t swear like that,” he warns. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“There you go again!” I say, this time throwing my arms up in frustration. “You’re no different than how you were before. You’re still trying to control every little thing I do and I just can’t take it.” My voice is softer now.

“You know it’s because I care,” he says, his voice low.

“Yes but you don’t. You care about my safety but you don’t care about my happiness.”
He thinks over my reply. I can see his brain cogs ticking. Classic timing again, the waitress brings over our meals. Christopher insisted on ordering the same as me. He reiterated the fact that he ‘trusts’ me. He now has a double-stacked bacon and cheeseburger to plough through, complete with fries. A brief look of disappoint flickers across his face.

“So what can I do to care about your happiness?” he says quietly. It sounds bizarre. What sort of prospective boyfriend asks that? I stare down at my food and bite my lip. I’m starting to feel awful already, and yet I haven’t even mentioned Sam. His name is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t know how to say it. Christopher is waiting for my reply. He reaches out to touch my hands again, but I blurt it out before he gets there.

“There’s someone else. At least, there might be.” His hands retract again.

“What?” he whispers, darkly. “Who? When?”

“On holiday,” I mumble. I’m still staring at my food.

“You met someone on holiday?” he asks. I nod, slowly at first, before lifting my head up to look at him. His green eyes are wide. “And you might be with them?”

“Well, maybe, at some point …” I trail off. I haven’t checked my phone. Maybe Sam’s text me already. Maybe he’s wondering why I’m not replying.

“Right,” Christopher says coldly, picking up his knife and fork. “Well I’m sure he’s a delightful person. After all, that place is simply known for being full of delightful people.” He’s seething. “So tell me,” he clatters his knife and fork down noisily. “How did it happen?”

“He came with a stag do,” I begin. Already Christopher’s eyebrows are raising. He disapproves. Rowdy men on stag dos. “He came to my club, and I got them free drinks.” Hussy, Christopher’s eyes scream. “Then they came back most nights, and they told me that Sam liked me. Then he met me after work, and we went to McDonald’s. Then he walked me back to my hotel.”

“McDonald’s!” Christopher cries. “What a gentleman!” he drawls. My blood boils.

“Yes, Christopher, McDonald’s. Because I like McDonald’s. And I liked his company. And I liked the club I worked for. And I liked meeting drunk men on stag dos. It makes me happy. And as for you – who can’t even stand to eat a meal in TGI Friday’s!” I hit a nerve. The family next to us stare at Christopher, waiting for his reply. It’s as though the whole place has turned silent. I wait with baited breath for his response, but it doesn’t come. Instantly, the restaurant erupts with a deafening rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. I glance around; a small boy around the age of ten stands nervously on top of his chair. When I turn back around, Christopher is fishing around in his wallet. He slaps fifty pound note on the table and goes to stand up.

“Where are you going?” I yell, over all the applause.

“I’ve gotta get out of here.” He gets up and looks at the money on the table. Glancing out across the car park, he realises he is my only transport home. He slaps another fifty down. “For the taxi,” he growls. With that, he is gone, his food untouched. I am furious. My conscience screams obscenities at him as he flies through the front door.

“What a bastard!” the father from the table next to me exclaims. His wife tries to hush him, watching their children’s bewildered faces. “No, I won’t hush Caroline!” he snaps. “You saw what he just did!” His wife leans over towards me, sympathetically.

“You shouldn’t have to stand for that treatment, dear,” she says.

“I know,” I roll my eyes. “That’s why I broke up with him in the first place.” The waitress reappears, flapping around me in an attempt to clear Christopher’s place. I presume she thinks that if she hurries, I will forget he was ever here. She shoots furtive glances at me. I think she is expecting me to burst into tears any second. I remain nonchalant.

“Are you okay?” she asks tentatively.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I reply, smiling. “He’s a total dick, though.” She smiles empathetically at me.
I take time to finish my dinner, seeing as I don’t have to pay for it. I intend on keeping all of Christopher’s change. The family next to me make polite conversation with me, about universities, about the price of petrol. I appreciate their friendliness. Once I leave one of Christopher’s fifties, I thank them for their kindness.

“Don’t be silly, love,” the father says to me. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a man who treats a perfectly decent girl like dirt.” He squeezes his wife’s hand, and she reciprocates it. They are evidently very in love. I bid my goodbyes and saunter into the car park. To my surprise, I see Christopher’s car waiting outside.