Kismetology (5 page)

My head is spinning with this new information.

"What? Huh? Anymore of what?"

"Men. You know, like Jeff. Available men."

"What’s wrong with Jeff?"

"Nothing’s wrong with Jeff, I just don’t think we’re
very compatible."

"He couldn’t be more compatible if he’d been created in
a test tube."

"He was very nice, but there was just no chemistry
between us."

"It seems like there was. It seemed very chemically
when I dropped you off."

"Nope. Not tonight. So are there any more?"

"What do you think they are? Doughnuts?"

"I thought you wanted me to meet men."

"I do." I shake my head. "I just thought
you’d like Jeff."

"Well, I did like Jeff, but he just wasn’t… You know
what I mean, Mackenzie. Sparky. No sizzle. We both agreed"

"Sizzle is for sunbeds," I mutter.
"Fine." I sigh, defeated. "I’ll find you someone else."

"Brilliant. Thanks, darling. I’ll just be getting home
to my Baby."

I shut the door after her as she leaves.

"I don’t believe this," I say. I glance at Dan,
and I can see what he’s just itching to say.

"Don’t say
I told you so
," I warn him.
"Just don’t say it."

I sit back down beside him and he slips an arm around me.

"So… What next?" He asks.

I shrug. "Look at it this way: the evening hasn’t been
a total bust. At least we know she’s open to meeting men and she’s willing to
date again. That’s good, right?"

Dan shrugs.

"Now I just have to find someone for her to date."

CHAPTER 8

I
really
have to find someone
for her to date.

Dan likes socks. It doesn’t matter what kind of socks they
are, as long as they are bright, patterned, and clash with everything. Dan gets
up in the mornings and pulls the first two socks out of the drawer—it doesn’t
matter whether they match or not. They usually don’t. I like Dan’s quirks. My
mum obviously doesn’t.

"I was in town today and I saw something and thought of
Dan," she says when she pops (read: a two hour stay) over one evening.

Uh oh. I’m glad Dan is in work, because I am fully expecting
her to say that she saw a hippopotamus or something equally mean.

Instead she produces a Marks and Spencer carrier bag and
hands it to me.

"You must have noticed those hideous socks he wears,
right?"

I nod, peering inside the bag nervously. Inside is a
multipack of plain black socks. "You bought him socks?" I ask.

"Yes, but normal socks. Not those things he wears. They
don’t even match."

"He likes it that way."

"Yes, but aren’t you embarrassed to be seen with
him?"

"No!" I say incredulously. "They’re just
socks."

"But people notice these things."

"No, they don’t, Mum."

"Please, Mackenzie. Why do I have to keep asking you?
It’s Eleanor. The more you use it, the easier it will be to get used to."

"Fine. Eleanor. Dan likes funky socks so you bought him
some plain black ones, I appreciate the thought, but I really don’t think he’ll
want them. You should return them."

"Well, you keep them. When you have to go outside the
house with him you can make sure he puts those on so you won’t be
embarrassed."

"I’m not embarrassed," I say. "Socks are
socks. Nobody walks around the shops looking at what socks other people are
wearing. Except you, maybe."

"You can tell a lot about someone by their socks."

"Mine have holes in them, what does that tell
you?"

"That your toenails are too long and you should cut
them."

I sigh. She’s probably right on that. But I hand the carrier
bag back to her. "I won't be embarrassed by Dan no matter what he has on
his feet. So thank you for the thought, but please return the socks."

"I’m just trying to help you."

"I don’t need your help. I don’t want to try and change
Dan."

"You should do. He’s not very nice as he is."

"That’s not for you to decide," I say angrily.
"I’m happy with him, why isn’t that enough for you?"

"Because he’s not good enough for you."

"He’s perfect for me. I even like the fact that his
socks look like wallpaper from the sixties and never match."

"Huh," Mum says.

"Please return the socks," I say.

"Fine," she huffs. "I will. But don’t come
crying to me when you need the man to look smart. Don’t come to me when people
point and laugh at him in the street."

"No one is going to do that. Except you, maybe."

"Yes, they will. He should take more pride in his
appearance."

"He takes plenty of pride in his appearance. So what if
he likes funny socks? It’s one of his quirks and I love him for it."

"You’ve lowered your standards."

"No, they’re just not the same as your standards. God
help me when I’m finding a date for you if I even have to look at his
socks."

"You have to think about these things."

"Any preference as to what pattern he should have on
the soles of his shoes?"

"No need for sarcasm, young lady."

"Give it a rest," I say. "And forget about
Dan’s socks. Or anyone else’s for that matter. They’re just socks."

"I bought something for you," Mum announces as she
comes in the next night.

"For me?" I ask.

"No, for him."

Dan looks up. "Me? Why?"

"I thought you needed one. And I went to exchange the
socks today, and I thought why not?"

She hands him a carrier bag and Dan opens it nervously.

"Oh," he says, looking at me with a look akin to
horror on his face. "That’s… nice?"

"What is it?"

He lifts it out the bag. I have to work hard to keep from
laughing. It’s a shirt. But it’s not just any shirt. This is a hideous shirt.
This is such a shirt that I have to avert my eyes for a moment for fear of
going blind. The shirt is yellow. With red check squares. And green stripes.
And it’s two sizes too big.

"Do you like it?" Mum asks hopefully.

"Yes," Dan says, suppressing a laugh. "Oh,
yes. It’s lovely."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No," he says. "I do like it. I think it
would make lovely… um…"

I’m thinking wallpaper for a children’s playroom, or bin
bag, or it may even look nice on a scarecrow.

"Mum," I say. "You have to take it back. It’s
two sizes too big."

"Well," she says. "I was trying to be tactful
about it, but I couldn’t help noticing the shirt you had on the other night
looked a little on the snug side. And you have put on a bit of weight recently,
Daniel. You need to adjust your wardrobe accordingly."

"Mum!" I shriek. "You can’t go around saying
things like that."

"Oh, nonsense, dear. It’s just Daniel. And we've talked
about Weight Watchers before, haven't we? Have you phoned them yet?"

"Mum," I say. "Dan hasn’t put on any weight,
so leave him alone. And the shirts he wears are fine."

Dan catches my eye and winks at me. I don’t dare to look at
him for fear of collapsing on the floor in a fit of laughter at the shirt he is
still holding away from him at arms length as if it may be contaminated. In
fact, it might be. It looks radioactive.

"Just take it back," I say to Mum. "Get a
refund and keep your money. To be honest, I don’t think yellow is really Dan’s
colour anyway."

"Fine," Mum says, practically snatching the shirt
and carrier bag out of Dan’s hand. "Fine. I was just trying to be
nice."

Intent on giving Dan a complex more like.

Yes, I really have to find a match for her. And soon.

CHAPTER 9

"Hey, I have a date for
you," Dan calls from the doorway when he gets in from work that night.

"You do?" I ask, coming downstairs.

"Yep."

"Wow," I say, delighted that Dan is getting
involved. I’d kind of assumed I was on my own for this one. "So, tell me
more."

"Do you know Max from the restaurant? The fish
guy?"

"Vaguely." I wave my hand dismissively. "Go
on."

"He says his uncle is free and single. He’s fifty-four
and has been a vet for twenty years."

"A vet? She’ll love that. When can we set it up to meet
him?"

"He came in to see Max today, and he says that he’s
free tomorrow night. I told them you’d be there at seven."

"Oh. Okay."

"What? Did I do the wrong thing?"

"No, it’s just, well, do I really have to screen these
dates? Don’t you think she can choose her own man?"

"You’re the one who said that he has to be
perfect."

"Yeah, and the one guy who I thought was a great match,
and she whines ‘
there’s no chemistry
.’"

"So you’re going to give up because one guy didn’t work
out? That’s not like you."

I shrug. "But he was a good one."

"And obviously not
the
one. Don’t give up yet,
Mac. Vet Guy sounds good."

"I’ll give it a go," I concede. "Besides,
it’s at Belisana. Who am I to turn down free food?"

Dan laughs and hugs me. I’m glad he’s getting involved now.
I didn’t want to have to do this on my own.

"Seriously, Dan, do you think all this blind dating is
a good idea? Don’t you think she’s getting a bit old for that kind of
thing?"

Dan shrugs. "It’s not
exactly
like a blind date,
you know, if you’ve met and vetted the guy first."

"I’ve never even been on a blind date myself," I
admit. "I feel kind of hypocritical setting her up on one. Have you ever
done it?"

"I went on a blind date once. I was so nervous that I
got totally drunk and, of course, didn’t consider myself to be drunk so I
insisted on driving home. She stood on the pavement watching while I got in my
car, put it in reverse instead of forward, crashed into the car behind me, fell
out the door and vomited on the road. The next morning I had a headache from
hell, a smashed up car, and an embarrassing explanation to give to the buddy
that set me up."

"Oh. Well, let’s hope that Eleanor’s don’t turn out
quite like that then."

"That’s him," Dan points out quietly when I
finally make it through Bristol traffic and arrive at the restaurant the
following evening. Belisana is a pretty place. All low lighting and small
tables in a bid to create a sense of intimacy.

Him
is leaning against the open bar—no, actually he’s
slouching
—slouching against the bar, with scraggly brown hair that would
look so much better if he’d just run a comb through it.

I sigh. Men.

"Thanks, Dan," I say, leaning up to kiss him on
the cheek.

I make my way over to the bar.

"Hi," I stick my hand out to Vet Guy. "I’m
Mackenzie."

"Oh, hello," he says, taking my hand. "I’m
Robert. Call me Robbie."

I can see Dan and Max are watching us from just inside the
kitchen door. "Shall we get a table?" I ask, hoping to move out of
their sight line. I don’t need an audience for this.

"Great," he says and motions to Max to come over.

"This is my nephew, Maxie," he says, like we
haven’t already met. "He’s saved the best table for us tonight."

"Thank you," I say to Max. He winks at me. What
does he think he’s doing? Making sure his uncle gets lucky tonight? No chance.
Not with me, and certainly not with my mother if the fact that I’ve just had to
pull my own chair out is anything to go by.

"I’ll have a beer and Mackenzie here will have a white
wine," he tells Max before his nephew leaves.

"Not for me, thanks," I interject. "I’m
driving. Just water, please."

Max nods.

"Don’t worry, I’m not trying to get you drunk or
anything," Robbie says.

I’m tempted to tell him the inevitable "no" right
now and end the date here. No guy who orders a woman’s drink without even
consulting her is getting to date my mother. But I feel bad because it’s Max, a
friend of Dan’s, and I feel that I should at least give the guy half a chance.
But if he tries ordering my dinner for me, it’s over.

"So, you’re a vet?" I ask, conversationally.

"Yeah," he says. "Been slogging away at it
for twenty years now."

"Do you have your own practice?"

"No, I’m just a part of a bigger picture."

Okay, and hello to you, Mr Cryptic.

"So, you must love animals." I prompt.

"Well, I don’t like to see them die, if that’s what you
mean."

If that’s what I mean? What else does he think I mean? And,
really, does anyone like to see animals die? What kind of an answer is that?
Max’s
uncle
, I remind myself.
Dan’s friend
.
Give the guy a chance
.

"Do you have any of your own?"

"No."

No? Is it even possible to be a vet and not have animals?

"Really? Why not?"

"Animals are my work. I don’t want to live with my
job."

I nod like I understand. Okay, so Dan and I don’t have
animals either, but that’s because the landlord doesn't allow them. Plus we see
more than enough of Baby and Pussy.

A waiter comes over with our drinks and hands us a menu
each.

"I hear the steak is very good here," Robbie says,
face hidden behind the menu he’s reading.

"I’m a vegetarian," I say.

"Oh. I get it. One of
them
."

"One of
them
?" I mimic. "One of them
what?"

"I have a hard time trusting people who don’t eat meat.
It’s unnatural."

"You’re a
vet
!" I say, a little too loudly.
"How can you eat the very creatures you spend your day trying to
save?"

"I don’t bring my work home with me."

Arrrrgh. Who does this guy think he is?

Generally, I don't mind whether other people eat meat or not.
It's up to them if they want to eat dead things, but this guy is a
vet
,
for pity’s sake.