“Enough chitchat,” Evan cuts in. “Show us what you’ve brought.”
“Chicken, potatoes, vegetables,” he lists, emptying out the boxes onto the countertop. “It’s all ready – just needs to be heated up.”
“I’ll put it in the microwave,” Even says, enthusiastically grabbing the Tupperware, while I drop down onto one of the stools and pour myself that glass of wine.
“Tough night?” asks Martin, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and sitting down next to me. He pours himself some wine too, and we wordlessly clink our glasses.
“What about you? How come you’re over here on a Saturday night with a pre-cooked dinner?” I ask, lowering my voice.
“Please, not now,” he says, not looking at me. “Let’s just enjoy this evening.”
I nod obligingly, before jumping off the stool to get plates and cutlery. “Shall we eat in front of the TV? We were just about to put on a film.”
“Which film?”
“27 Dresses.”
“I love that film.”
I smile – I already knew that. I set up the living room table, ready to be joined by the only men in my life for a ‘family’ evening in.
* * *
After the film is finished,and we’ve chatted like the loveably disastrous family we are, Evan goes up to his room as Martin and I share some chocolate ice cream and whipped cream, eaten straight from the tub.
“So?” I ask him, licking the spoon fervently.
“Could you maybe not do those…gestures?”
“You mean, like this?” I point to the spoon. “I didn’t think I had that effect on you anymore,” I say, winding him up.
Martin shakes his head, laughing quietly. He takes a deep breath, and the truth comes tumbling out.
“We broke up,” he says, looking at me. “He left me.”
I knew his coming over would have some sort of repercussion for me.
“What did you do this time?”
“Me? Oh no, this time I’m innocent. He met someone else.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah…someone whose pager doesn’t go off in the middle of the night. Someone who doesn’t work on bank holidays or cancel dinner plans for his fucking job.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Actually, that’s exactly how it is.”
“I’m sorry, Martin,” I tell him, sincerely, squeezing his arm.
“I tried to make it work, but you know what I’m like. I thought I’d found the right person, but apparently I was wrong.”
He lets his head drop onto my shoulder.
“I needed my family.”
“We’re here for you,” I say, stroking his face. I can feel him relax under my touch.
