Waving Joey off on holiday with his fully-functioning parent?
I had better not be. I’d better not be blubbing like I was now, either.
42
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day One Hundred and Seven
The Saturday before Christmas was another challenge day. Nathan’s turn this time, following my successful conquest of the party. Joey was spending the weekend with Ben, and I had assembled all the required components of the challenge. Nathan was not happy.
‘This is a complete waste of a day.’
‘How can doing something fun and relaxing be a waste?’
‘It’s not… achieving anything. It’s totally unproductive. I thought you were going to take me to the Christmas market or something.’ Nathan tugged at his hair in distress.
‘Wrong! It’s producing happiness and achieving relaxation instead of seasonal stress. Spending a day enjoying yourself has to be the least possible waste of time. How often do you get to completely chill out for a whole day?’
‘This isn’t relaxing for me. It’s gross. Chilling out is hiking in the Lakes or kayaking down a river.’
‘Organising a nutritional spreadsheet? Creating an ultra-marathon training programme? Lining up your running shoes in order of tread-wear?’ I raised my eyebrows.
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing, if you can balance it with occasionally letting things go, being spontaneous and indulgent once in a while, too. If you don’t find relaxation relaxing, then you need more practice. Here.’ I handed him a pair of men’s pyjamas. ‘Get these on, and the challenge will commence.’
It may have been a little mean, going for stripy, gentlemen’s nightwear, but I figured Nathan probably wore a lot of jogging bottoms and T-shirts at home, and I wanted him to feel as out of his comfort zone as I had in Dani’s jumpsuit. And besides, the look worked, he looked dangerously cute and ruffled, slouched on one end of the sofa, arms crossed and brow tense.
‘Help yourself to snacks,’ I said, handing him a plate, my own ‘pyjama day’ wear consisting of a pair of checked lounge pants, fleecy hoodie and fur-lined slipper boots.
‘Thanks.’ Nathan took the plate, put it on the coffee table, then glanced at me standing there, hands on my hips. He sighed, picked up a fistful of salted caramel popcorn and dumped it on the plate. I cleared my throat, waiting until he’d added a square of brownie and a couple of crisps before loading up my own plate and taking a seat on the other end of the sofa.
‘Now, prepare to embrace a whole different type of marathon.’
I clicked play.
* * *
‘Have you ever been married?’ I asked, as the final credits rolled for the first film.
Nathan glanced at me before looking back at the screen. ‘No.’
‘But?’
‘But what?’ He picked up a chocolate truffle and ate it, confirming the definite existence of a ‘but’.
‘You tell me. Or don’t, if you’d rather not. You do kind of know all my embarrassing secrets, though.’
He sighed, brushing at the crumbs sprinkled on his pyjama top. ‘I was engaged for a few months.’
‘I’m guessing from the look on your face that she ended it.’
‘Yes. But it was the right thing to do. Didn’t stop me feeling like a complete failure, though.’
I pulled a cushion onto my lap, waiting to see if he wanted to share more.
‘The woman I told you about, Gill, who was attacked?’
