That had never been a part of our bargain.
I thought back to the party we’d gone to for our first date. It was a fashion thing, aboard a cruise that paddled along the harbor while everyone got completely hammered. I remembered being introduced to Taya and being pleasantly surprised to see how good-looking she was. A stunner. My mother had mentioned that she was a beauty, but that didn’t necessarily mean I would agree with her. Taya was tall and curvaceous, with sexy hips and a pair of surgically enhanced breasts. Her golden blonde hair fell almost to her hips and with those slanted eyes, she had an almost aristocratic appearance.
“Call me Taya,” was the first thing she said to me. “Everyone else does.”
We got on right away, the conversation flowed and there was no need to fill the silences. When I mentioned our parents being keen on us getting together, she’d rolled her eyes. “Ticking their boxes, you know?”
Then she said, “I have no problem with that though, us seeing each other, making it formal?”
“Oh?”
“I feel I should point something out, though,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m what you might call asexual. Not really interested in sex. Obviously, you may be, and I don’t mind you getting your kicks elsewhere, as long as you are discreet.”
I was rather disappointed. I’d rather looked forward to seeing what Taya looked like underneath the make-up and the fake tan and body sculpting underwear. I would too, in due course, get to see it all. Taya didn’t mind me spending the night occasionally, but there was no sex. She was serious about that. Not with me, anyway. But that I would only find out about later. Taya viewed her body like an instrument of a vehicle. It had to be maintained and looked after, a little like a car, which got you to places, and made life easier.
But marry her?
I didn’t think she wanted to marry me any more than I wanted to marry her.
But I wondered if she would do it if there was enough pressure from her parents. I tried to imagine a life with her and couldn’t. I knew she couldn’t help it, that Taya was a product of her environment and upbringing, but the result was a lifelike mannequin who had no spark of life in her. No spontaneity, no joy or pleasure. Taya looked perpetually bored, unimpressed with everything and everyone around her.
I thought of Lauren and the way she had laughed when I reminded her of the pizza we used to eat in college. She’d thrown back her head and given a rolling, deep laugh.
For a few moments, I was lost in thoughts of Lauren and an awareness that when I was around her, I felt unlike I did with anyone else. I found her funny, and I wanted to hear what she said next, her views were interesting. I liked the way she was responding to my insane work requests, taking it all in her stride. I could see Diaz was thrown by it, worried that I might somehow be questioning his management style or results, but it was all about Lauren.
I knew I had to speak to Taya and warn her about what our parents were up to. I wondered if they had spoken to her and how she had reacted. We needed to have a plan on how to cope with it. I was sure that Taya would feel the way I did. I couldn’t imagine Taya with babies and diaper bags. Surely, it would be the last thing that she wanted.
Because marrying Taya was absolutely the last thing that I wanted.
Chapter 7
Lauren
After work one day, I got a text from a friend.
R U going to the gig at Lulu’s tonight?
I had no idea what she was talking about. Dax and I were still not speaking after our row the other night and I’d been keeping myself busy with work. But after a long day of staring at websites and product pages, reading people’s comments and trying to come up with winning ideas, I was ready to let my hair down and relax. Going out sounded good and Dax and I needed to talk anyway.
Yeah, meet u there?
I got a thumbs-up on the text and felt my mood lift. I was looking forward to going out and forgetting about Matthew and my unbelievable work schedule.
When I got home, the music was playing loudly, and my mom was in her room. There were clothes all over her bed and her wardrobe doors were wide open.
“I’ve got nothing to wear!” she exclaimed, pointing at the clothes strewn around her. Her hair was wet, and she had a towel wrapped around her body.
“Going on a date?” I guessed with a smile.
My mom rolled her eyes. “Let’s just call it dinner.”
“Who’s the guy?”
She looked at me with a smile. “He’s just… this …guy. You know…” she said, not wanting to talk about it. I knew my mom well enough to know that she liked him too much to jinx the date by talking about it. It had been a while since there had been someone in her life. Since she broke up with her last proper boyfriend almost two years ago, she’d barely been out.
My mom was still an attractive woman. She was still young, 45, and she looked good, having watched her figure. She still wore her hair long and dyed the gray out and I thought she could pass for a woman in her thirties any day. She’d never struggled to attract attention, but she quickly grew bored or annoyed with the men in her life. She felt they became controlling or demanding. She was free-spirited and independent and liked her own space. I had liked her last real boyfriend, a vintage car salesman called Hank. He wanted the two of them to move in together into their own place, build their own life. He was divorced with two grown children. My mother liked him, but I could see her becoming antsy at the talk of looking for a flat for the two of them, discussing building features and the advantages of certain neighborhoods over others. She felt he was moving too fast. After all these years of being on her own, I wasn’t sure that she could commit to anyone else.
“Are you going out tonight?” she asked.