Kismetology (15 page)

"So," I say as he studies the menu. "How come
a handsome farmer like you is still single?"

He smiles shyly and looks up at me. Oh my gosh, is he
blushing? He is. Ed the farmer is sitting there blushing at something I said.
How adorable. His cheeks are almost exactly the same colour as the swirls on
his welly boots.

"Aren’t you a sweet thing?" He says.

I briefly wonder if that is the line he uses on his
pot-bellied pigs.

"No," he continues. "I never married. I just
never found the woman that I would want to spend the rest of my life with. I am
still looking, though. As you can see by me being here. I haven’t given up hope
yet."

I secretly think that is quite a sweet thing to say, and I
decide then and there that he will be getting a date with Eleanor. Even I can
overlook atrocious footwear in certain mitigating circumstances.

"Mackenzie," Mum is saying angrily on the phone
two mornings later. Her date with Ed the Farmer was last night, and I can
already tell that it didn’t go well. "Mac, I’m serious," she says.
"Where are you spewing these men up from?"

"What was wrong with this one?" I sigh wearily,
and mentally go over all the things that may have been wrong with him in my
head. Did he turn up in thigh high waders? Come to sweep her off her feet on a
tractor? Did he bring his pet pig along for the date?

"I told you no to men who can’t drive."

"He can drive. He told me that he drove into the city
that afternoon."

"Do you know what he did?" She is getting
increasingly agitated and evidently ignoring my words completely.

"Do you know what he did? He picked me up with his son
driving. His son. His twenty-year-old son was driving, and do you know what he
said? Do you?"

"Um…"

"He said ‘yes, I may have said I have my own car, but I
didn’t say I could drive it.’ Can you believe that?"

"Personally, I’d be more worried about the fact that he
has a twenty-year-old son he failed to mention."

"That’s not the issue, Mackenzie. Who says they own a
car but they don’t know how to drive it? Who?"

"So his twenty-year-old son was driving his dad on a
date. So what? Big deal. Maybe he can drive, he just doesn’t like to in the
city traffic."

"No. He specifically said ‘I own my own car, but I
never said I could drive it.’"

"I don’t see that it matters," I say, hopefully.
Evidently it does matter or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But all my
hopes of Mum moving an hour away are evaporating right in front of my eyeballs
and I’m clutching at straws here.

"Oh but it does matter, Mackenzie. It gets worse. He
hadn’t picked a restaurant. He told me to pick one in the car on the way there,
and my mind went blank, so I said to go to Belisana, and he said ‘oh, I went
there with your daughter.’ Mackenzie! You’re taking my dates to Daniel’s
restaurant? That is so bad. Talk about making a bad impression."

"Excuse me?" I say, angrily. "What is wrong
with Belisana?"

"Your boyfriend," she spits the word out.
"Your boyfriend
works
there."

"If you mean that my boyfriend is head chef there, then
yes, he does work there. And so far no man has ever complained about
anything." I sigh dejectedly. She’s never going to accept Dan.

"So where did you go?" I ask, hoping to get off
the topic of Dan altogether. I don’t want another argument.

"Belisana. And it was horrible."

"No, you didn’t," I say. "Because Dan would have
told me if you’d have been there, and it would not have been horrible."

"No, okay, we didn’t go there. We passed Dine Dee-Vine
on the way, and I told him to go there instead. It’s much nicer."

"You’ve never even been to Belisana."

"I know it’s going to be horrible and crappy there.
They’ve employed your lazy bum boyfriend, their standards can't be that
high."

I decide to take the high road and not react to that.

"Okay," I say, brightly changing the subject.
"So it’s a no for Ed then?" I already know the answer, but I ask
anyway just because it will piss her off to ask.

"Of course it’s a no, Mackenzie. His son had to park on
double yellow lines and wait outside the restaurant for us."

"Well, don’t worry. He’s not the only prospect this
week. There’ll be someone else, I’m sure."

CHAPTER 27

Before the end of the week, I’ve had
another email back from another one of the guys. I’ve arranged to meet Ruben on
Thursday night at the usual venue. This is the "
Youthful but mature fifty
year old, seeks a woman for fun and commitment. Race/age/size/looks unimportant
."
Always a good thing then.

I think that this guy might be promising until I walk in the
door and Holly grabs me by the arm and pulls me aside.

"I don’t mean to worry you," she hisses. "But
he’s been here for an hour, and so far he’s worked his way through two bottles
of wine and a few shots of Jack Daniels."

"How can he have been here for an hour?" I ask.
"I’m only five minutes late."

She shrugs.

I sigh. "You don’t know where I can find a crowd of
normal fifty-something available men, do you?"

"Define normal."

"Oh, you know. One head, two legs. No welly boots and
flies firmly zipped up."

She laughs. "Dan said you were having a bit of
trouble."

"Trouble isn’t the word." I smile at her.
"Anyway, thanks for the warning. I don’t think I’ll even bother to take my
coat off."

"Holler if you need anything," she says, walking
away.

"Ruben?" I say, approaching the table warily.

"Mackenz… oo."

"It’s ie," I say. "Mackenz
ie
. But thanks
anyway."

"Won’t you sit down?" he asks, sliding his chair
back a little uneasily.

"No, I’m good, thanks," I say. I can tell he’s
blind drunk from a mile off. It’s the red face and slightly unbalanced eyes
that do it.

"You’re much younger than in your photo. I thought you
were fifty."

"That’s my mother," I say, wondering why I am
bothering to explain anything.

He suddenly stands up, jumping off the chair so fast that it
clatters to the floor behind him. He throws his arms out to his sides, and
shouts at the top of his voice, "I love you! Mackenzoo, I loooooooove
you!"

I start to back away slowly, and then I turn on my heels and
run away. Far, far away. Well, to the car park where I’ve left my car anyway.
Another day, another failure in finding a suitable man.

Oh well, Perhaps the race/age/size/looks thing is
unimportant because he’s always looking through beer goggles.

"Hey Mackenzoo," Dan says when he gets home that
night.

"Ha ha, very funny," I tell him, unimpressed.

"That’s cool. It’s not everyday we get heartfelt
confessions of love happening in Belisana."

I smack his thigh lightly. "It’s not funny, Dan. In
fact, it’s getting downright ridiculous. Do you realise that the last guy I
considered normal wore Wellington boots to the dinner table?"

Dan laughs.

"I’m serious. I’m just so tired of this dating crap. I
don’t care if Mum sets up camp on our sofa and puts
Emmerdale
on twenty
four hour loop anymore."

"I do," Dan says, looking horrified.

"You’re not the one dating these assholes."

"I had an idea, if you want to hear it," Dan says.

"Yes," I say. "Any ideas are more than
welcome."

"Before she met your dad, did your mother ever have,
like, a high school boyfriend, or a relationship of some kind with a guy who
she’s never gotten over? Did she ever love someone before your dad?"

"I don’t know," I say. "Why?"

"Because maybe we need to go further back. Your dad
couldn't have been her first love, so maybe we should think about who she was
with before him."

"Ah, I see where you’re going. Maybe there’s some spark
of chemistry left over."

"I wasn’t really thinking that, but if you want to then
yeah, sure."

"What’s the point?" I ask. "What are the
chances of Mum’s high school boyfriend still being single?"

"I don’t know, but surely talking to someone she dated
when she was
dating
could be worth a shot? Any insight would be really
helpful."

"I’m beginning to think that nothing will be helpful
here."

"Don’t worry baby, a good pair of steel toed shoes
solves a multitude of problems. Just kick ‘em in the balls if they piss you
off."

I laugh. "Where do you suggest I find her old
boyfriends, Dan?"

"FriendsReunited. Do you know any names?"

"I think there was one guy called Neil, but I’ve no
idea whether she was in love with him or not."

"Well, that’s a start. Just search the name of the
school on FriendsReunited, and hope that this Neil guy is listed. Then you can
email him."

"That sounds like a lot of work," I say. "But
thanks for the idea."

Actually, I’ve just been thinking that I should just shorten
my list of requirements to two things:

- Male.

- Single.

Friday night’s date sounds pretty promising. This is the
"
Heart of gold male, fifty-two. I like watching DVDs, musical theatre,
and long walks in the countryside. I want a lovely lady of a similar age to
share these things with
." That could be worse, right? And really, how
bad can it be? He’d have to have six legs to beat this past week’s dates.

I’m early for once at the restaurant, sitting alone at
"my" table and honestly getting a bit bored of the scenery. This is a
nice place, but I’ve been here almost every night for weeks on end. Yes, I
could easily get the men to take me somewhere else, but I a) don’t want to
offend Dan, and b) feel relatively safe here. I mean, if some guy is going to
try something, I’d rather he try it where my boyfriend is in the kitchen and
the waitresses know me and are keeping an eye on my date for me anyway.

"Hello," he says, hurrying over. "Sorry I’m
late. I’m Liam."

"Mackenzie." I move to stand up but he’s already
sat down. "Hi."

"Nice to meet you. Traffic is a nightmare
tonight."

I nod. "It took me half an hour to get here from
work." And I still made it here on time, I think victoriously.

"So," I say, as he studies the menu. "You
have a heart of gold, huh?"

He laughs. "Was that kind of tragic to put in my
profile? Did you respond out of sympathy?"

I smile. "Nah. I thought my mum could do with meeting
someone gold-hearted."

"Ha ha. You’re funny." He points his finger at me
like a gun and makes a clicking sound. It makes me feel uneasy. "And I’m
kind to animals, small children and homeless people, if that’s what you
mean," he continues.

"Good to know."

"And you’re trying to set your mother up. Now that is
strange."

"Well, I’d rather know who she’s dating. I can’t just
let her meet any old Tom, Dick or Harry. I have to know he’s a nice guy
first."

"That’s good," he says. "At least you know
what she’s getting in to. Or what’s getting into her, eh?" He laughs.

Ugh. Inappropriate jokes? Check. Points? Decreasing rapidly.

"So, your profile says you like watching DVDs and the
theatre. What do you like to watch?"

"Oh, these." He opens his coat up, slides a DVD
out of his inside pocket and hands it to me.

Sluts and Trucks Volume Three
.

Ugh. Porn DVDs? And he keeps one in his jacket pocket? He
loves them so much he has to take them out to dinner with him? Does he have a
portable DVD player in the other pocket so he can nip off to the bathroom for a
quick… Yuck!

I hand the DVD back to him like it’s diseased. Ugh. Dear
god, I hope he hasn’t used it already. And I really hope he washed his hands if
he has.

"Well, that’s very nice," I say, getting up.
"But I don’t think it’s going to work out. Enjoy your meal."

And I leave. I walk outside as fast as I can, round the
corner and go in the side door to the kitchen, where I wash my hands. Twice.

When I check my email that night, I am quite surprised to
find something unexpected in my inbox.

Liam McCain

Mackenzie Atkinson
.

I have a complaint
.

Dear Miss Atkinson.

This is Liam here. I met you earlier tonight for a meal
in Belisana and a potential set up with your mother. I am very insulted by your
treatment of me, and feel that I was unfairly dismissed as a potential date
candidate. You did not take time to get to know me. In fact you asked me one
simple question, and when I answered you left rather abruptly, and the waitress
handed me a rather large bill, which was unusual because I hadn’t yet ordered
anything. I am very offended by this, as I feel I wasn’t given a fair chance to
compete with the other men you have met.

I would be happy if you could explain your actions and
apologise for yourself. At the very least you owe me an explanation.

I was not done with you. I would like to meet your
mother.

Thank you for your time.

Liam.

Who does this guy think he is? And what does he think I am,
a professional business? I’m just a girl, a one woman show. I don’t need finely
crafted letters of complaint.

I decide to play him at his own game and send a reply. I type
out my message:

Mackenzie Atkinson

Liam McCain

RE: I have a complaint
.

Dude, you had a porn DVD stuffed down your jacket.
Neither my mother nor I are remotely interested in men who love porn so much
that they bring it to dinner with them. If you would like a date with any
woman, I strongly advise you to leave Sluts and Trucks at home.