If only they knew the truth regarding the latter.
“I’m guessing online dating hasn’t been easy for you?”
“Yeah, it’s been … interesting,” he says.
Neither of us say it, but we’re both thinking about me now. Dating as a Black woman.
“I can imagine,” I finally say.
He nods. “Even so, I still have to ask, is me being bi a problem for you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, I don’t think it is.”
* * *
After almost two hours, we leave the coffee shop and stop outside my station.
Alex asks, “Is it all right if I kiss you?”
It’s a soft kiss that makes my stomach pleasantly churn. We say goodbye and I smile all the way to the supermarket. Then I remember that I don’t actually have a barbecue to go to and head back to the flat.
Chapter Thirty
Mum LONDON
Maddie how is your fathers eulogy coming?
I sigh and flop back onto my bed.
I’ve been avoiding having to write this tribute, but I’m running out of time.
I love my dad and spent most of my time with him, so I expected the words to pour out of me, to effortlessly flow, but my notebook is still blank. This is an impossible thing to put into words. To some, it will look like we didn’t have much of a relationship, even at the end. What is a relationship if there’s hardly any conversation; if I don’t know what he’s thinking and he doesn’t understand what I’m saying? The thought that Dawoud might find writing this easier than I do stings a little.
Google: How do you write a eulogy for your dad?
How to Write Your Dad’s Eulogy It’s never easy at the beginning, but you want to start off by brainstorming. Put your dad’s name in the middle of the page and around it, write down treasured memories and anecdotes. You’ll find words start to flow after that. Essentially, you want to tell the audience about him. Was he funny? Did he have any dad jokes? What were his hobbies?
I shake my head. “No, this isn’t my dad,” I tell my phone. “Anecdotes, jokes, hobbies? Dad was different. He was complicated.” I shake my head again. “You wouldn’t understand.”
A Father’s Eulogy from a Daughter At the end of the day, a eulogy is all about memories. Daughters tend to be more “Daddy’s girl” than “Mummy’s girl” so you just have to talk about him: the times you shared together and the things he did to make you smile. Why are you a “Daddy’s girl”？
The words “Daddy’s girl” make me cringe.
What did he do to make me smile?
Whenever my dad came home with a chocolate bar for me, I No, a singular chocolate bar isn’t impressive if other dads are buying their daughters cars.
But the chocolate bars meant a lot to me. Other people just won’t get why.
My dad was the light of my life Then why did you leave?
My dad grew up as one of four siblings And now there’re only two left.
My dad enjoyed watching TV and Before my father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, he liked to He spent most of his time He used to be a librarian I rub the bridge of my nose.
I’ll try again tomorrow.
Chapter Thirty-one
I’m returning to the office today after two weeks away. Already I’m looking forward to getting home this evening and telling myself I’ll never have a first day back at the office after my dad died, again.
My hands shake as I button my cardigan and the heat I’ve come to know so well creeps up my throat.
When Jo is gone, I have ten minutes of silence, in which I use the toilet twice. I stand facing the front door. “Please, God,” I whisper. “Just let me get through the day.”
Like always, I hear no answer and will have to wait to find out whether He’s heard me.
Mum LONDON
God is with you Maame. Have a good day and call me if work is too much
It strikes me that my mother would not be who I called in the event of a bad day because, chances are, I’d end up feeling worse or, at the very least, dramatic and ungrateful. But perhaps I shouldn’t assume. Everyone has the element of surprise within them.
* * *
The train ride isn’t long enough and my heart beats hard and fast at the looming sight of the OTP building. I enter with my key fob alongside Tina in Sales. We know of each other; she says hello and I parrot a reply, then she turns the corner to her department.
I’m relatively early, so not many people are in yet.
Kathy says, “Hi, Maddie, how are you?”
I smile and pretend not to notice the head tilt and answer a quiet, “Fine, thank you.”
Thea, who’s sitting beside her, nods and smiles, and I take that as two birds with one stone.
I walk to my desk, exhaling. If that is what I can expect, maybe—
Kris opens her door. “Maddie! Welcome back! Come in a sec.”
The conversation is less painful than I feared and in a sentence, I’m free to go home at any time if things feel too overwhelming.
The only thing I want today is no attention, and it comes at me from everyone. My palms are soon dented with half-moons and the inside of my bottom lip is bleeding. I’ve used the toilet six times and it’s only past lunch, which I haven’t eaten. Instead I forget my container in the fridge and leave the building.
* * *
When I’m back, Penny invites me into her office to repeat what Kris said. I nod and smile convincingly.
For the rest of the afternoon, I barely use my voice because I don’t want to invite conversation. I just want to exist. I keep my head down and work.
At the end of the day, my to-do list looks like this:
Check prelims and end matter of HVT
Reschedule TR meeting
Change pub date for RPS and add royalties
Email David about contracts
Anglicize text for DF
Organize review copies to be sent out
Draft letter for above
Unanswered emails
Add Hungry to MDX
Type out pre-order pack notes
Penny’s expenses
Find missing ?5.72 receipt
Invoices x3
Excel spreadsheet of MTS editorial and design costs
Public enquiries
Add amends to publishing schedule then upload on database
Order milk jug for the office
Send out foreign rights deals for approval
I write down my to-do list for tomorrow so I can keep busy, same as today. Then I look up and realize I’m the last person in the office.
I shut down my computer, pack my bag, and slip on my jacket. I remain seated, staring at the quiet office. The only noise is the hum of the dishwasher—not sure who turned it on as the task typically falls to me. Well, it could have been me.
Am I hungry at all? I could probably go without dinner.
I turn off the office lights and go home.
Chapter Thirty-two
Alex
How do you feel about bowling tonight?
Maddie
On a school night? Sounds like a second date.
It turns out I’m rather skilled at bowling. It wouldn’t have been my preferred hidden talent of choice, but right now, it’s serving me well.
“How was the barbecue?” Alex asks.
“Barbecue?” Yes, your fake weekend plans. “Oh, right, it was great.” I recall what I overheard Jo saying to Cam. “Dad burnt more than he should have but called it caramelized. Classic.”