Perfect Pairing
Coffee Break Tale
Every old sock finds an old shoe, Daisy,” my mother said. Her version of “there’s someone for everyone”, I suppose. Doesn’t sound terribly appealing, though – even if the shoe’s an old Manolo Blahnik.
Romance hadn’t been a big success story for me. Every time I thought I might have found The One, I was mistaken. I’d pour my whole being into it and then, wham! They wouldn’t bother to wake me up before they’d go-go.
And eventually I gave up, because everyone knows the more needy you act, the more the universe chortles.
So when I met Christy, I was pretty jaded about the very idea of romance. Yes, my little heart was flitter-fluttering every time he winked at me, but I didn’t intend him to know that, not yet.
As it happened though, I was just about ready to drop the take-you-or-leave-you act when the inevitable happened: Christy and his heart-melting brogue fled back home across the sea, so they did.
“Sure, I’ll see you soon,” he’d said, his Irish eyes smiling sadly. That had been two months ago. I felt pretty sure that he’d found some green-eyed, freckled colleen to twinkle at by now.
Anyway, I gave up on love and concentrated on helping my friend organise her wedding. Every so often my mother would ask if I’d heard from Christy and I’d say no, and then she’d say how she’d always had a soft spot for him.
I half-expected her to jump on the ferry and join him in the Emerald Isle, she seemed such a fan. She kept telling me not to lose heart – she was sure he’d be back.
I kept myself busy helping Fran. I was chief bridesmaid and organised the flowers, the hen-do and the transport.
Mum was pretty involved too. You’ll have worked out she was quite central to my life. A bit further towards the periphery would suit me but that’s mothers for you.
Fran was a beautiful bride and we had a lovely day, Mum and I, but the end of the evening party found me sad and wondering what the rest of my life held. Arranging the wedding I was busy and distracted, but now what would I do?
Then suddenly, there he was: Christy! Walking into the fast emptying venue like he’d just popped out for a breath of air. And with a big, sheepish smile on his face. “Hey, Daisy. You’re looking great.” That was blarney for a start. I knew mascara had mingled with my tears and my hair was all flat from resting my head on the table. Anyway, what did I care whether he thought I looked attractive? I was only an overlooked item of hosiery. “Your mammy said you’d be in here.” Right on cue, she came and stood to the side of us, ready for the show.
“Where’ve you been?” I asked him, sounding pathetic.
He spoke softly. “Well, y’know, you didn’t seem too keen and I wasn’t after having my heart broke, so I decided I’d break away while I still could. But then I realised breaking away means more than just moving to another place. I still thought about you all the time.”
It turned out he’d kept in touch with my mother. “She said she knows what you’re like,” he said darkly. “Not good at showing your feelings.” Mum was studying the ceiling. I said something about what I’d do to him if he pulled another stunt like that, about people usually managing to sort things out without hightailing it out of the country and about how just being honest with me would’ve been good. I may have gone on a bit.
“We’re a pair of eejits. How about we give it another go? I missed you.” He took my hand. “I mean, I really missed you.”
Like a fool, I got a sudden, severe case of the warm and fuzzies, and found myself nodding. “I missed you too,” I whispered, my own first attempt at being honest.
“Oh, you’re going to be his old sock, Daisy!” My mother’s joy was complete. “And you make such a lovely pair.”