The Mix-Up by Holly McCulloch
CHAPTER 9
After another unsuccessful day of work and an early-morning yoga session – that I hoped would help my mental stagnation – I’m on my way to the monthly wedding suppliers’ breakfast. I can’t help but feel as though I should have put on my full body armour. If I hadn’t already paid for my hash browns, I would skip it. The last thing I need is to be in a room surrounded by happy over-achievers. It doesn’t help that the majority of people attending genuinely love weddings. Luckily, I know of one person, Bobbie, whose thoughts on marriage are similar to mine. We only ever go to these things when we know the other one will be around. Safety in numbers and all that. I messaged her last week and guilt-tripped her into coming.
As I near the restaurant I fortify my sense of self. There is always a faux-friendly competition at these things. It’s sold as a community, and sometimes it feels that way, but more often than not it feels like a series of battles, all fought via the medium of boasting and bragging. Once I even saw someone pat himself on the back. I imagine he was joking, but only half.
The whole group looks impenetrable, like they have been talking for hours and somehow I got the time wrong. From a distance I can see a couple of people I don’t mind hanging out with, and a whole bunch more that I will actively avoid. One in particular, Louise, is the human equivalent of a headache. She’s very intense, and not in a good way. The issue with Louise is that she is also a baker, and so I know our paths will eventually cross. She is the only other one of our kind in attendance, which is not at all unusual, as bakers are solitary souls. But unlike me, she is known for her doughnuts. She used to make more traditional cakes but has since moved on. In comparison to most wedding cakes, mine are quite modern, but her doughnuts are very, very on-trend, and she knows it. When she moved over to making doughnuts, she also bought a whole new wardrobe. A wardrobe full of vintage finds and statement pieces from France. What’s worse is that her doughnuts are undeniably delicious. High-maintenance from a baking and storage perspective, but delicious. And if you eat the ones with holes in, you can fool yourself into thinking you have eaten less than you actually have.
I dump my bag in the corner, smiling at people as I meander through, careful to give Louise a wide berth. Instead I search for my safe haven, Bobbie. She is a graphic designer turned card maker and, like me, her involvement in the wedding scene is a little ironic, as neither of us are enamoured with the idea of marriage and romance. She is quite diddy as humans go and can hide in the smallest of nooks. Luckily, she’s also the only person I know who can pull off a scrunchied top knot in real life, which is helpful, as it gives her some much needed height. Eventually, I spot her and her scrunchie in the corner of the room.
‘Bobbie!’ I wave so she can see me. She looks up almost immediately. When I get to her, I’m relieved to reach safety. She’s always brutally honest and is a very refreshing person to hang out with, especially in this crowd full of people who are only nice to you if you fit in and have something to give them back.
She turns away from the group she is talking to and, by the time I reach her, looks almost angry. ‘You’re late. I’ve had to make small talk. You know I hate small talk. I had to pretend to be interested in someone’s back issues. I don’t want to fucking hear about your experience with cupping.’ Luckily, the group misses her scathing round-up and continues chatting. Her body language eases a bit as she moves further away from the group. ‘Anyway, I can probably get over your tardiness. How are you? It’s been a while.’
And it has – at least three months – but I don’t feel like anything has changed in my life since I last saw her. This is also why I often avoid these things. They are meant to help you with various aspects of your business, but often I find that they stress me out more. There is so much pressure to get going on all the things I haven’t achieved. And because it’s always the biggest braggers who dominate the conversation, the gap between their supposed achievements and mine is huge.
Why am I here?
Luckily, at this very moment I catch a waft of fried potato coming from the kitchen. Soothed by the thought of carbs, I answer Bobbie’s question.
‘I’m good.’ I pause to think of anything exciting that has happened recently. The thought of Noah briefly crosses my mind, followed swiftly by an image of Chris. I don’t see the point of talking about either. ‘Things are exactly the same as they were when I last saw you. What about you? Anything new?’
She looks into the distance, as though she also needs to remember what her recent life has looked like. ‘Nope. Everything’s basically the same with me too. Started dating a German guy whose mum sends him homemade decorations for his house.’ I make a quizzical face. ‘I’ve also stopped dating him.’ She shrugs. ‘Apart from that … regretting my life choices? So, nothing new there either I guess.’ She is a pint-sized person, but she is full of sass. ‘I’m drinking. Are you?’
I shouldn’t. It’s a Thursday. It’s also 10.30 a.m.
‘Sure.’ I order a Bloody Mary from the first helpful person I see, immediately half regretting but accepting my decision. I turn my attention back to Bobbie.
‘Look at them all.’ I do. She seems extra sassy today and I don’t know why, but I do know she is about to tell me. She’s never been one to hide her true thoughts from me, or anyone, but she knows I won’t judge her.
I’m relieved when my Bloody Mary comes in record time. I have a feeling I will need it, both for the vodka and for the garnish. I am so hungry, and the best thing about a Bloody is the skewers. This one does not disappoint. There is even some cheese on there. And a piece of spicy sausage.
‘It makes me so angry.’ Bobbie’s voice is laced with emotion.
I try to see what she sees. But I’m looking around and although I don’t want to be here, I wouldn’t say anger is my go-to emotion. ‘What does?’
I am fairly confident that Bobbie and I are friends, but the look she gives me is withering. I should already know what she is about to say. But I don’t, so I cower. I hadn’t thought I needed to fortify myself against her. ‘All these people. They can only do the work they do because of their husbands. It’s infuriating.’ She takes an angry sip. ‘To them it doesn’t matter if they lose money one month, or even twelve months of the year. They have someone bankrolling them, so they can afford to undercut all of our prices and not give a toss. They are diluting the industry. They are driving us all to ruin.’ I look around as she takes a breather. And another sip. ‘Women should support women, not undermine themselves and each other by cutting prices and not putting a fair value on our work.’ She exhales. ‘And these fucking paper straws. I’m all for saving the planet, but this is just a soggy mess. Why give me a straw at all if it’s not fit for purpose.’ At this she ignores the straw and downs the rest of her drink.
What she is saying does have a ring of truth to it, but, to be fair, there is one man here, and at least two lesbians present. However, I don’t think now is the time to mention this to Bobbie. Also, one man and two lesbians don’t exactly negate her argument, and even if they did, I don’t think she’d be placated. As bad luck would have it, as I look around, my eyes accidentally, but unavoidably, lock on to the steely eyes of Louise. The people pleaser in me smiles at her. I hate myself for it, but I can’t deny such a core part of my personality.
I know she doesn’t like me, but she has to come over. Just like me, she can’t deny herself. Unlike me, she is not a people pleaser – if she were, she would stay exactly where she is. But she cannot help herself. She has to brag.
‘Already on it, I see.’ She looks pointedly at my drink and Bobbie’s empty glass. ‘I wish I could have one, but I have so much to do this afternoon. And every task is an important one. They asked me to speak today – to share how I plan my workload and manage to get so many things done, but I just had to turn them down. I feel awful about it, but I think I actually need to leave early to get all my work finished before my husband comes home. He’s such a sweetheart.’ She shifts as someone nudges her gently on their way past. They apologize, but she just glares at them. ‘Our evening time is so important for the health of our marriage, especially now that our house renovations are all complete.’ I try to count them, but I can’t keep up with all the brags.
I can see Bobbie switch off at my side. Louise is exactly the kind of person she hates. ‘Oh, that is a shame.’ As soon as the words come out, I worry that the vodka has already gone to my head. My tone was more sarcastic than I meant it to be. At least I’ve succeeded in ignoring her barbed comments. ‘But you should get a drink. They’re just so delicious. I couldn’t help myself.’
‘Oh gosh, yes, they look it, but I’m trying to lose weight. I’ve been recipe testing so much that my jeans don’t fit any more.’
Each to their own, but she looks fine to me.
I take this opportunity to try the sausage. And I am not disappointed. It is delicious.
Louise’s eyes follow the food. She practically licks her lips as I chew. It’s really off-putting and yet I can’t help but derive a little bit of joy from the fact I have something she doesn’t. Something she wants.
‘Is it worth it?’ I ask, after swallowing and making a little ‘mmm’ noise.
She looks at me like she’s just woken from a trance. ‘Is what worth it?’
‘The recipe testing?’
‘Oh yes.’ Her eyes are now lingering on the cheese. ‘I came up with some really great, very innovative flavours.’
‘Oh really?’ I ask in a way that suggests I want to know more, even though I would rather stab myself in the eye with my now sausageless skewer.
‘I think the hazelnut and chocolate will be a real winner.’
I don’t say anything in response. I just incline my head as though this is interesting. The silence is eventually broken by an unimpressed-looking Bobbie.
‘Isn’t that just Nutella?’
When Louise finally notices the dig, she fumbles around with her silk scarf, searching for somewhere else to be. I feel a bit bad that Bobbie’s comment was so brusque; it’s exactly the kind that will cut to the core of a baker. ‘Oh look.’ Louise nods towards the door. ‘The food is coming out. We better go sit down.’ She scurries across to the other side of the room, as far away as possible from me and, more likely, the travel-sized weapon that is Bobbie. God love her. My own words will only take me so far.
Just as we are sitting down, Mika enters the room. Despite the fact that there is a lot going on, everyone notices her arrival. Nobody goes so far as to stop talking entirely, but they falter. She is one of those people that everyone notices, knows and seems to like. Or at least everyone wants her to like them.
When she chooses to sit next to me, giving me a quick hug hello, I immediately feel my star increase in brightness. People who didn’t acknowledge my existence before are now nodding in my direction. If this isn’t proof that she will have a positive effect on my business I don’t know what is.
‘Sorry I’m late.’ She says this to the room, and the whole room, despite pretending to be otherwise engaged, erupts with replies about just how fine it is. Mika seems totally oblivious to the effect she has and turns to me, not realizing that everyone is still hanging off her every word, just in case they are required. ‘I think I ordered a full English, did you?’
‘Yes, but without the eggs.’ At this point, people start to turn away. I’m not interesting.
‘Why no eggs? They are such a good source of protein.’
‘I know, but I always get a bit confused when people serve me eggs that aren’t inside a cake.’ I can’t help but make a face.
Our breakfasts come, and I am disappointed to see that there is only one hash brown and the baked beans appear to be homemade. I had hoped the lack of egg would come with an increased serving of carbs. But my disappointment doesn’t last long. Any food that I don’t have to cook myself, and more importantly clean up after, is a win for me.
‘So …’ Mika is wearing a white top today. White is not a colour I can eat in. ‘How did your night end on Friday?’ Had I been in any doubt about what night she was talking about, the wiggle of her eyebrows would have cleared it up.
Even Bobbie stops glowering to listen.
I try to keep my voice light and nonchalant. ‘Actually, really well. You were right. He was a great distraction.’ My accompanying smile is almost a little shy.
‘I told you.’ Mika looks pleased with herself.
I can feel Bobbie careening next to me, her face visible in my periphery, despite the fact I am trying to ignore her. ‘What is this? Why didn’t you tell me that you have actual gossip?’
I shrug and half turn to face her, unable to meet her eye. ‘It didn’t come up.’
Bobbie’s face is incredulous. ‘What do you mean it didn’t come up? I asked you how you were. This is exactly the kind of information I care about.’
Mika just smiles. ‘Well, what happened?’
I decide to placate Bobbie first, giving myself a little more time to decide how to respond to Mika’s probe. ‘Well, Mika set me up with someone, and we … enjoyed each other’s company.’ I hush my voice. I am not a prude, but I don’t fancy talking about my sex life with the whole room.
Bobbie leans over me further to ask Mika a question. ‘Was this at your party?’
Mika nods, mouth still full. White shirt still spotless.
Bobbie sits back in her seat. Her face turns downwards. ‘I knew I should have gone. Sometimes I hate being anti-social.’ With that, Bobbie starts stabbing her scrambled eggs.
‘I think we’re going to see each other again.’
Mika looks at me. Fuck. Why did I say anything?
Because I can’t get him out of my head, and I want to talk about him to anyone who will listen and who can empathize with me.
‘Really?’
I downplay it. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not getting attached. And neither is he.’
‘It’s really best if you don’t. I know he is charming and attentive, but he’s a pro at what he does. And what he does is ditch.’
‘I promise I’m not.’ Really.
‘Well, good. I’m just looking out for you. Of course, maybe you could be the one to nab him.’ She tweaks her eyebrows at me.
I smile, and reply in a sarcastic tone, ‘Sure.’
‘Do you want me to do some digging for you? Find out where his head is at?’ Mika looks at me, and I know that she’s one of those girls who could track down the guy you kissed at that random bar three years ago and don’t know the name of. All you know is that he smelled like Lynx Africa and had a tribal tattoo on his neck.
Yes! ‘No. God no.’ She looks at me, non-verbally asking me if I’m sure. ‘Please don’t, because if you do, then he might get the wrong idea, and that would be bad no matter the outcome.’
‘OK.’ She prepares her next mouthful before whispering, ‘But let me know if you change your mind.’
I just nod.
‘Anyway, how are the cake designs coming on?’
I’m glad that Mika has changed the subject, but I’m even more glad that I decided to take a bigger than normal bite, giving me some much-needed time to think of a response, all the while pretending I’m just chewing, and double pretending to chew as quickly as possible.
Sadly, I do eventually have to swallow and answer.
‘Great!’ I still haven’t done them. Every time I try to think up a cake, all I can see is Chris’s face, and until I can rid my mind of this, I can’t seem to do anything else. The issue is, I worry that a part of my mind wants to think about Chris’s face, and this is maybe the most disturbing fact of all. We broke up a long time ago, and many things have happened since then, but with his cake, comes his face, and all the rosy memories and lost dreams and changed stars. Basically, a whole bunch of feelings I typically ignore.
‘Super! And I have one more for you.’ She turns to me in a conspiratorial way. ‘It’s a big one. And a fun one. And I would love to work with you on it, but’ – at this she touches my arm – ‘only if you have time of course.’
I would never turn down work from Mika. It isn’t something anyone does. ‘I have time. Send me the details. Or we can meet up for coffee to discuss it?’
‘Brilliant. Let’s do both.’ She squeezes the arm that she is still touching and gives me a big smile. ‘This is going to be great.’
I smile.
Hopefully it hides the dread that is encroaching.