“Who’s this?” I ask pointing to the photo, being careful not to leave a smudge on the glass with my finger.
“That’s my brother, Marcus”
“Carlos and Marcus?” I asked amused.
“Yes my parents have limited imaginations.” He laughs back.
“How come you haven’t mentioned him before?”
“He lives in America, I don’t see much of him, guess it just never came up in conversation?” he is dismissive about it so I let it go, following him through the open French doors onto the veranda.
His parents are sat at the outdoor, glass table facing us.
“Kaitlin! Don’t you scrub up well, I barely recognised you with clothes on!” his dad chirps the second I step out, his mum swiftly elbows him in the ribs.
“Dad!” Carlos warns.
“Oh come on, she knows I’m only joking, don’t you Kaitlin?” by now my face is burning and my mouth dry, what can I say to that? I force a smile and nod staring at my feet because I can’t bare to make eye contact with them.
“Oh Tom, leave the poor girl alone.” Carlos’s mum glares at him, before turning to me, “Kaitlin, my name is Clara, it’s lovely to meet you, would you like a drink?”
“Yes, please” the yes comes out a little too strongly, but who can blame me. With a click of her fingers a girl appears with a tray already equipped with two glasses of Rosé for me and Carlos, oh how the other half live.
Carlos sits down opposite his Dad, distracting him with business talk, what functions are planned and possible ideas for new classes they could provide; while Carla sits in front of me, spinning the usual polite conversation, where am I from, what do I do, how did me and Carlos meet.
I explain to her that I work for an advertising company in Devon, the money is average, but there is opportunity for good commission, it’s all innocent enough, but I can’t shake the feeling that every word I say is being judged; it’s like an interview, I’m half expecting her to ask what my intentions with Carlos are, and where I see the two of us in five years.
When I explain meeting Carlos I gush about what a gentleman he was returning my sandals and how wonderful it was for him to have made the effort to do it; it’s a sure fire way to win round a mother, by complimenting the chivalry of their son. It works a dream and by the time we are onto our main course we are thick as thieves, swapping old recipe secrets and planning future shopping trips together.
Carlos is visibly un-nerved, periodically shooting us both questioning looks, to which neither of us respond, too busy chattering away with each other.
Over desert, Carla speaks to Carlos “Oh I forgot to mention, Marcus is coming down for a week on Thursday, I thought it would be nice if he stayed with you”
For a moment Carlos’s face falls and his eyes darken at her words, but he quickly regains his smile, “Of course” he says sweetly, although I can’t help feeling his acceptance tinged with distaste.
We leave shortly after, Carlos refused coffee for the both of us and made excuses for our departure; Clara and Tom both agreeing how lovely it was to meet me and insisting we do dinner again soon. Surprisingly I’m not in the slightest way repelled by the idea, having bonded so quickly with Clara.
On the walk back Carlos is silent and brooding, “What’s up sour puss?” I try and coax out the reason for his sudden grim mood.
“Nothing” he sulks.
“There’s clearly something wrong”
“No I’m fine, just tired, it’s been a long day” he says, plastering on his best fake smile. I’m plagued by the image of the nagging wife I so desperately wanted to avoid becoming with Jake, so I drop it before it can turn into an argument.
His mood doesn’t change for the rest of the evening; he’s quiet and withdrawn, giving only one word answers, making conversation impossible.
Eventually I give in, taking myself off to bed early, really just trying to provoke a reaction from him.
I spend what feels like hours, going over every part of the evening with a fine toothed comb, trying to work out why he’s acting so offish. I over think every last comment, searching for hidden meaning; I thought the night had gone well, but could I have unwittingly offended them in some way? I conclude that it can’t be me,