Chapter Five – Date With Disaster
Three large glasses of wine supplied Carrie with plenty of Dutch courage by seven o’clock that evening. She’d been very forward in inviting Dave to her place almost as soon as she met him, but why waste time? A guy like that wouldn’t be single for long. You had to take your opportunities when they appeared or miss out.
It was also silly of her to invite an almost complete stranger into her home, but she didn’t think the kind of men her mother warned her about offered you cake at work.
She was pouring herself a fourth glass of wine when the doorbell sounded. Swaying slightly, Carrie held the door open for Dave. He was carrying a bottle and had changed from his work clothes into a casual jacket, black T-shirt and close-fitting jeans.
“Hi, Dave.” Carrie piped. She cleared her throat. “Hi, Dave, come in.”
He handed Carrie the bottle and looked around as he entered the hallway. “Am I the first to arrive?” He took off his jacket and hung it on the hat stand.
Closing the door, Carrie thanked him as she took the bottle, then said, “I beg your pardon?”
“Am I the first arrival? To your party.”
“Party?”
“You said you were having a housewarming.”
“Did I?” Carrie thought back. Her mind was a little foggy, but she was quite sure she hadn’t said that. Why would she invite other people to come between her and this handsome hunk? “Err...” She didn’t know what to say.
“Oh, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding,” said Dave. There was a pause. “Maybe I should—”
“Oh, don’t go,” exclaimed Carrie as Dave took his jacket. “You’ve only just got here. I’m sorry, I probably wasn’t clear at work. First day nerves or something.”
Dave grimaced. “Sorry, Carrie, but I think maybe you’ve got—”
“Can’t you stay a little while? I’m new in this area and I don’t know anyone.” Carrie winced at the whiny tone in her voice.
Hesitating, Dave said, “What’s that scratching?” The noise was coming from Carrie’s living room door.
“Oh, that’s Rogue. He wants to say hello.”
“You’ve got a dog? Great! Can I meet him?”
Carrie opened the door, and Rogue bounded out, leapt up and began licking Dave’s face as though he were a long lost friend.
“Get down, Rogue,” said Carrie. “Dave’s a guest. Be good.” The dog dropped onto his hind quarters and wagged his tail furiously.
Dave was looking closely at the dog’s face. He swallowed hard. “Wow, he’s...”
“I know! He’s so handsome, isn’t he?”
“Well, I’m not sure...I’d go quite that far. I mean, he’s very...what I mean is...” Dave was watching Carrie’s expression. “You could say he’s kind of unusual-looking.”
“What do you mean?” Carrie’s heart sank. Was Dave going to be like Barry and hate her pets? Unusual-looking? Rogue was the best-looking dog in the world. Okay, his eyes bulged out a bit and the left side of his face didn’t match the right, but when she first got him from the rescue centre, she couldn’t believe he’d waited for months to be picked. She’d snapped him up right away and felt a little guilty for not choosing a less attractive dog who might struggle to find a home.
Dave was patting Rogue and looking towards the door.
“So you like dogs, do you?” asked Carrie. “Why don’t you stay and get to know Rogue a bit better?” She grinned hopefully.
“Hmmm, okay.”
“Yes!” Carrie clapped her hands.
“But there’s a Leonardo DiCaprio biopic on tonight. Do you mind if we watch it? I’m recording it, but I never seem to get a chance to watch anything these days, and I really wanted to see it.”
“Leonardo DiCaprio?” Carrie shrugged. “Okay.” She went to the kitchen for another glass while Dave went into the living room and turned on the television. The bright orange jumpsuit and pile of strange equipment was still on her kitchen table. Carrie had been ignoring it since she came home, uncertain of what she should do with it all. The Government would definitely be interested, but they would have also have a lot of difficult questions she couldn’t answer without them locking her up. She wondered if she could put the stuff out for recycling. Most of it seemed kind of metallic.
“It’s starting,” called Dave.
He was sitting in a corner of the sofa. Carrie plonked herself down in the middle. Dave eased closer to the edge. She handed him a glass of wine, and leaned back, resting her head on the cushions. Photographs of Leonardo DiCaprio as a baby were scrolling across the TV screen.
“Born the eleventh of November, 1974,” said Carrie, simultaneously with the narrator.
“Well done,” said Dave. “You’re a fan, too?”
“Oh no,” said Carrie. “I read it somewhere. I remember stuff like that. I’m a mine of useless information, but it comes in handy for doing pub quizzes.”
“I like pub quizzes too. What else do you like doing?”
“Bagua Zhang, an ancient Chinese martial art. It’s so cool. I’ve been doing it since I was thirteen. Do you want me show you some moves?”
“Er, no, that’s okay. I’m a bit of a film buff myself.”
Carrie nodded. “Makes sense.” Leonardo DiCaprio’s role in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape was being discussed in the documentary.
“He’s a great actor,” said Dave.
Carrie shrugged. “I suppose.”
Rogue was lying across her feet, and Toodles was in hiding somewhere, waiting for her to walk past unsuspectingly, no doubt. Such a sweet cat. Carrie was very, very relaxed, and the wine was making her head swim. She stole a look at Dave’s profile from the corner of her eye. He was so good-looking. Almost as handsome as Rogue.
Dave caught her looking at him, and she quickly looked away. He went back to watching the TV.
Carrie was sleepy. She yawned and stretched out her arms. Her right arm just happened to rest across the back of the sofa, behind Dave. He edged away. Carrie’s arm began a slow descent down the sofa back. As it touched Dave’s shoulders he scooted forward so that her arm fell onto the cushions.
He turned. “What are you doing?”
“What? I’m not doing anything.” Carrie’s cheeks flushed.
“You’ve had quite a lot to drink, haven’t you?”
“N-no...” She didn’t think so, anyway.
Dave took the remote control and turned down the volume on the TV. His expression became kind but serious. Carrie blinked. The evening didn’t seem to be going as planned.
“Carrie, it’s okay, I don’t mind. But I’m gay. I don’t make a secret of it, so I was a bit surprised at your behaviour. You only met me today, so of course you didn’t know.”
“You’re...oh.” Carrie’s head was suddenly painfully clear. “Sorry,” she said in a small voice.
“No, really, it’s okay. You don’t have anything to apologise for. It’s just a misunderstanding.” Dave turned up the TV volume and settled back. Carrie shifted to the middle of the sofa and wondered if she should move farther away, just to make clear how well she understood. The sound of the biopic commentary seemed to echo in the growing silence.
She couldn’t bear it any longer. “I suppose that happens to you a lot,” she blurted. “I mean, women...” She couldn’t think how to complete the sentence without drawing more attention to her terrible faux pas.
Without taking his eyes from the TV, Dave replied, “No, actually.”
Carrie wished the sofa cushions beneath her would slide apart so she could slip smoothly between them and down into the dark recess beneath, from which she would never, ever emerge.
Another silence stretched out. Carrie was acutely aware of Dave’s presence next to her, heavy and still. Shots of Leonardo DiCaprio flashed across the TV screen, but she couldn’t make sense of what the narrator was saying. He seemed to be speaking through cotton wool.
Dave stretched and let out a long, fake yawn. “You know, I’m really tired. I think I’ll catch the rest of this at home.”
“Don’t you want to see the rest of the programme?”
“No, like I said, I’m recording it. I’ll show myself out.”
Carrie’s face burned. “Okay, then.”
“See you at work on Monday.”
“Yes, see you.” As Dave left the room Carrie buried her head in her hands. “You stupid, stupid woman,” she mumbled. “You stupid—” Her head jerked up. The direction Dave left the living room had registered. He’d gone into the kitchen, probably to put his glass away. The kitchen, where a fluorescent orange jumpsuit and those weird, inexplicable objects were. She jumped up. “Dave,” she called.
A green glow appeared in the open doorway, and Rogue began to bark. “Dave!” From a high shelf behind her came Toodles’ yowl. Carrie ran into the kitchen. The under-sink cupboard door was open, and a glowing green mist was spilling from it. She was too late. Dave was nowhere to be seen. He must have been sucked through the mist and into that place with the terrible bug alien. She would have to go after him.
Hesitating, she looked from the open cupboard door to the table and back again. Should she take all that stuff the creature had given her? The bag to hold it all was in her bedroom, and the mist was beginning to fade. As the green glow dwindled, the cupboard door began to swing closed.
“Dave,” shouted Carrie, as she dove through the remaining gap.