Finding Mr Perfectly Fine

‘.?.?. so in the end we went for ZaraTheExplarer.’

‘What?’ I screech, forgetting the fact that I’m still in the office. Water spurts all over my computer monitor and Adam and Francesca both turn to stare at me, as do about twenty other people in the open-plan workspace. I mouth ‘sorry’ to them, wipe my lips with my sleeve like a sloth and continue my call outside.

‘Mum! How could you?’ I shout the moment the lift doors close. ‘Zara the what?’

‘Oh, stop getting so worked up. It’s funny. Creative. A great conversation starter.’

‘For a six-year-old who can’t spell, perhaps!’

‘Don’t be rude to me, young woman. I’ll speak to you later. Bye.’

Mum hangs the phone up on my face and it takes all my willpower not to throw it against the wall. Zara the Effing Explarer? Where the hell does she get these things from? He’s going to think I’m an illiterate nutjob before I even meet him. If I get to meet him. He’ll probably run for the hills once he sees my supposed email address, inspired by a backpack-wearing, adventure-seeking Spanish-speaking infant with a bad haircut. So much for a more ‘mature’ email address!

I feel my blood pressure rising. In an attempt to calm down, I decide to go outside and passive smoke in the alleyway where the smokers congregate.

The icy air strikes me as soon as I open the emergency exit door. I nod to the only other person crazy enough to venture out in the freezing February cold and go and stand near enough to him so I can breathe in his second-hand smoke. He shuffles away from me and I inch closer again, inhaling deeply. Within minutes I’m shivering, my flimsy jumper more of a fashion thing than a keeping-warm thing. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

‘What was all that about?’

I turn to see Adam next to me, two mugs of fresh hot tea in his hands and I almost hug him in relief. Instead, I grab a mug from him and hold it tight to warm up my hands.

‘N-nothing! N-none of your b-bloody business,’ I stammer, my teeth beginning to chatter.

‘Well, it sounded like something,’ he says reasonably. ‘You look like you’re freezing. Here, take my jacket.’ He hands me his mug to hold while he shrugs his jacket off. I start to shake my head but I don’t want to catch pneumonia for the sake of my pride, so I accept it grudgingly and pull it on. It’s surprisingly warm considering he’s only been wearing it for a few minutes, and smells like soap, lemons and a tinge of aftershave. It’s also pretty big, so I wrap it tight around me. I’ve never worn a man’s clothes before and it feels quite nice, if I’m honest. I wonder if Mo smells this good?

‘Thanks,’ I mutter, taking a big sip of tea which makes me feel better instantly. He’s made it just how I like it, milky but strong with the bag still inside and two heaped teaspoons of sugar.

‘Well?’ He looks at me expectantly so I take a deep breath and tell him all about the dentist’s biodata, his picture, and my new email address. I recount all this whilst examining the countless dots of old chewing gum embedded in the pavement, but when there’s no reaction from Adam, I peek up at him. He has a solemn expression on his face but the glint in his hazel eyes suggests otherwise.

‘Go on, laugh and get it over with,’ I grumble, and not a moment too soon, as the laughter erupts.

‘ZaraTheExplarer!’ he gasps, holding on to his sides. ‘I don’t know what’s worse – your email address or his stethoscope! Maybe it’s a euphemism for .?.?. something else?’

His laughter is infectious and I start to giggle. When he isn’t being an idiot, he’s quite fun to be around. He asks me if I have the biodata on my phone, and I nod and show it to him. He studies it intently and I can tell he’s reading it all, word for word. He smiles at the picture but his mood seems to have altered slightly.

‘You’ve agreed to meet him?’ he asks, handing my phone back to me.

‘Well, I agreed for the middle person to send my own biodata to them,’ I explain with a shrug. ‘If he likes mine then we’ll probably meet. But since he’s asked for my email address, I guess he’s seen it and wants to correspond for a bit over email before meeting.’

‘Hang on, so you have one of these as well?’ Adam’s eyes light up and I shake my head vehemently before he asks.

‘No way, you’re going to take the piss,’ I moan, covering my eyes. ‘It’s so embarrassing. My mum wrote it all and it’s awful!’

‘Go on, I promise I won’t laugh.’

‘Like hell you won’t!’

‘I can tell you what it’s like from an outsider’s perspective,’ he reasons.

‘Fine, but if you so much as snicker, I swear I’ll have you fired,’ I threaten, handing my phone over once again. I feel a bit self-conscious but it’s not like he doesn’t know me already. I analyse his face as he reads it all carefully but his expression gives nothing away.

‘Well? What do you think?’ I ask impatiently after he’s been staring at it for a while.

‘Erm .?.?. all that village and district stuff is pretty meaningless to me but it’s obviously important to you lot. Why is that?’ he asks, his face impassive.

‘I dunno, I’m not really bothered. I want someone I get along with who believes in the same things I do. But my mum and grandma want me to marry someone from a similar district and background as there’s a better chance of our families getting along. It’s more likely that we’ll all have the same expectations, similar upbringing and basically be on the same wavelength.’

He takes a moment to digest this, and I ask him what happens in his community.