“You look nice,” he says. He leans forward to kiss her on the cheek.
“Sorry,” she replies. “I didn’t have time to organize myself properly this week. Again. So, I’m my usual scruffy self.”
He didn’t mean for his insincerity to be detected.
Lorenzo quickly finishes his pint and they both order cocktails. Lorenzo’s is tall and sleek, while Glenda’s comes in a squat tumbler stuffed with layers of ice and citrus. Lorenzo gets up from his bar stool and they find a table together at the back.
“I thought I saw you go past the Behn on your way home from work,” Lorenzo says.
“I live above the pub,” Glenda replies. “It would be difficult to avoid.”
“Why didn’t you pop in and say hello? Did you see me in there?”
“Yeah.” Glenda fiddles with a paper napkin. She tears off little pieces and piles them up like a cairn on top of a hill. “I saw your old man friend too.”
“Robert?”
“I don’t think he likes me.”
“He’s just a little afraid of you.”
“Because I’m a woman?”
“Because you’re a particular kind of woman.”
“Gay?”
“No, he isn’t homophobic.”
“Just a misogynist.”
“Not a misogynist as such, just a bit scared of women.”
“Isn’t that where misogyny comes from?”
“Well, yeah, but, I don’t know. I’m not trying to justify it.” He isn’t trying to justify it, although he realizes that’s how it seems.
“Sorry, I’m not trying to have a go. I just don’t get it. Well, I do get it. But I also don’t get it.”
Lorenzo feels a bit awkward. He has got the impression previously that his friendship with Robert was a sticking point between him and Glenda, but they have never had a conversation about it.
Glenda continues: “I can absolutely appreciate that he can have issues and still be a decent person in other respects, but a general, difficult-to-define, non-specific fear of women—that he may or may not have—just isn’t something I have the energy to put up with.”
“I understand that.”
“But hey, you go ahead with your outreach thing.”
He is annoyed now. “Yes, he”s older and rough round the edges, but I also think he’s a good man. I’m not saying it’s okay he’s not comfortable around you, but he’s able to be friends with me, so deserves at least six out of ten on the Absolute Caveman to Enlightened Metrosexual scale.”
Glenda starts to giggle.
“What?” Lorenzo asks.
“It’s just I haven’t heard the word metrosexual for years. It’s very noughties.”
Lorenzo smiles, and relaxes. “Sorry,” he says. “I suppose I’m defensive about him because I do recognize what you’re saying, and I know we seem like odd drinking companions, but I’ve known him my whole life, and it is what it is.”
“It is,” Glenda agrees. “And also …”
She doesn’t finish the sentence but hovers on the last syllable and raises her eyebrows to indicate there’s something she’s holding back.
“Don’t say it,” urges Lorenzo.
“Daddy issues,” Glenda finishes.
“Yep. Fine. You’ve got me there.”
He playfully flicks at the pile of paper napkin pieces Glenda has arranged, and they flutter in her direction.
It is true that Lorenzo has a bad relationship with his father, and the links between this and his tendency to form surprising friendships with older, straight, working-class men isn’t lost on him. He just doesn’t think it’s the only reason he’s friends with Robert.
Glenda looks at Lorenzo sheepishly from behind her glasses. There are greasy fingerprints on the lenses, which Lorenzo notices for the second time. He has the urge to take them from her and polish the glass with his cotton shirt.
“Sorry,” she says.
“No, don’t be silly.”
“I think we have both said ‘sorry’ to each other about five times now.”
“Something like that.” He looks again at her dirty glasses. “Changing the subject, do you know what I saw on the Tube the other day?” He doesn’t wait for her to guess. “I was alone in a carriage on the Bakerloo Line going up to Yolanda’s, and the only other person there was this middle-aged woman sitting opposite me. She looked totally normal. Totally respectable. And do you know what she was doing? She was watching pornography on her phone. I saw it reflected in her glasses. Can you believe that?”
“Oh my god.”
“On the Tube. What the actual fuck?”
“What kind of pornography was it?”
“God knows. I looked away pretty rapidly. I just had enough time to see some naked arses, and that was about it.”
“Maybe it was an arthouse film.”
“It could have been, but that’s still a weird thing to watch on the Tube. She was only on between Oxford Circus and Marylebone.”
After this, Lorenzo asks Glenda about her work. She is now employed by a major firm of estate agents. Lorenzo is fond of houses: their interiors and exteriors, the domestic routines they contain, their place in the economy, and their potential to make or break fortunes. He does not think that it is the right job for Glenda in the long-term, however. She is too sensitive for a sales role, or any kind of highly pressured business environment. She is too much of an introvert, and going out of her way to talk to strangers and persuade them to buy or sell expensive property couldn’t really be more antithetical to her character. But Lorenzo understands she needs the money. Glenda wants to be a theater director (which, if Lorenzo is being honest, is also a bit unrealistic), and to pursue this, she needs to have enough money saved either to do a course or unpaid internship.
Last week, Glenda’s company started work on a new project. They are collaborating with a development firm that owns a significant amount of property in central London, much of which is not currently Achieving its Full Potential, which Glenda and Lorenzo agreed sounded like something
