Day Three

Illustrated by Victoria Cheng.

“Can we try and get the waiter’s attention?” 

“He’s with that family over there.”

“I can see that, Lou, that wasn’t my question – I asked if we can try and get his attention.”

“They do seem quite busy this evening.”

“Oh, sorry, should we have come for dinner at 3pm just to avoid the rush?”

“Mark, I’m not saying that –”

“You said it’s too busy here right now.”

“ – I just meant that we should probably expect to be patient. It’s a Friday.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes! He hasn’t even brought the wine over. I’m hungry.”

“I can tell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, there’s no need to go into a strop just because you haven’t had your dinner.” Mark gave an untranscribable response – something between a groan and a sigh – and stared at his phone. 

“Is it –”

“Yes, I’m using the restaurant WiFi! I’m not racking up data charges.”

“I was just checking!” Louise flicked through the menu again. It was made of flimsy paper clipped into a leather book, and the pages made a fluttering sound as she turned them.

“Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That – fiddling – noisy – eugh.”

“I’m only reading the menu.”

“Surely you’ve already decided?”

“I might change my mind. And there’s not much else to do, is there?”

“Well, I’m here.”

“Get off your phone then, and we can have a conversation like proper adults.”

“Sorry you don’t think I’m a ‘proper adult’.”

“Based on evidence from this evening, no, I don’t.”

“Fine.” Mark put his phone down with a flourish, releasing it a couple of millimetres from the table so it made a clattering noise. It was louder than he anticipated and he wasn’t sure if the table next door had heard it. “How are you enjoying Florence?” 

“Really? That’s the best you can do?”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”

“There must be something more interesting we can talk about.”

“Is two thousand pounds’ worth of holiday not interesting enough?”

“You know what I mean.”

“If you can think of something else, be my guest.”

“Okay,” Louise looked around the room, unwilling to concede that she couldn’t start an interesting conversation and was, in fact, just as boring as her husband. Then, she struck gold. “Oh my God, look at that guy over there.”

“Oh my God, that’s… a decision.”

“That’s going to age like milk.”

“I know, imagine in twenty years!”

“Oh my god, it goes all down his neck to his arm.”

“Probably more under his shirt.”

“I could never get a tattoo.”

“I definitely couldn’t get one on my face.”

“They’re so permanent.”

“Most people’s aren’t as obvious as that, to be fair. And you can get them removed.”

“Costs a fortune though.”

“It would probably hurt to get his one taken off.”

“I just can’t imagine getting something printed on my body forever.”

“I guess if it’s something that really matters to you, like someone’s name or a special date –”

“It might matter to you now, but once it’s tattooed, it’s going to have to matter to you for the rest of your life. I can’t imagine making a decision like that,  and being entirely confident that I’d never want to go back on it.” Louise looked at Mark. “What?”

“You do know what you just said?”

“What, that I wouldn’t want a tattoo?”

“That you would never make a permanent decision.”

“Sure.” 

Mark raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Sorry, you’re going to have to explain where this is going.”

“…We did just get married.”

“And?”

“Well, do you mean that you don’t see getting married as permanent?”

“Oh God, Mark, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You said you couldn’t imagine making a decision that you’d be confident in for the rest of your life, that you’d never want to go back on.”

“Yeah, but this is different –”

“How?”

“Well, we’re married but we’re not like, oh-a-married-couple married, we’re not doing the whole, you know, settling down, painting the nursery and looking at school catchment areas, are we? We’re just… confirming something we’ve been doing for ages. And wearing rings.”

“Sure, but are you saying you only agreed to get married because you can always get a divorce, that it’s just a bit more complicated than breaking up?”

“Are you telling me you didn’t? That’s why divorces exist, otherwise no one would get married.”

“I would!”

“Well, good for you!”

“And I don’t think we should be talking about divorce in week one as Mr and Mrs –”

“We are not Mr and Mrs.”

“Sorry, of course –”

“I will be keeping my name and becoming a Ms, thank you –”

“It’s just an expression, I didn’t mean it.”

“I know it’s an expression! I know what an expression is!”

“But still. Early days to bring up the D-word.”

“You started it!”

“No, you started it when you expressed a dislike for permanent things.”

“You turned a conversation about tattoos into a divorce case!”

“Let’s just get divorced now then, go back to how we were, if you apparently find marriage too much of a commitment after the first seventy-two hours.”

“It’s not too much of a commitment, I’m just acknowledging that it doesn’t have to be forever if we don’t want it to be!”

“What’s the point of marrying if you don’t want it to be forever?”

“I do want it to be forever! I just – I didn’t realise you were so obsessed with the idea of marriage.”

“I’m not obsessed, I just think – pretty reasonably, in my opinion – that getting married comes with a certain level of expectation and commitment.”

“Expectation and commitment sure, but not a life sentence!”

“You haven’t gone to prison, Lou, you’ve married me!”

“Yes, but I didn’t think you were so devoted to the idea of it lasting forever!”

“Well maybe I am!”

“Maybe I’m not!”

“Let’s just get divorced then!”

“Fine!”

“Good! Oh –”

“Hello –”

“Apologies, we are very busy tonight.”

“Oh, it’s no problem –” 

“– no bother –”

“What would you like?”

“Uh, Lou?”

“Uh, the carbonara, please.”

“I’ll have the tortellini. Oh, thank you –”

“Something to go with your wine?”

“Ah, olives, maybe?”

“Great, thank you –”

“Uno momento.”

The waiter left. Louise and Mark took up their glasses, and made the same solemn toast for the third night in a row.

“…happy honeymoon.”

“Happy honeymoon.”