Graham gets to the main course, finishing the last of the wine, and says goryooorluvleyithinkyooooorsgray to Fee, before his elbow misses the table and he bangs his chin on the table surface, upsetting Andy’s expensive salt and pepper pots. Graham then sits pretending nothing has happened, and staring at the table surface, while Andy and Fiona exchange concerned looks. Then Graham projectile vomits the Guinness, wine and acclaimed minestrone soup on the table, all over Fiona’s lovely roast.

Graham: Andy is a beast to Fiona the whole evening. He is constantly talking about his job and not letting her speak and interrupting her. He is a dreadful, dreadful man. Then there is a large space of time where Graham’s behaviour is nothing but acceptable. Then when they were having Fiona’s wonderful food Fiona looked upset as a result of a callous Andy remark, and Graham may or may not have declared his undying love for her, before feeling slightly unwell. Then there is another space of time. Then there is a rush of cold air and a taxi ride and bed before 11pm.

So. The solution, then?

The next day Andy calls and asks Graham if he is all right. Graham apologises, realising that his secret is still safe; Andy is behaving normally, and seems worried, and refuses Graham’s apologies with maddening niceness. Graham takes round flowers to Fiona in a delicate condition and apologises. Andy is out, nipped to get the papers and some Starbucks coffees for breakfast. Graham stands in the living room while Fiona makes a cup of tea and chats away. Graham says, I really care about you, you know; he didn’t mean to say it, not at all, it just came out; he is tired, and feels that he can say it. Fiona looks shocked and embarrassed, and says, Graham, I love Andy. And Graham leaves.

He should have said I love you, you know, or just I love you – that’s better, to the point, succinct. He is almost surprised. He thought that she loved him. He sits behind the pile of photocopying, almost above his head now. Boss is talking about the City match on Saturday, his voice carries all over the office and means Graham can’t ignore him. So no solution, really, then. Just an answer.

Abigail Warren is a penniless English graduate from Manchester Met, currently spending her time working, saving for travelling, and writing whenever she’s free to. She is waiting to be discovered, it will happen at any moment now.

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One Response to “l.o.v.e.”

  1. February 16, 2010 at 1:49 pm, Graham Parker said:

    I very much liked the piece. I liked the way that it was reported as something that does always happen. There was no great commotion about it, but it was very much to the point and succinct.

    Also it was strange because I’m Graham, my brother’s Andy and he used to be seeing a girl called Fiona. Very odd.


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