Ham and Cheese, Part Three

Ham and Cheese, Part Three

C RISPIN

W ILKERSON III,

aka Chris, aka Ham and Cheese, feels a firework of adrenaline in his stomach when he sees Sainsbury’s Girl approach the table outside the cocktail bar where he is having a cigarette for luck. This cigarette is no different from any of the other fifteen cigarettes he smoked today, except for the fact that he is smoking this one before his date with Sainsbury’s Girl, so he is hoping it will be lucky. He had an extra ham-and-cheese sandwich before getting ready, also for luck. As he chewed, he could hear his therapist’s voice in his head: ‘ What happens if we tell ourselves that objects have no bearing on our fortune?

’

It is already dark and the patio heaters are aflame. She’s wearing a black velvet dress with stars on and little star gems in her hair. Her black Doc Martens are making her walk in a slouchy way, like they’re far too heavy for her. She sees him and smiles. Ham and Cheese is wearing a big faux-fur coat that makes him look like a bear who has wandered out of the woods and into the city so he can try a cocktail or two. Beneath that, he’s wearing a black silky shirt and

black jeans ripped at the knees, which, if his father ever saw, would make him stutter at the ridiculousness of buying clothes already damaged. Ham and Cheese has his hair in a half-up bun and he hopes that he doesn’t look like a posh person pretending to be cool, which is what he feels like most of the time.

‘Sainsbury’s Girl,’ he says with a nod as she sits down. He doesn’t actually know her name because her staff badge is pinned to her chest, right above her left boob, and he hasn’t found a subtle way to learn her name without it appearing that he is leering. She is saved in his phone as S.G.

‘Ham and Cheese.’ She sits down. ‘You can just call me Bella.’

‘Bella,’ he says with a smile, trying the name out. ‘You hungry?’

‘I already ate,’ she says, ‘but you go on.’

‘I ate too,’ he says.

‘What did you have?’

He pauses. To tell the truth or to lie.

‘Was it ham and cheese?’ She’s laughing, but she’s not judging him.

They have a table reserved inside, but it’s so nice out here, watching the people and the buses pass by. And also, he can smoke. Ham and Cheese wonders how many of his life decisions revolve around where and when he can smoke and trying to increase the locations and the frequency of those opportunities.

They order a cocktail each: he asks for an Old Spanish and Bella has a Blue Lagoon. The Old Spanish is very strong. Ham and Cheese feels it wrap around him like a warm

blanket. With the fur coat, his cheeks are really warm. They have discussed films, music and what they would name a dog if they were to get a dog tomorrow (a question Ham and Cheese always uses as an ice breaker).

‘Okay, I have to ask,’ Ham and Cheese says, turning towards her. ‘The gentleman with the bow ties.’

‘Yes?’ Bella asks, as though she can’t possibly think what Ham and Cheese might be about to ask. As though her association with Eddie is totally normal and du jour

.

‘Okay, first I need to know where he got that shirt with the leopards on.’

‘They’re cheetahs.’

‘Are they? What’s the difference?’

‘Cheetahs are slinkier.’

Ham and Cheese can’t help but laugh.

‘I have to know where he bought it. It’s amazing.’

‘He got it from the charity shop on Corporation Street. He works there.’

‘Damn. It’s fantastic. I was going to try and get one for myself.’

‘I’ll tell him to keep his eyes peeled for another. The idea that you two might have matching shirts will probably thrill him.’

The waitress comes over and they order again. Bella requests a Pornstar Martini while Ham and Cheese deliberates and goes for a Tequila Sunrise. When he taps his debit card against the reader, Bella frowns. ‘Crispin?’

‘Don’t,’ he says. ‘I know.’

‘I can see why you stuck with Ham and Cheese. Much less embarrassing.’

‘Have I told you about my brother, Prawn Mayonnaise?’

She laughs, and he can feel himself relaxing into the evening.

But still, he says, ‘I have to know. Is he your grandad?’

‘What? No. He’s far too old.’

‘Then how do you know him?’

‘He’s just a friend,’ she says. ‘His name is Eddie.’

‘Good, he looks like an Eddie.’

‘And you look like a Ham and Cheese.’

Ham and Cheese waits. She sighs. ‘If you really want to know how we met?’ she asks.

‘Every time I see you together, I want to know.’

‘Are you sure you want to know?’

‘One hundred per cent.’

‘Okay,’ she says, taking a deep breath and looking Ham and Cheese right in the eye. ‘I met Eddie Winston because my boyfriend died.’

‘Oh,’ Ham and Cheese says. ‘Shit.’ And then remembers what you’re meant to say in this sort of situation. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I was donating his stuff to the charity shop, and there was Eddie.’

‘God. I’m. I – It’s—’ Ham and Cheese says, his stomach twisting from the awkwardness. He has ruined the date. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ she says, but she doesn’t say any more than that, and Ham and Cheese’s mind goes blank: he’s unable to think of another thing to say. He puts a cigarette to his lips just for something to do, but he can’t get it lit in the breeze. Bella leans across the table and holds her hands over the end of the cigarette, making a little igloo so he can ignite it. Perhaps all is not lost.

‘I would imagine Eddie has a lot of wisdom to share,’ Ham and Cheese says, blowing the smoke off to the side so it doesn’t go in her face.

‘A lot less than you’d think,’ Bella says. There’s a pause, and Bella tries to take a sip of her drink, even though there is nothing left in her glass.

‘I really am sorry,’ he says again.

‘It’s really okay,’ Bella says. ‘I was just trying to avoid talking about it because I thought it might be a bit of a depressing topic for a first date.’

He nods.

‘If this was

a date,’ Bella says quickly, undone for the first time. ‘I wasn’t sure.’

‘I’d like to think it is,’ Ham and Cheese says. ‘How about you?’

‘Go on then,’ she says with a grin. ‘It’s a date.’

There’s another pause, but this one isn’t so unbearable.

‘Your jacket is amazing, by the way,’ Bella says.

‘Oh, thank you. It’s from The Nutcracker

.’

‘It’s from The Nutcracker

?’ she repeats.

He nods.

‘Is that a place where clothes come from?’

Ham and Cheese laughs. ‘My flatmate Terrence is a costume designer at the Hippodrome. When they rejigged The Nutcracker

a few years ago, a lot of the old costumes went up for auction. He bought me this to make up for his boyfriend ruining our living-room carpet. I think it was for a bear originally,’ he tells her. ‘Not real fur though, don’t worry.’

‘I used to want to be a costume designer,’ Bella says.

‘Used to?’

‘I had to do English at uni.’

‘Had to?’

‘The only way I could afford uni was to get a scholarship, and my highest marks were always in English.’

‘Which uni did you go to?’

‘Oxford.’

‘That’s impressive.’

She shrugs. ‘It’s not such a fun place to be when you’re poor.’

‘I can imagine,’ Ham and Cheese says, though he really can’t.

‘I was supposed to go into some sort of graduate job, but then Jake—’

She stops herself as a waitress comes out and asks if they’d like anything else.

‘What would you recommend?’ Bella asks her.

‘The colour-changing cocktail,’ the waitress says. ‘It’s really popular.’

‘One each, please,’ Bella says, and hands over her debit card before Ham and Cheese can reach for his. ‘Technically, I should have been paying for all of these, since I asked you on this … date.’

Ham and Cheese puts his wallet away. ‘A stickler for etiquette,’ he says as the waitress heads off inside. ‘Interesting.’

‘Oh, if one doesn’t have etiquette, what does one have?’

‘So, Sainsbury’s?’ Ham and Cheese asks. ‘I don’t mean that how it sounds, it’s just. How did you end up there?’

‘When Jake died, I wanted to burn the world down.’

‘Understandable.’

‘But it was too hard to do, so I just burned my life down instead.’

Their magical cocktails arrive, consisting of a martini glass of blue liquid and a conical flask of something clear.

‘Enjoy,’ the waitress says, heading back inside.

Bella picks up the clear flask and pours it into her blue cocktail and they both watch as it slowly turns from blue through dark purple to bright red. Ham and Cheese is mesmerized, like a child for a moment. He almost claps his hands, but manages to stop himself.

They clink their glasses together and then, after the first sip, Ham and Cheese says, ‘If you ever feel that you might be ready to stack your last ham-and-cheese sandwich, I might know of something …’