Dream a Little Dream Read Free

of television, but instead I ended up with porky Jonathan (it might be a television production company, but I’m basically just his skivvy) while Dan tried freelancing and temping where he could. Luckily for him, the freelancing eventually led to Dan becoming the Digital Media Executive at a fancy PR company – I’ve no idea what the role entailed, but it sounded good. It was there, on the first day of his new job, that he met Perfect Lexie (that’s the full name I’ve given her since – others know her simply as
Lexie) and decided that what he felt for her in that single day he’d never felt for me. It was that quick. That cutthroat. That cold.
    The worst of it was that we talked about it.
    In great depth.
    That night.
    ‘So, it was a good first day?’ I’d innocently asked while we were sat at the dinner table tucking into the turkey and sweet leek pie I’d spent hours making. It was his favourite – I thought his new job called for a celebration of some sort so had taken the afternoon off to spoil him.
    ‘Yeah …’ he shrugged, nonchalantly.
    ‘You sure?’ I encouraged, finding it strange that he wasn’t forthcoming with every detail of his first day in his important-sounding position. I was worried he hated it. ‘Is it not what you thought it was going to be? Because everyone feels weird when they start somewhere new – you’ve just got to get used to it.’
    ‘No, the job’s fine …’
    ‘Oh. Is it the people? Are they cliquey? You’ll charm your way around them in no time. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?’ I babbled with a smile – stuffing a whole floret of broccoli in my mouth and gaily munching away.
    Watching me, Dan took a deep breath and delicately lowered his knife and fork on to his plate.
    Pensively, he lent across the table and grabbed my hand affectionately – his thumb rubbing the back of my hand.
    For a moment I thought he was going to propose – and the first thoughts that crossed my mind were that my knife was still lingering awkwardly in my left hand (mid-pie-slicing), and that I possibly had bits of broccoli stuck
in my teeth. I quickly manoeuvred the knife with my right hand and swept my tongue along the front of my teeth, before looking up at Dan with a sheepish grin on my face.
    Funny that I felt shy in that moment, and acted coy and demure.
    Rather shamefully, Dan wasn’t smiling back in quite the same way though.
    He was smiling, but the smile wasn’t one of unconditional love. Instead, it said ‘sorry’. It’s a look that has haunted me ever since and physically makes me shudder with embarrassment – especially as I’m still able to recall the slowness with which my own loving smile slid from my face as it tried to maintain an element of hope for our situation.
    But the fleeting thought of a declaration of never-ending commitment puffed out its last breath as it withered away and died quietly. Instead, Dan enlightened me in unknown matters of the heart. His heart.
    ‘The thing is, Sarah …’ he began, before proceeding to tell me everything that had been on his mind for the previous few months. He’d started to see me more as a friend, not someone he was hoping to grow old with. He’d apparently felt that way for quite some time, but meeting Perfect Lexie (and fancying the pants off her) had only helped to confirm those thoughts. There’s not much you can say when someone is as brutally honest as that. Besides, rather annoyingly, what choice did I have? Screaming at him wasn’t going to change his mind. Instead, I chose to nod along to his heart-breaking monologue and flick burnt bits of flaky puff pastry around my plate, all the while biting into my bottom lip to stop myself from crying.
    I didn’t want to cry and I didn’t.
    Not in front of him anyway.
    I cried bucketloads over the subsequent days and weeks (then months and now nearly two years) – but in that moment, in our little kitchen-diner, I managed to hold them back.
    Dan