Redemption by the Bottle

“Look, Melba, I’m sure he’s not an axe-murderer”.

“I don’t know man, the odds may be slim but it could still happen - I’m definitely the type of person who’d meet for a Tinder date and wind up in a duffel bag somewhere”.

Even whilst saying this, the headline popped into Melba’s mind - International Student found Murdered, Body in two Bags. Logistically speaking, it would be quite difficult to place all of Melba’s unassembled limbs into one sports bag - two would probably be required.

“You didn’t seem that worried when you met whatshisface last month, or were you?”

Melba mumbled something non-committal and continued to apply mascara. Truth was, she hadn’t been on a date in 6 months. She’d lied numerous times to her friends here about meeting guys off Tinder. Originally it was to pre-emptively deflect any questions about her dating life, but after a while it grew to actual self-delusion, in a sense. You can’t be rejected by guys you’ve made up. Or, well, you probably can, but that’s at a totally different level of self-delusion.

Tonight, however, this guy was refreshingly a physical entity. He’d essentially invited himself over for movie night with the girls, which Melba oddly didn’t mind that much. Usually a movie night with your girlfriends is sacred terrain, but, you know. 6 months.

“Ok, I’m off to pick him up” Melba said, grabbing her jacket and purse. “Make sure you guys are ready when we’re back, in like half an hour or so”.

Walking to the ferry port, Melba tried to listen to some upbeat feel-good music. Maybe Ryan would be a good time. His Tinder banter was pretty off-the-wall, Melba mused, which was definitely an improvement from the monosyllabic answers that abound on dating apps. It could just be a language barrier for those other guys? Either way, Ryan stood out by a country mile. She was actually quite excited to meet him.

He looked pretty similar to his photos, Melba decided when first greeting him at the port. Dark curly hair, a bit of stubble, strong jawline. At least he wasn’t a catfish.

“Melbs! It’s you, in the flesh!” He shouted, going in for a very covid-unfriendly hug.

“It is, and look at you! You look just like your pictures.” Melba replied, smiling.

The walk back to the student apartment complex was not very well lit, but at least it was brief. Melba did wonder if it was foolish of her to trust this guy so implicitly, to walk in a deserted park with him after nightfall. If he’s an axe-murderer, now’s the time, I guess.

These thoughts were somewhat interrupted by Ryan’s Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation, his many references to his own penis, and near-constant swearing. Oh shit, Melba thought, filling with the immediate knowledge that they weren’t ever going to click. That feeling you get when you know you don’t want to have sex with this guy. His texting banter was off-the-wall, but he just wasn’t her cup of tea. Melba wished she was already in bed, alone, watching The Crown. The overview of the evening was already playing in her mind, and there was only one word for it - awkward.

“Bugger,” Melba mumbled, “we missed the turn.”

“No worries, if we get lost you can just whistle and summon Skippy the Kangaroo, I’m sure he’d help us.” At this Ryan hopped along a few paces, hands in front of his chest. Melba laughed politely, mentally noting that it wasn’t a language barrier that made her want to flee the scene.

Her phone buzzed. It was the girls’ group chat - they were inexplicably at Siobhan’s place, despite the TV set up being at Lotte’s.

“Looks like we’re making a detour, Ryan”. Walking to Siobhan’s apartment, Melba knew she was letting her friends in for a weird night. The guy was quoting South Park in German, for fuck’s sake. The embarrassment had already settled on Melba’s face as Siobhan opened the door.

Oh Christ, Siobhan said telepathically, that bad?

Melba smiled without showing lips, and said in her most friendly phone voice, “Guys, this is Ryan!”

Ryan walked in swaggering, back to his Arnie voice, “it’s great to meet you guys”. Lotte’s eyes were huge as the reference went over her head. Melba spotted a bottle of red wine on the dining table and tried to make a subtle lunge for it.

Ryan seated himself at the table, and the girls made it apparent that the HDMI cable for the laptop-to-TV connection had broken that afternoon, so there was going to be no movie tonight. Melba’s overview of the evening drastically changed in her mind’s eye, and it took all her strength to not gnaw the cork out of the merlot bottle with her teeth.

“Well that’s ok,” said Ryan, “now I can get to know all of my dates tonight!”. Clara shot Melba a side-eyed look. Fuck, Melba thought as she poured herself the only antidote available, they already feel the weird vibes.

“So Ryan, what do you do?” Siobhan asked kindly. Melba had already had the basic Tinder conversation with him, what do you study / where do you live / how many siblings do you have, blahhhh. Ryan let them all know that although he was in his bachelors, anyone who did a masters before age 25 knew nothing about the real world, and was committing themselves to a career without any forethought. This had decidedly not been mentioned via Tinder previously.

Melba chuckled as she offered “red wine, anyone? This one says it’s Jetbird, and I think it may do the trick”. All the girls, aside from Melba, were under 25 and doing their masters degrees. Three empty wine glasses were pushed forward silently as Ryan went on.

“I study business and economics, but I’m more interested in my band, you know?” Ryan said, swigging from the wine bottle. Maybe we’ll all magically get covid, Melba thought, that’d be one way out of this.

Siobhan, to her credit, asked the polite follow-up questions that Melba couldn’t bring herself to ask. It was glaringly obvious that Ryan was yet to ask one question of any of the girls, Melba included.

“What you have to know about the stockmarket is … the theory behind trickle down economics was quite sound, when you look at it … I think the EU has gone too far with the open borders, in my opinion …”. A second bottle was opened within 20 minutes.

“So how will you get rid of him?” Clara asked Melba in the bathroom. “His Tinder banter was fine, but this is just mental”.

“He caught the ferry, and Google tells me that the last one back left three minutes ago,” Melba answered, stumbling a bit as she flushed the toilet. “Homeboy is staying the night, apparently”.

“Fuck”, Clara summed up succinctly.

After another, rather excruciating, 54 minutes, it was time for bed. Melba and Ryan trotted off to Melba’s single apartment.

Those bloody capitalists, Melba thought to herself as she looked at her single bed. Wouldn’t want someone spending the night without paying any rent.

It was decided they should watch some Netflix from bed, of which the cruel irony to Melba was keenly felt. About halfway through some Bruce Willis flick - his choice, of course - Melba noticed the gentle snores coming from next to her. Thank Christ.

There’s never really any discomfort quite like trying to fit two people into a single bed. As a result, Melba spent the night crammed into the corner, staring at her bedroom wall. The snores getting progressively louder. Melba’s hip hurting from taking all the weight. Sleep evading her, as the birds started to sing.

At 7am Melba turfed Ryan out, claiming that her paper due in two months was in fact due in two days. As she finally drifted to sleep, star-fishing on her bed, Melba sent a little thank you out into the universe - firstly to the merlot makers for such a potent wine, and to Siobhan for buying so much of it. Melba had successfully plied Ryan with enough of it in the hopes of a sleepy ending.

Awakening around midday, Melba scrubbed her eyes and tasted her dry mouth. She’d gotten a text from Ryan at 7:21am, saying:

Thanks for last night, I had a great time! Just wondering, do you have Siobhan’s number?