‘If he wanted to marry me, he’d have to become Muslim, that’s non-negotiable, regardless of whether he was Black, white, or anything in-between.’
I had to stop myself from picking at my nails throughout the Tube journey back to north London, as anxiety overcame me. I did the breathing techniques that Fareena had taught me to try and manage the sensation of everything inside me coiling up into a tight ball: breathing in for four seconds, holding that breath for another four and then exhaling for four seconds. I was meeting Noah, my Noah, from the list that had changed my life and I was terrified of what would happen. Yes, there was the fear of us not connecting again, which would tarnish my perception of the past nine months. But what would be worse would be him not turning out to be the person I thought he was. All this time I had been going through pages in this notebook belonging to him, tracing my fingers over his words, looking into his mind as he worked his way through the list, doing my own version of his ideas and plans. We were bound together by this book, by our shared experiences, but he had no idea about it all. How was I going to hold myself together? How was I going to stop myself from confessing it all?
I had to, though, because if he found out what had been going on, he would probably think I was a stalkerish psychopath. He would run and never look back.
I got off the train at Finsbury Park and hopped from one foot to another as I waited for the W7 bus to Crouch End. I had to pull myself together. I could not mess this up. There was no reason why I should mess it up, I told myself over and over again. Noah seemed to like me before my makeover and before the list; when I was simple, boring Maya with a simple and boring life. Look at me now. I was going back into education. I knew where I wanted my career to go. I had run a race for charity. I was strong, I was sort of independent. If I could handle jumping out of a plane, then a coffee with some guy I’d met briefly in the past would be an absolute doddle.
Topping up my lipstick on the bus and giving myself three sprays of my eye-wateringly expensive perfume, which I had now calculated to cost approximately 25p per spritz, assuming there were 1,000 sprays in the 100ml bottle, I did a bit more deep breathing, recited a prayer and then got off the bus right outside the clocktower where we were due to meet, my body trembling with nerves.
It was almost six and I was bang on time. When the bus drove away and cleared my line of vision, I saw him. He was standing beneath the tower in a leather jacket and jeans, scrolling through his phone. He looked like he belonged on the front of an estate agent’s leaflet, encouraging young, trendy people to move to Crouch End.
Before I could back out, Noah looked up from his phone and the biggest smile spread across his face. And then he was walking towards me. I was rooted to the spot, my face contorted into an expression that was part startled, part nervous; my smile more of a grimace than the thing we do with our mouths when we’re happy. Because I wasn’t happy, I was bloody terrified.
‘Maya? Hey! I’m Noah!’ He spoke in exclamation marks and leant over for a hug. I stiffened, did something that resembled a return hug and inhaled his gorgeous scent. He smelt clean but with some sort of musky undertone.
‘Hi,’ I squeaked, my face already flushing. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
‘Likewise! Do you fancy grabbing some food instead of a coffee? I’m a lot hungrier than I thought I’d be and there’s a nice Thai place up the hill if you fancy it? My treat?’
I knew the restaurant he was talking about and it happened to be halal as well, so I nodded my consent and followed his long strides towards Crouch End Hill, my brain working in overtime to try and process what was going on.
When we got to the restaurant, Noah helped me out of my brand-new, tan-coloured suede trench, the most expensive of the items Lucy had bought for me the day before. It was a bit embarrassing, with the material clinging to my shirt dress and him having to work a little harder to get it off. And when he did, I noticed that the bloody label was still on the jacket. He must have seen it, it was too conspicuous not to and once again I felt heat creep up my neck, giving me the appearance of a scarlet fever patient.
We finally sat down across from each other but I couldn’t bring myself to stare at him the way I could feel him staring at me. Was this normal for an online date? It didn’t feel normal. I had heard horror stories about guys refusing to pay for a single drink, or trying to get away with a free walk in the park to save money and here was Noah offering to pay for a meal? What was his endgame?
‘So,’ he began after we’d ordered our food, ‘I really liked your RateMyDate profile. You sound like you’re into the same sort of things as me.’
‘I do?’
‘Yeah! Well, that’s the impression I got. What sort of things do you do in your free time?’
‘I run, read, go out with my friends. I’m really into trying things I’ve never done before,’ I replied slowly, trying not to give away the fact that the latter part of my statement was all thanks to him and his list.
‘Me too,’ Noah grinned, taking a bite out of the prawn crackers that had appeared at our table. ‘What was the last thing you read?’
I thought for a moment, wondering if I should come out and say it. It almost felt wrong, but it was the truth, sort of. It was one of the last things I read anyway.
‘Ulysses,’ I croaked, trying to keep my expression and voice neutral.
‘NO BLOODY WAY,’ Noah stared at me, his beautiful eyes, almost the same colour as my dress, wide in shock. ‘I’ve read that. What did you think of it? I can’t believe it.’
I wracked my brain, trying to remember what Noah had said about it. Oh yes. Epic. ‘It was pretty epic,’ I lied casually as I tried to recall positive things people had said about that blasted book. ‘It’s the most complete literary compendium of human experience, don’t you think?’
Noah continued to stare at me, like he couldn’t believe his luck. ‘I agree completely.’
Changing the subject away from the book, because I didn’t know what else to say about it, I asked him what sort of new things he had tried recently.
‘Well, I went skydiving,’ he told me. ‘It’s something I’d always wanted to do and I finally did it last year.’
‘Guess what?’ I said, taking a bite of the duck spring rolls that had arrived with some Thai fishcakes. ‘I went skydiving recently as well, in Dubai.’
I had to stop myself from laughing when his jaw dropped open in surprise.
‘You really don’t look like the sort of woman who reads Ulysses and jumps out of planes.’
‘Don’t I?’ I giggled. ‘Do I look more like the Bollywood and knitting type?’
‘Ha, no. You look like the type who likes fine dining, complicated cocktails and social media.’
‘You’re lying,’ I almost choked on my drink. ‘I don’t look like that at all.’
‘You do,’ he insisted. ‘You must know that you’re beautiful. I can’t tell you how nice it is to sit and eat and talk without you feeling the need to take pictures or document it all.’
He thought I was beautiful? He liked that I wasn’t obsessed with social media? The latter, at least, was the real me, even if skydiving and Ulysses wasn’t. And that was good enough for me.
‘What else have you tried recently?’ he asked as we continued to eat.
‘Loads of things,’ I said, wondering what I should reveal next. ‘I ran Race for Life last month.’
‘Wow! A runner who’s also into charity? I feel like I’ve struck gold here,’ he gushed, his face illuminated with joy. I felt the food swirl around in my stomach and tried to push aside the guilt.
‘It’s an important cause,’ I shrugged nonchalantly, as though I had come up with the idea all on my own. ‘I did a sponsored charity walk up Snowdon not too long ago as well.’
‘No way!’ he gasped. ‘I trekked it last year. I’m hoping to do Kilimanjaro one day.’
‘Me too!’ I lied enthusiastically. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Nepal.’
