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‘It depends on which kind of play you focus on.’ Lola winks, and we laugh so hard, our eyes tear up.
At least our adult playdates are going great, so are our cocktails group, to which there has been another addition: Bea. She’s Dory’s BFF from a dating site—where friendship seems to be yielding better results than actual dating, as Bea claimed.
There’s a nice balance between singles with and without kids, so not all chats are about children or about attempts to navigate the minefield called dating, although Bea is in a relationship that seems a happy one, so there’s still hope. And being around another single mom means offering a helping hand when needed, hence today’s Lola’s baby-sitting for a few hours, because Luuk is here!
After two years of texting and video calling, he’s actually here and we’ll see each other in the flesh. It also feels weird for some reason, my mind making catastrophic scenarios about us running out of things to say at some point and looking at each other awkwardly, then moving on to take in the furniture, clearing our throats while struggling to come up with the next topic. So now I wonder whether it was a good idea to not have the kids around for a couple of hours so that we can catch up, before madness erupts.
‘It’s not that they haven’t been to our place before,’ Lola says, getting on my bakfiets, leaving her one-seat bike chained onto mine, as an extra anti-theft precaution. ‘They’ll keep each other busy for a while, and Kalvin is super excited to have them over.’
After my friend leaves, I hurry to find something that floats over my mum-handles. I wasn’t one of the people who saw an opportunity to build their dream body in our two-year seclusion, and my love for Dory’s creations of the sourdough discard didn’t help. But I still have my favorite jeans that I haven’t worn in forever, and my super-soft knitted sweater in that light purple that brings out the colour of my eyes, and together with my favorite pair of earrings—one of a boy; the other of a girl figure—plus a bit of makeup, this single, thirty-seven-year-old mum doesn’t look shabby at all. Always nice to have an occasion to dress for…
I check the clock for the hundredth time, then fluff up the cushions on the couch and straighten the throw, as if I’m expecting a visit for a photoshoot from vtwonen. While I’m at it, I shuffle my feet on the carpet for hidden toy parts the vacuum cleaner might have missed—a secret I will take to my grave, swearing instead that things miraculously disappear, when we don’t tidy up, so we have to make sure they go back to where they belong. And then the doorbell rings, and I run to open, forbidding myself to stumble and trip out of sheer excitement.
There he is—all six-foot-three of him—hazel eyes crinkling as they land on mine before making a quick perusal of the rest of my body. I’m pretty sure my jaw is crawling on the floor. His jeans that cling to his thighs hint about the rest of the muscles hidden underneath that dark brown leather jacket.
‘Were those hugs only meant to be online?’ He opens his arms for me to plunge in, and I walk into his embrace as if pulled by the strongest magnet.
Luuk
Impressive, how a smart-ass comment can camouflage the nerves of being bedazzled by my friend, and hopefully also hide how my breath catches, the moment Corrie opens the door. She looks fucking stunning in that subtle Corrie way, like silk and stardust blended together. When she walks into my arms, her baby-powder like perfume, which if memory serves me right is new, engulfs me and let’s just say that I would have no objection whatsoever if time stopped for a minute or a hundred, so that I can keep her flush against my body, leave my arms wrapped around her, rest my chin on the top of her hair.
‘It’s so great to finally see you.’
Her voice, muffled against my chest, resonates in every cell and does funny things to my heart that’s galloping right now. ‘Great to see you, too.’
I realise there are two someones missing from this scene, so I lift my head to look further inside the house. Corrie realises it and explains, ‘They are with Lola and Kalvin. She’ll bring them back in a couple of hours.’
‘Oh…’ As much as I was looking forward to seeing the kids, I can’t not relish the idea of spending one-on-one time with her in the same space.
Corrie mistakes my brief reaction for disappointment, so she pats my chest. ‘You’ll get enough time with them before they go to bed. Come on in!’
The spot is cold without her touch, when she turns around to lead the way. She gives me the non-virtual grand tour as we head for the living room, and it’s funny how the rooms seem familiar and new at the same time. I can feel and smell and sense the presence of Corrie and the kids making it a haven.
We sit at the large kitchen table, ‘Decorated with the masterpieces of the two grand masters,’ as the proud mom of said masters declares, pointing at the marker drawings. She springs up again to make coffee, allowing me to watch her.
She turns towards me while waiting for the beverage to percolate. ‘Your hair is shorter.’
When she ruffles it playfully, I feel the shivers right into my bones. ‘Lockdown hair is out of style.’
‘True. Never before have hairdressers been more appreciated.’
Shortly after, Corrie joins me at the table. ‘So… how have you been?’
I take a sip of the hot liquid. ‘Things have been great. I have a manager who has signed me up to a great label. My first album will come out in a few months.’
Her hands dart across the table to cover mine, one resting on the drawings, one holding my mug. I’m glad I’ve saved the news for now, although I’ve been dying to tell her.
I fill her in about Aaron, my manager, and how supportive he is; how music was my outlet during the isolation with Dad. All the while she doesn’t break contact with my hand. Instead, she tightens her grip when I mention Dad, but we’re both determined to focus on the success, or at least the important milestone, since the grief won’t go anywhere, regardless of the change of its intensity.
‘So, what’s new here?’
‘Not much has changed: I enjoy work for what it is, at least for the time being; Oma en Opa dag is a weekly thing now…’
‘Way to go, Iris and Hendrik! Good that they won’t let their daughter burn out.’
She cocks an eyebrow but knows I’m right. Iris’s intervention happened after Corrie almost collapsed one day from exhaustion. So her parents claimed their grandparents rights, and now there are sleepovers once a week that also allow Corrie to meet her friends, usually for cocktails.
Carried on by the conversation, we almost jump up when the doorbell rings. Shortly after, the kids come running in to check the surprise they were promised.
