Q - Oscar and Alex... A Love Story - Snippets

Oscar and Alex

Oscar still had a few minutes to kill before his interview. The
producer had pushed him into Studio Three where he'd said there was
'some comedy thing' being filmed. Stifling a yawn, Oscar looked around.
Nothing was happening yet, and the set, designed to look like the
stable at Bethlehem, was deserted. On the studio floor, however, it was
the usual brand of hysteria and mayhem. From the conversations flying
to and fro, he gathered that the programme was a comedy sketch show. He
thought about this channel's output for a moment. 'I wonder,' he
thought. He went to find the floor manager.

The interview took fifteen minutes to record. Oscar was asked the same
questions about the same subjects: 'Where do you get your inspiration?'
'Everywhere.' 'How autobiographical is your work?' 'If there was none
of myself in there, then it wouldn't be my work.' 'Are you disappointed
at missing out on the Booker?' 'Of course.' He longed for someone to
ask him which football team he supported or what his favourite movies
were. No chance. Anyway, time for Angela's surprise. He picked up his
daughter from the canteen and they waited for the red 'recording' light
to go off outside Studio Three.

"But who's recording?" Angela's questions still had that whining
quality that he had known from the moment she started to talk. She knew
it infuriated him.
"Wait and see." The sulk that was sure to follow this stock reply was
thankfully avoided because just at that moment, the red sign blinked
off and the door opened. Oscar watched his daughter's reaction. She
stood up to her full height and her face changed into a smile. The
floor manager came out.
"Okay, she's ready. If you'll follow me."
Oscar looked at Angela. She had the same look of excitement that he'd
seen a thousand times - Christmas presents, Disneyworld, that sort of
thing - and just for a second, instead of the fourteen year old in
front of him, he could see a five year old skipping up to a guy in a
mouse costume in an overpriced amusement park. His own smile broadened
at the thought. Especially since her first words to that poor
unfortunate were, "I know you're not the real Mickey, so don't bother
trying to fib."

They stood by one of the cameras and waited. They could see the floor
manager talking to someone obscured by a 'stable' door. Then the floor
manager waved and beckoned them across. Oscar looked down at his
daughter.
"Be polite."
"I'm always polite daddy."
Oscar wasn't fooled for a second by this sweet-faced, innocent
child.
"BE POLITE." His point was made.

They neared the corner just as the figure emerged. It was a woman.
Tall, very dark, slim and attractive, all in an unconventional way. Her
'tall' was almost gangly, her 'dark' was almost Egyptian, her 'slim'
was almost 'skinny', but she was attractive.
Angela recognised her immediately and stopped.
"Oh my God," she whispered, "it's Alex."
"Come on, she won't bite."
Oscar could see Angela shaking her head and muttering 'it's Alex' as
they approached. The smile was still there though.

"Hello there."

(the kid charms her into agreeing to go to a gallery opening that
evening, and back to a spliff and wine fuelled gathering of friends
back at their flat.)

*******************

It was busy in the Cavalier. Oscar struggled to push open the door and
he winced when he saw the mass of bodies inside. 'This was a mistake,'
he thought. 'I'll be lucky to see her.' He made his way into the pub.
'If she's even here,' he added.

There was no reason why Alex wouldn't turn up. The gallery went well,
the gathering was a success and he definitely felt something positive
had happened on the balcony, even accounting for the disturbing
revelation. Of course, he didn't have Angela to provide back-up, but he
was a grown man. He could handle it. He didn't feel reassured.

He saw a familiar face and a wave in his direction. It was Alex. He
wanted to swallow but he found his mouth was dry. She looked great. And
she was smiling so that was a good sign. He reached her.
"Hello you," she said, leaning in and lightly kissing his cheek. He was
hit by a gentle breeze of subtle and obviously expensive perfume. He
felt himself blush.
"Hi."
"Busy isn't it? Alex said. "We might want to move on if we plan on
having a conversation tonight."
"Yes." Oscar realised he needed a drink, if only to oil his mouth,
which still felt like a desert during a dry spell. "You look
great."
"Thank you. I was worried I may have overdressed."
Oscar stared at Alex. Her dress was cream and looked like silk, so it
was probably silk. He loved it. He looked down at his own clothes -
smart casual would have been a very polite way of describing himself.
His blush intensified.
"Can I get you a drink?" He asked.
"Vodka redbull please. I'm knackered. Maybe it'll gee me up."

Oscar pushed his way to the bar. As he ordered, he began to give
himself an encouraging speech. 'Just relax. She's here so she likes
your company. She could have said no, but she didn't. And remember,
it's not a date. How could it be? You're just two mature people having
a friendly drink. So come on bucko, relax and enjoy yourself.' He felt
a little better. 'Although you do look like a scruff.' He felt
worse.

He could see Alex watching him through the crowd as he came back from
the bar. She was still smiling. 'God, she looks great,' he thought.
Alex pushed her hand towards him to take the glass he offered.
"Thanks mate," she said.
Oscar felt his blush returning as her fingers brushed against his. 'Oh
come on. This is ridiculous,' he thought, 'you're not sixteen for
Christ's sake.'
Unfortunately for Oscar, some big guy had chosen that exact moment to
push past him on his way to the gents. As he tumbled forwards, one word
filled his mind -'NOOOOO....!'

It was at this point that he realised that it was absolutely true what
people said about time standing still in a moment of crisis. There was
no way he could keep his balance. There was no way he could move the
glass that was between them. There was no way he could say to Alex,
'look, I'm really sorry for what's about to happen. That ape pushed me.
I'm not normally such a klutz. I really like you and I hope you won't
hate me too much for ruining your dress. You do look stunning by the
way.' No, there was no time for any of this, and even if there had
been, Oscar doubted it would have been much comfort to Alex. He could
see her face contorting from smile to frown to complete horror.
Strangely, he thought to himself, 'I've seen you pull that face a
hundred times on your show. Fancy it being real.'

Oscar fell into Alex. Alex fell backwards onto a chair. They both ended
up in an uncomfortable hug. Alex wasn't smiling anymore.
"Oh God Alex, I'm so sorry," he said unwrapping himself off her.
"It wasn't your fault," she replied but then she looked down at her
dress. That beautiful cream had become a very nasty bright red.
"Oh hell, that'll never come out." He could have kicked himself. He
didn't need to say that. She was quite capable of working out for
herself that he had just destroyed her dress.
"I'll go and see what I can do," Alex said and excused herself. Oscar
just stood there in silence, trying to think of what he might say to
rescue the evening.

When Alex returned, Oscar stammered, "I'm so sorry. I really wanted to
make a good impression. I can't believe this."
Alex smiled at him.
"If it's any consolation, look at the state of me." She pointed at
herself. She did look a mess, although the nasty red was now a nasty
pink. She continued, " and I really wanted to make a good impression
too."
They both stood in silence. Then, simultaneously, they both started to
laugh. Quietly at first, but then raucously. Oscar felt himself relax
for the first time since he had asked to meet her two nights ago.
"Come on," said Alex, "you're nearer. Let's go back to yours, you can
lend me a shirt and a pair of joggers or something. Then we can go and
have a proper drink somewhere quieter."
Oscar led the way back out into the evening air.
"Wait 'til Angela hears about this," said Alex and she laughed again,
"she'll kill you."