She cries and talks, cries and talks. Tea is made multiple times, and left unsipped, what with all the crying. Sometimes she’ll say, ‘Sorry, I’ve not even drunk any of that tea,’ and I make more, but then she’s crying too much when I get back with the fresh cup that it goes cold once more. The heat permeates the flat. We stay in our pants and T-shirts. I feel Joshua all over my body, inside my body. I want a shower but I can’t leave her when she’s like this. We psychoanalyse every minute interaction between her and Malcolm, looking for red flags she ignored, signals she could’ve picked up on. We pore over every detail she managed to glean about him in their time together. His parental blueprint, past girlfriend history, the ethos of the boarding school he went to.
‘He’s right. I never did meet his friends,’ Megan ponders, finally managing to take a sip of tea. ‘And he never called me. It was always me calling him. I thought I was being all modern and pro-active. But actually I was just shoving my heart and vagina on a plate for him to rub into his ego and ejaculate inside.’
‘That’s quite a descriptive metaphor, Megs.’
‘Sorry. It’s true though. That’s all I was, wasn’t it? God knows what lies he’s telling himself about what just happened to make him “the good guy” in this situation, but it’s clear enough, isn’t it? I was obviously developing feelings for him, and he was eking out how long he could get away with fucking me and having me cook him dinner before I mentioned it, so he could argue we’d never even talked about it.’ She looks up at me. ‘I feel so worthless, April.’ The fact that she is no longer crying almost makes me sadder. ‘What’s wrong with me, that I get myself into these situations time and time again?’
I shake my head. It’s not like I know the answers. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you.’
‘Maybe I am just crazy.’
‘You’re not! Who is this cool girl who just totally goes with the flow and doesn’t want to label it, and is really easy-going, and doesn’t worry about having children before her eggs run out, or where a relationship is going, and wants to feel safe she’s not wasting her time with an arse? Show me to her. Because she doesn’t exist.’
Even though I’m pretending to be her, so maybe she does exist. Is every woman who is doing well romantically just pretending to be Gretel?
‘I miss him.’ The tears start up again.
‘You will for a while.’
‘Why did I do this? I was so happy a month ago.’
I squeeze her into a hug. ‘It’s a normal and natural thing to want a relationship,’ I tell her. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you for hoping this was it. He’s just an overgrown man-child.’
‘He is. Why did I pretend he wasn’t?’
‘Because you wanted to believe.’
It’s getting dark by the time she’s fully calmed down again. Late. We open the windows to try to let in some cooler air. I made her delete his number because we know what she’s like. We’ve agreed she needs to focus on making her jewellery launch the best thing that’s ever happened. I tell her about the boxing class and she perks up. ‘That’s great, April. Oh my God, I’m so glad you’ve finally found something that helps.’
‘Well, it’s only been one session, but still.’
She hugs me, then starts setting up Dawson’s Creek. It’s only when we’re sitting back down, her head resting on a cushion in my lap, that she remembers. ‘Hang the fuck on.’ She twists up to look at me. ‘I was in blackout mode so almost forgot. Who the hell was that actual man in your bedroom?’
My fingers pause in her hair. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Him.’
‘Him? Him? How the hell did I not know there was a him?’
I don’t know what to tell her about Joshua. I’ve not had time to think through Joshua and last night yet.
‘I just … er … brought him home last night. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘But you always want to talk about it.’
‘Please, not tonight.’
And she must be really upset because she doesn’t push me on it. ‘OK then.’
The night turns inky outside, and we watch a teenager with a prominent forehead cry so that we can better forget our own problems.
April: Do you think Joshua is like all the others?
Gretel: Yes.
April: But what if he’s different?
Gretel: None of them are different.
April: But he might actually be different. He’s kind, he talks about his feelings, he calls when he says he’s going to call …
Gretel: Because you’re pretending to be me! The fact that he’s falling for it is proof that he’s like the others.
April: But I stormed out of that dinner. I was difficult and not easy-going, and he came over and didn’t seem to mind.
Gretel: Yeah, about that. Don’t fuck up like that again, OK? You really showed me up, bitch. Don’t let your pathetic trauma rub off on me like that again, OK? You really could’ve messed things up.
April: So Joshua is just like Malcolm and Simon and all the others?
Gretel: Yes!
April: It’s just, with him, it feels …
Gretel: Feels what? Different?
April: Yeah.
Gretel: April, sweetie, how many times have you given your heart away to some pathetic useless man-child because you convinced yourself it felt different?
April: Err …
Gretel: That’s what I thought. And, let me guess, the more you got to know them, the more evident it became that they weren’t different at all? You came away feeling lesser and scared and like you were crazy for wanting normal things? And yet, because you’d decided they were different, you hung on and got more and more hurt.
April: Stop it!
Gretel: What? Telling the truth?
April: Yes.
Gretel: Nope, babes. Sorry. You need to hear this. Stop thinking a man will be different for you when you are so messed up. Your damage is unlovable. You are unlovable.
April: Please, stop … This isn’t fair.
Gretel: I know hon, but this is why you have to carry on being me. This is the only way you’ll feel you have any power at all.
April: I don’t want power, I want to be loved.
Gretel: People love people with power. Anyway, I thought you let go of love? I thought you’d freed yourself of that?
April: I thought so too, but then … He’s so nice.
Gretel: Because you’re not being yourself.
April: I am a little bit.
Gretel: Go on then! Tell him about Ryan. Tell him about the rape. Get out your dilators. Cry on him and tell him all the horrible things you’ve been through. Sob and weep and cling to him, like you secretly want to. Vomit up all your pain and trauma. Beg him to make you feel safe. Beg him to write down a schedule of all the big promises of commitment he’s going to make to you and when he’s going to make them, to the minute, and get him to sign it with his blood. Show every inch of your needy, gross self. Do it all and then demand he love you forever. See how that works for you.
April: Surely maybe—
Gretel: And have you forgotten the hugely important fact that YOU HAVE LIED TO THIS MAN ABOUT EVERYTHING?! How can you explain that to him? Men don’t want anything real. Joshua only likes you because you’re not real. Megan was real with Malcolm, and look what’s happened to her. And she’s a million times less broken than you.