I.
Need.
Some.
Help.
Need.
Help.
‘I know I do,’ I say. The first time I’ve ever said it. Admitting it hurts more than I’d imagined, like I’m taking off my top layer of skin with an emery board. ‘I’ve started to think that since going to the boxing classes. They’re all in therapy … But I can’t afford it.’
‘I’ll pay!’
I shake my head. ‘That’s nuts. You can’t do that.’
‘Why not? I have money. It’s stupid how much money I have. You may as well have some. That lady, the one you see at work? She does private appointments, yes?’
‘I think so … Yeah, I guess.’ It’s all got far too real far too quickly. I’ve hunched my legs up now, practically cowering into the cushion.
‘Well maybe think about setting something up. She knows your back story, which will save time.’
‘She does. I’m not sure though, Megs. I can’t take your money. You already give me such cheap rent.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘I’d pay you back in instalments, maybe? But, well, I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of Gretel yet.’
‘Are you going to keep seeing him in the meantime?’
‘I dunno.’ The thought of not seeing Joshua again feels too painful. This isn’t good. None of this is good. ‘Probably,’ I admit. ‘Is that a bad idea?’
She shrugs. ‘Probably. But I can’t tell you how to live your life. Besides, it’s not like I have a clue.’
I yawn. ‘God, I’m so tired. Can we just leave it for today, please?’
‘OK. Sorry. I love you. It’s going to be all right.’
‘I hope so.’ I curl up on my side. I’ve told someone and the reality is knackering. I don’t have anything else to give today. We un-pause Dawson’s Creek, and watch three episodes in a row. Megan is kind enough not to pry any further and grumbles instead about the launch. I grumble about my hangover. Sunday is back in perfect working order. Except it isn’t.
My phone died early this morning and it takes me until night time to summon the energy needed to shower, unpack my stinking overnight bag, find my charger and plug it in. It vibrates straight away, with a message from my boyfriend.
Joshua: How’s the hangover? When can I see you next? Xx
And sometimes in life, when there are too many emotions, and they are too strong and too conflicting to make any sense, the only feeling you can feel is nothingness. And the only way you can get through the nothingness is to carry on doing whatever the hell it is you are doing, even though you know it’s wrong.
Gretel: Sorry. Phone died. Hangover brutal. I need cuddles and attention and distraction from my pain. Any ideas?
Joshua: Umm come over right away?
Gretel: Uber already ordered x
April: GOOD LUCK FOR THE LAUNCH TONIGHT. YOU ARE GOING TO TOTALLY SMASH IT! I BELIEVE IN YOU, MY DAD, PETER PAN xxx
Megan: OMG, I totally forgot that Hook exists as a movie.
Megan: That movie was so fucking weird.
Megan: Still can’t believe hot Rufio died.
Megan: Or that in those days you were allowed to roll up a fat child and push him down a ramp as a weapon …
Megan: Anyway THANK YOU. I’m fucking bricking it and nothing is ready and I HATE that I let a stupid man distract me but hopefully it will be OK.
April: It will be more than OK. You’re amazing xxx
Gretel: Hello you. So, my housemate is out all evening doing this launch thing. Wanna come over? I’ll cook. xx
Joshua: Depends what you’re going to cook.
Gretel: Something quick so we have loads of time for sex afterwards.
Joshua: Do we have to even eat first?
Gretel: You can eat something …
Joshua: What’s the earliest I’m allowed to arrive?
Gretel: Six x
Joshua: I like you. A lot. Just so you’re aware … x
I’m back to faking my orgasms again.
Joshua’s doing exactly what he did last time, and the time before that, but it’s just not happening. I throw my hair back and make my body judder because I know there is literally no way it’s going to happen this evening. Not now I’m giving it so much thought. A female orgasm is like the opposite of a tree falling over in the woods – it only exists when you don’t think about it.
My faking sets him over the edge and we cross the finish line together, collapsing into a tumble of limbs, panting and sort of half tapping each other on the back. ‘It’s too hot for such things,’ he says.
‘You started it.’
I guess I’ve ticked off the slut box; I need to check off the nurturing box now too. ‘Give me a moment and then I’ll cook,’ I say.
‘You’re amazing.’
‘Let’s see how the stir-fry comes out first.’ I get up to pee so I don’t get cystitis, shrugging on my knickers and bra and wondering why I feel so terribly awful.
‘Can I use your shower?’
‘Sure.’
*
Joshua emerges ten minutes later, clean and damp, wearing just an open shirt and pants, his stomach bulging slightly over the elastic. ‘Wow, it smells great.’ He comes up behind me and kisses the top of my head while I’m stirring the pan.
‘It’s just stir-fry. But I chopped the vegetables myself.’
‘Such a multi-talented woman.’
‘You can lay the table if you want.’
‘Of course Your Highness.’
I grimace as he walks away. I’m mad at him and I’m finding it difficult to override. April’s pissed off for some reason and she keeps taking the steering wheel of my life. He whistles as he lays the table, and I tip the sizzling pan of gingered meat and veg onto noodles and then two matching plates. ‘Ta-da!’
‘This looks great, thank you.’ He reaches out his leg while we eat, and massages my foot with his. I try to smile back as I tuck some hair behind my ear.
‘This is really nice, Gretel.’
‘It’s just stir-fry.’
‘Yeah, but still, it’s nice.’
I bite into a miniature corn on the cob.
‘That was really nice too.’ He nods his head towards the bedroom, where you can still see the chaos of the sheets.
‘Yeah, it was great.’
‘Yeah?’ he nudges my foot again.
I arrange the smile on my face before engaging eye contact. ‘Yeah!’
‘OK.’
We talk and chew and swallow. I ask him about his day. His manager isn’t being very nice. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What a douche. You could do such a better job.’ He asks me about mine. ‘Yeah, it was OK, same old, same old.’ I do not say, ‘It feels like I can finally breathe again after I stopped doing my shifts but I feel so guilty I then lose the ability to breathe again.’
‘So where’s your housemate tonight?’
‘She’s got this huge work-launch thing. She works in jewellery PR.’
‘Cool, sounds cool. When do I get to meet her?’
Megan, coincidently, asked the same question this morning while I was checking it was OK to have Joshua around. ‘Does this mean I’ll get to meet him?’