by Lucy Vine
I desperately want to sleep, but I know there’s no chance now. Not here in Josh’s bed. I’m wide awake, all the shame of the last few days piling in on me. I’ve ruined things with my best friends and I’ve humiliated and debased myself by sleeping with revolving door Josh. What is wrong with me? This is a new life-low, an absolute rock bottom with extra spiky pebbles poking into my back. Everything has gone wrong: Sophie, work, everything. I’m supposed to be an adult, I’ll be thirty in a matter of weeks. This is when you’re meant to be getting your shit together, not watching it all fall apart.
In the distance a fog horn blares and my stomach rolls over, jealously. Damned ice cream for dinner. FFS, Eleanor, you know dairy and sex don’t mix.
I sigh into the dark. Am I really going to stay lying here uncomfortably for the next few hours? Afraid to sleep, in case I fog horn, and afraid to leave, in case he wakes up and we have to do sober sex? If I do stay here, it’ll be just as awkward in the morning anyway. He’s going to give me the speech I hear him giving to those blondes every week. Where he says how he thinks I’m great, but he’s not ready for anything more serious. How he’s emotionally damaged from his parents’ divorce when he was seventeen. How he really likes me but he’s a lone wolf.
To be fair, I don’t think he’s ever actually said the lone wolf thing, but that is the implication. It’s going to be so humiliating.
Christ, I don’t even like Josh, I can’t believe I did this! Well, hold on, let’s think about this – do I like him? I don’t think I do. Yes, he was really fun last night, but that was the alcohol and the ice cream. Everyone’s fun when you’ve drunk a bottle of wine and are singing karaoke with ice cream. We were just drunk, I was sad, and because of that, now I’m going to have to move out. And since I’ve wrecked things with Sophie and Thomas, I can’t even go and stay with them. I’ll have to move back in with Dad and watch Neighbours every day. And gah, I’m so far behind with the storylines now, I’ll never catch up. Is Paul Robinson even still alive? I can’t believe I let this happen, I’m so stupid.
OK, enough. I’m going to my own bed to fart in peace. I start to roll away, and Josh growls in his sleep. God that’s hot.
No, stop that. Shit, I really thought having sex with him would’ve knocked all that out of my system. I guess I’m even dumber than I thought.
Slowly, glacially, I slide out of his bed feeling like a hungover, naked ninja. I creep out, carefully collecting my pants and old bra (oh, my keys were in there!), trying not to stand on any of his stuff, and silently shut the door behind me. I tiptoe across to my room and close the door, letting out a huge sigh of relief – from my bum. I crawl into bed, my skin itching with shame, and swaddle myself in my own duvet like a newborn.
Staring at the ceiling, I think about what my mum would say about the decisions I’ve made over the last twenty-four hours. Over the last year, actually. I feel so ashamed. As I drift off, crying into my pillow, I wonder again how I’ve managed to mess everything up so badly.
13
9.51 a.m. Monday, 1 April
Location: Back in my subdued office, at my desk, where two of the account execs are laughing nearby about how one of them April Fooled his wife this morning by asking for a divorce. They both think this is the funniest thing ever and are crying and whacking each other on the back. There’s a huge pile of work waiting for me in my in-tray, but instead I’m just fiddling with poor, neutered Mrs Beaver, stolen from Maddie’s desk.
I somehow managed – like a total grown-up – to entirely avoid Josh all weekend. I would almost feel proud of this accomplishment, if I didn’t hate myself so much for the whole thing. When I finally woke up late on Saturday – with a killer hangover and a mouth that tasted like rotten Cheesy Puffs, Twinkies and other things I’ve heard U.S. telly talk about but have never tried so what am I even talking about? – Josh was knocking on my bedroom door. So obviously I hid under the duvet and pretended to be out until he went away. I didn’t come out until I heard him leave for the gym a couple of hours later.
Which reminds me, as well as moving house to avoid Josh, I’m also going to have to change gyms too. This would be so annoying if I ever went to the gym.
Once he’d gone, I quickly got showered, dressed and went to hide out at my dad’s with my sketchbook for the next two days. I came straight from his to work this morning, and then wished I hadn’t bothered because no one else seems to be here. Maddie’s on a last minute Airbnb holiday with her new boyfriend – the one she’s going super slowly with – along with his whole extended family. Derek’s on a management course, and he’s taken Rich the Quavers Master with him. The office gossip has it that Rich is being groomed to take over the deputy manager position, which is considered ‘big news’ apparently. Even Ursula’s off sick. Usually on a day like this I’d spend the whole day messaging Thomas and Sophie. Not today. Today I feel like I’m totally alone, with no friends. I’m so depressed, I’m even considering buying some Quavers and sucking them to death.
I’m so sick of this place. Nothing about the work challenges me any more, I sit here in a trance, day after day. I’ve stayed too long.
It was a weird weekend. When I turned up with my overnight bag on Saturday, Dad asked if I was OK – I haven’t stayed over since Tim and I split – but he didn’t push it when I said I was fine. I mostly stayed in bed, sketching. It was the only way to clear my mind and stop everything that’s happened lately crowding in on me. Dad tiptoed around, occasionally bringing me food – including a Candice special that he didn’t warn me was hers until after I’d bitten into it. Lemon and broccoli.
On Sunday he offered to cancel a date to spend the day with me, watching back-to-back soaps. He’s joined Guardian Soulmates, and had arranged dinner with a nice-looking lady called Eileen. He said Candice and Peter had helped pick her out, and he proudly showed me the profile pictures Candice had kindly printed out for him.
Obviously I insisted he went, and I got to spend most of yesterday evening on my own, wallowing in my stupid misery. Having barely slept since Thursday night, I was passed out by the time Dad got home last night, and I had to leave super early this morning to get to work on time. So I don’t know how it went with Eileen. I’ll call him in a bit.
I hope it was fun, I hope he is happy.
I sit at my desk, trying to figure out what to do with my life. I haven’t spoken to Sophie or Thomas since our huge row on Friday and the longer this situation goes on, the more it’s starting to feel a tiny bit irretrievable. They haven’t made any effort to reach out to me, they don’t seem to be missing me. Maybe they’re realising they’re better off without me in their life. It feels a bit like, if they were real friends, who really cared about me, they would’ve reached out by now, surely? They would’ve supported me more in the first place. I keep having visions of them hanging out together, just the two of them, without me. Laughing together about what an idiot I am and how glad they are to be rid of me at long last. I keep trying to remind myself that’s not really who they are, but it’s hard to shut my brain off.
Oh, I hate myself.
I should’ve just said sorry straight away. I should’ve sent a text to both of them immediately, apologising and pleading until they forgave me. Really, I should never have let myself get sucked into the row in the first place. It was so pointless. But now I’ve – we’ve all – gone so many days without any contact, it feels harder and harder to casually say I’m sorry. Our usually intensely busy WhatsApp group chat has been conspicuously silent since Friday, and I keep absentmindedly picking up my phone to check the seventy messages I’ve usually managed to miss in the space of ten minutes.
I check my phone again. Nothing.
I don’t know how to fix this. I’m worried I can’t. What happens if I can’t?
Maybe I could move to America.
It’s an idea that’s occurred to me before – there’s something so appealing about a total change like that. It would be such an adventure, starting anew, ma
king new friends, starting a whole other career. I could do anything I wanted, be anyone I wanted.
Mum’s family was American, so we all have dual citizenship. Mum and Dad made sure of that when we were young, in case we ever needed to either – in my mum’s words – ‘escape a Tory government’ or ‘Be closer to Britney’. It’s always been my plan to take advantage of that someday, try living in another country. Why not now? I’ve ruined everything here; maybe a fresh start is exactly what I need.
And it wouldn’t just be about a fresh start, it would be about being close to Jen and Milly. I miss my sister and my niece so much. I could reconnect with them, watch Milly grow up. I could stay with Jen to begin with, look for a job and a place to stay. We have other, distant relatives out there, too – maybe I could travel a bit, CouchSurf. I glance out of the window at the grey rain covering London in sheets. Imagine all the sunshine in California. All that lovely greenery. All the shiny, happy people that R.E.M. were so excited about. And it’s not like I’d be leaving a big, exciting career behind me. I pat the pile of papers on the desk in front of me. My job here at The Hales is going nowhere, I’ve heard nothing from Elizabeth in weeks and she didn’t reply to my last email. I feel such disappointment. How is this how my life has turned out? I don’t know how else to escape this cycle, other than smashing it up completely. Turning my vicious circle into an L.A.-shaped square.
But what about Dad? Could I leave him here? Maybe if he met someone. Maybe if Eileen turns out to be The One, maybe he’d be happy to get a bit of space from his needy, clingy children. I ring his mobile.
‘Hello?’ he answers suspiciously.
‘It’s Lenny, Dad.’ You know, the person whose name just came up on your phone – I don’t say.
‘Lenny? Oh my goodness, hello, darling! How are you? Are you here? Are you in your room?’ I can feel him looking over his shoulder at the stairs, up into his empty house.
‘No, Dad, I’m at work. Why would I ring yo— never mind. How was it?’ I say expectantly.
‘How was what, darling?’
‘The date! Eileen?’ I say impatiently.
‘Oh! Oh, well, darling, goodness, it’s hard to say . . . ’
That doesn’t sound too promising.
‘Well, what was she like?’ I try. ‘Was she nice? Did you find her attractive?’
‘Um,’ he hesitates. ‘Yes, she was awfully nice. Very pretty red hair.’
‘And?’
‘Um,’ he slows again. ‘I don’t think she was terribly keen on me, I’m afraid, Lenny.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, it’s a bit of a shame. She said she didn’t realise I’d be so old, and then she asked me if I’d put gel in my eyebrows and said it looked very silly. I’d only put a little in there, Lenny. Candice said it suited me.’
‘Ah, I’m so sorry, Dad.’ I’m instantly furious. Poor Dad. Why would this woman be so rude? I’ve met some horrible people in my dating life, but I didn’t realise things don’t get any better in your sixties.
‘Not to worry!’ he says with fake cheer in his voice. ‘You live and learn, don’t you, Lenny? And I’ll remember not to wear my red tie from Next for the next date I go on. Eileen said it made my face look really round and red.’
‘Dad, that’s not true, your red tie is lovely. And you’re not old and your eyebrows are great,’ I say, my voice high and indignant.
‘That’s very kind of you, my darling,’ he says, not sounding very convinced. ‘But you mustn’t worry, I’m not upset. We had a nice time anyway, it just wasn’t meant to be. Although it was a bit expensive in the end. She kept ordering champagne, which as you know, I’m not a big fan of myself.’
I can contain myself no longer. ‘What a cow! And she let you pay, obviously?’
‘Try not to use language like that, Lenny,’ he says, scolding. ‘And yes, I did pay, but I offered to. And she said it was only right because I’d let her think I was so much younger. I didn’t mean to mislead her though, Lenny. My age is right there on my dating profile. And she’s the same age as me.’
‘Dad, you mustn’t let this get to you, she’s clearly just an awful cow.’
‘Lenny,’ he says gently, warning.
‘Sorry,’ I sigh. ‘Please don’t let it put you off dating, Dad. I know you’ll meet someone wonderful. I’ll come over again this weekend and we’ll have another look at the website to see if we can find someone lovely for you. Someone who will think you’re super brilliant, and who won’t insult you and steal your money. Maybe you can even get Candice and Peter over to help choose someone again too – it would be great to finally meet them.’
Dad laughs. ‘Peter’s not much help with these things, but yes, that sounds lovely.’ He pauses, and then asks carefully, ‘You’re not coming back here again tonight then?’
‘No,’ I say, feeling determined. I need to go back to TS really, if not to be brave and face Josh, then at least to collect fresh pants.
‘OK, love,’ he says. ‘And you’re . . . you’re all right? You seemed a bit sad this weekend.’
‘I’m fine!’ I say, and then remember what Thomas said. About how I never talk about my feelings. About how I can’t even tell my lovely dad how I really feel.
‘Actually, Dad,’ I say. ‘I had a bit of a fight with Sophie and Thomas on Friday. So, yes, you’re right. I was, am, feeling a bit sad.’
‘Oh, Lenny, I’m sorry.’ He sounds it.
‘Thanks,’ I start to well up. This is why I don’t talk about things, I get emotional. I hate crying and I hate putting anything on him. He’s been through so much, he doesn’t need me weeping down the phone to him.
He goes on, ‘You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but they’re your best friends, Lenny. Nothing can change that. I’m sure it’ll be all right. You just need to talk to them, set things right. I bet they’re just as sad as you, waiting by the phone for you to call them.’
‘Maybe,’ I say, unconvinced.
‘Definitely. Why don’t you give them a call? Or pop over to see them now?’
‘Dad, I’m at work . . . ’
‘You are?’ His voice is incredulous. ‘Listen, Lenny, Sophie and Thomas love you very much, darling, just like everyone does. You are wonderful and kind and very clever. I’m so proud of you, Lenny.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ My voice breaks a bit again, I feel like none of those things.
‘This will work itself out, I promise. Is there anything else bothering you, darling? I’m here if you ever want to talk about anything at all. I’m always here for you.’
I say nothing. I’m obviously not going to tell him about sleeping with my stupid flatmate, or about the string of failed dates that have left me feeling much lonelier than I ever felt before I joined Tinder. I’m going to try and open up more, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell my dad about casual, drunken sex with scoundrel flatmates. There are limits.
Instead I say, ‘Thank you, Dad, I feel a lot better.’
‘Love you, Lenny,’ he says kindly.
‘I love you too, Dad.’
Hanging up, I take a deep breath. I do feel a little better, but I’m not ready to call Sophie. Instead, I dash off a WhatsApp message to Jen.
How would you feel about me coming to the U.S.?
Her reply is instant:
Which part?
Your part, duh. Would you be up for me coming to visit sometime soon? Or – and don’t freak out – what would you think about me actually moving there?
God, Ellie, I move a million miles away to escape you and now you want to follow me here? This is so typical of you.
She doesn’t mean it.
I reply, feeling the sting of rejection again.
Ha, OK, just a thought, I miss you and Milly though. I’d like to see you guys.
You are so needy. Just get laid already.
I wince at how recently I did, in fact, get laid and put my phone down.
Whatever Jen thinks about me going there, I need to e
scape these last few days, weeks, months. I need to escape my life and see a friendly face (Milly’s, not Jen’s). I start Googling flights from London to L.A.X. I could leave this week. Have a total fresh start, piece everything back together, regroup.
After work, I hover uncertainly at my desk. I really don’t want to go straight home to face the awkward music.
Speaking of awkward music, Elton John flashes through my head and I physically cringe into myself. I’ll go sit out on the stairwell for a bit. That will kill some time.
Out on my favourite step, I find my loo twin Nick out there.
‘Hello again!’ he says cheerfully, but he’s clearly been crying.
‘Hi, Nick,’ I say, matching his tone as I sit down next to him. ‘I haven’t seen you in the loo today, how are you?’
‘Oh, I’m not too great,’ he says, still cheerily, but his voice is cracking. ‘My wife moved out. I told her I was ready to forgive her for the affair, but she said she doesn’t love me any more. She said she would be willing to have an open marriage, but I can’t do that. I can’t cope with the idea of her continuing to sleep with Simon. I told her no way, so she’s gone to stay at her mother’s. She knows I won’t dare follow her there, her mother is the scariest woman alive, Ellie. I think it might be really over this time, I can’t believe it.’
‘Jesus.’ I’m silent for a second. ‘Nick, I’m really sorry. But, er, maybe splitting up is the right thing for you guys. I bet it doesn’t feel like it now, but I’m sure it’ll work out OK for you.’
He nods a bit. ‘I think you’re probably right, but it’s not easy.’ He laughs, his voice shaking. ‘I don’t want to be alone; it scares the shit out of me. Do you think I’ll be alone forever, Ellie?’
‘Of course you won’t, Nick,’ I say, patting him kindly on the shoulder. ‘You’re a great guy, you’ll meet someone. Someone who won’t, er, sleep with your brother. That would be better, wouldn’t it?’