by Helly Acton
‘Oh, thank fuck for that!’ June blurts out. ‘You actually had me worried for a second. No, of course I can’t imagine you in a couple, the idea makes my head hurt.’
‘Second option?’ Millie asks.
‘Second, you slide his brains out and hope it’s enough to scratch the Ben itch. The B-itch, ha! Anyway, hopefully when you wake up next to him he’ll have bad breath or that white crusty dribble that looks like dried-up mozzarella juice. Maybe you could be a terrible slide on purpose. Adopt a weird fetish, like humming the national anthem or screaming your own name in his face.’
‘Third option?’
‘Wait it out and see if your feelings pass. Like I said, I’m sure they will. Eventually he’ll quit trying, and then one day you’ll wake up and realise you haven’t thought about him for a while. He’ll just be someone that you used to know.’
‘All that does is make me feel sad,’ Millie mutters.
‘I could keep you distracted by texting, calling and visiting you constantly,’ June suggests.
‘You do that now.’ Millie squints at June.
‘I could send you some revolting visuals to speed things up. Ben picking underneath his big toe and wiping it on your sofa, perhaps?’
‘June!’
‘Ben picking his belly button, rolling the fluff in his fingers and leaving it on your keyboard?’
‘Why does he have to pick anything?’
‘If none of the above works, there’s always a fourth option. One that’s been staring us in the face.’
‘Which is?’
‘You could take a course of Oxytoxin.’
‘Very funny,’ Millie says. ‘I don’t think it’s quite come to that yet.’
In truth, it’s not the first time that taking Oxytoxin has crossed Millie’s mind.
Thirty-One
When Millie and Ben walk into the boardroom on Monday, they’re greeted by a pharmacy of different Oxytoxin pill packages, posters and leaflets. Sasha is standing proudly at the top of the table in a white lab coat while two of the creative interns scurry around her to put everything in place. Tomorrow she’s presenting their campaign ideas for Oxytoxin to three big cheeses who are flying in specially from Human in San Francisco. Millie is secretly pleased it won’t be her. Judging by the crappy start to her week, she’d stuff it up by randomly choking on her own spit, getting the hiccups mid flow or forgetting what the pills are called.
‘Welcome to the Oxytoxin pop-up shop!’ Sasha crows, spreading her arms out wide. ‘A temporary store that offers everything you need to protect yourself from the trappings of romantic love. Interested, you two?’
Millie blanks her.
‘Wow,’ Ben says, running his finger over the table as he examines the products. ‘Talk us through them.’
‘Well, here you’ve got Oxytoxin Pros, the love suppressant for professionals who want to focus on fulfilling their goals.’ Sasha holds up a matt black pill packet with a glossy pink embossed logo of a heart with a line through it. ‘We wanted to give it a sexy, discreet, premium feel.’
Millie and Ben nod as they step towards the next product.
‘Next, you have Oxytoxin Twos, the love suppressant for couples who are struggling to handle the financial, practical, social and logistical complexities that their relationship brings,’ Sasha says, holding up a plain white packet with grey font on it. ‘We kept this functional. It even comes with a fridge magnet on the back, so busy parents can keep it in sight and in mind. We all know how distracting kids can be!’ She chuckles. ‘Who’d have them?’
Ben moves on before she finishes, and stares at the poster in front of him.
‘Who’s this?’ he asks, frowning.
‘That’s our school campaign. I want these posters in every school across the UK on launch day,’ Sasha says with a smug grin.
Millie marches across the room to the whiteboard and grabs the eraser. She spins round, runs at Sasha and wipes the eraser across her face until the smug grin has gone and all that’s left is a mess of multicoloured smudges and a look of horror.
Millie steps forward and looks at the poster of two teenagers staring defiantly into the lens.
‘That’s Taylor and Avery, our manufactured pop duo Tave. Not only are they going to be the faces of Oxytoxin Teens, they’re bringing out an album that discourages teens from falling in love called Love is for Losers. Cool, huh?’ She smiles with her mouth open and her chewing gum visible.
‘Not that cool if it leads to bullying,’ Ben mutters, ‘which it inevitably will.’
‘Very cool if it leads to fewer kids getting distracted and dropping out,’ Sasha responds.
‘Because it’s obviously impossible to be in love and achieve your life goals?’ Ben asks.
‘It makes it much harder. With Oxytoxin Teens, teens around the country will get a helping hand at eliminating all the stress that comes with being in love, and can focus instead on securing their future. We considered targeting parents with this one, but we decided that might be frowned upon. You know, teens are almost consenting adults. We certainly wouldn’t want a backlash. But if we can make teenagers want it, we’re winning.’
Millie can’t help but admire the approach. She thinks back to Deion and wonders how he’d feel about Tave. His feelings seemed too strong to be turned by a fake teen group. Her heart sinks when she imagines him losing the support of his peers, being branded a loser and sinking further into the pit of unhappiness he seemed to be stuck in with his dad. She suspects it’s his unhappiness that’ll screw up his future, not his relationship.
‘What the actual fuck is this?’ Ben says loudly.
Millie turns to see him holding up a plastic ostrich.
‘Ah, that’s Oxy the Ostrich!’ Sasha laughs. ‘The design isn’t finalised yet. He needs a bigger mouth and loads more feathers.’
And a bold red lip, Millie thinks, amused that Sasha can’t see the resemblance.
‘But what is it for?’
‘For dispensing the pills, silly!’ Sasha responds. ‘We’re calling it Oxytots, and it’ll be aimed at the preschool market.’
‘That’s pretty fucked up.’ Ben stares at her.
‘Parents have a duty to do the best for their kids, and make the decisions for them until they have the mental capacity to choose for themselves.’
‘The problem here isn’t that kids could end up falling in love. It’s the cowards who fear it. I don’t know what trauma you suffered in childhood to make you promote this monster in the first place, but you need help. Talk to someone. Your dream is a nightmare. Preventing kids from being themselves? Forcing teens to take pills because of peer pressure? Suggesting couples are financially irresponsible? Can’t you see how dangerous and reckless that is, Sasha?’
‘No, I can’t,’ Sasha says defiantly, crossing her arms. ‘Oxytoxin gives people a choice and offers parents peace of mind. Would you really deny them that?’
‘How is this giving kids a choice? You’re telling people there’s something wrong with them if they fall in love by creating a “cure”. That they need treatment. Falling in love won’t be a choice if you create a cultural belief that says love stops you from succeeding at school, in your career, in your social life. It’s not a choice when you’re made to feel defective if your decision is different to everyone else’s.’
‘Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Ben,’ Sasha says. ‘But in the next twenty-four hours you’re going to have to put your personal beliefs to one side because you’re presenting the strategy across all four of these products.’
‘Fuck that. Find someone else. I’m having nothing to do with this,’ he says angrily, throwing the ostrich down on the table and storming out of the room.
‘Ben?’ Sasha shouts after him.
He turns round at the boardroom door with a face like thunder.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Sasha smirks.
Ben shakes his head, takes the couples deep-dive research from under his arm and
tosses it onto the boardroom table.
‘Like you haven’t got this already,’ he says, before turning and marching out the door.
Millie looks at Sasha.
‘Well,’ Sasha says. ‘Looks like you’ll be presenting after all.’
@milliej:
you OK?
@milliej:
tea?
@milliej:
hello???
Later that afternoon, Millie returns to the boardroom to start familiarising herself with the surroundings for the pitch. Millie wonders if he thought she would follow him. Yet another sign of their differences. Millie would always see a project through. She’d never abandon a team. She might . . . loke Ben, but today he showed a volatile side that she’s not sure she likes at all. Millie doesn’t do drama. All she wants is for her life to return to normal. Perhaps it’s time for Millie to kick Ben off her hamster wheel. He’s making it dangerously close to spinning out of control.
Millie wanders behind the Oxytoxin Pros station and runs her fingers over the black packets. Looking towards the glass wall, she slowly lifts one up, slips it into her pocket and leaves.
Thirty-Two
Are you in a couple?
Do you feel as if your life is out of control?
Are you craving the sweet taste of the single life?
It’s time to start your life over.
We’re searching for applicants for Season Two of Single Me Out!
Apply anonymously on singlemeout.com
And now, back to the moment we’ve all been waiting for!
Millie pauses mid-scrub of the kitchen sink to watch Single Me Out! winner Blake accept her Starting Over Single prize money and reunite with her family and friends on the show’s finale. She looks radiant as she accepts bouquet after bouquet, beaming into the blizzard of camera flashes that erupts from the crowd. You wouldn’t think it was the same person from a month ago, who first appeared on the cameras looking stale and grey. Being single suits her. She’s got the glow of someone who doesn’t have to deal with someone else’s issues anymore.
Millie blows her hair out of her eyes and returns to scrubbing the stains off her kitchen sink, the last on her list of to dos in this three-hour-long deep clean. Removing every trace of grime that’s gathered in the past month is her way of grabbing the wheel and getting her life back on track. Of pressing the reset button to life before Ben. It was a better time, she convinces herself, when her professional reputation was intact and she was on her way to achieving her dream job. She knows she agreed to her and Ben’s strategy of targeting consenting adults only, but had she been working alone, perhaps she wouldn’t have shied away from expanding the range and scale of Oxytoxin. Perhaps she’d be sitting in Ruth’s seat, instead of with the interns, who earlier today spent an hour debating whether black velvet chokers were in or out. Millie followed along, uncharacteristically doe-eyed and giggly. Still, she has no one but herself to blame.
When Millie’s phone starts ringing, she doesn’t answer it. Only two people ever call her, and she’s not willing to speak to one of them right now. Vivian’s been pushing her to apply for an executive creative director position at Big, her agency, with daily calls to remind Millie that her career clock is ticking. That time is running out. That she needs to hurry up, because once she hits thirty, she’ll be left on the office shelf. Because people over thirty don’t have their finger on the pulse where the young are concerned. But Millie would rather stick pins in her eyes than work for her mum. She gets enough pressure from her at home. When the kitchen sink is sparkling clean, Millie pings her gloves off and picks up her phone.
June:
Big news! Call me! Excited!
Millie calls immediately and switches the kettle on in preparation for a long conversation. When June answers, Millie can hardly hear her for the thumping music in the background.
‘June?’ Millie says loudly, as if she’s there herself.
‘Millie!’ June shouts down the phone.
‘Where are you?’ Millie yells.
‘We’re at a bar! On a Monday! Where aaare you?’ June shouts back, dragging out her words.
‘Who’s we?’ Millie asks.
‘The team, we’re celebrating! Millie, I did it! I’ve been made partner! I have my own office with a big glass window!’
‘June!’ Millie shrieks. ‘That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you! I’m taking you out to celebrate this weekend, so don’t you dare go and give yourself a four-day hangover.’
‘OK, I’ll just have a five-day party instead,’ she says. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m good! I’m blitzing the flat,’ Millie says.
‘And I’m blotto!’ June replies, laughing.
‘You deserve it!’ Millie shouts, hearing June’s assistant Jonathan call her in the background.
‘Now get off the phone and go and have fun,’ Millie says.
Millie smiles as she puts her phone down. Of course, she’s thrilled for June, who’s been desperate to make partner for the past two years. So why does she feel so deflated? Probably because June’s promotion only serves to remind Millie that she didn’t get one. That, for the first time ever, her life isn’t moving forward. She feels like a failure. She shakes the dark thought from her head, replacing it with a promise to pick herself up. Whining won’t get her anywhere.
Millie and June weren’t allowed to whine when they were little. Vivian taught them that finding a solution to a problem should be the first response, not complaining about it. And God help you if you cried. She wouldn’t shout. She’d just stare at you with her cool blue eyes until you exhausted yourself, calmed down and eventually stopped. Her mum has always been fearless, self-reliant and confident of her own worth. A force to be reckoned with. At eighteen, she started in the post room of London’s biggest advertising agency. At nineteen, she convinced a creative director to accept her as an intern in the creative department. At twenty-two, she took his job. And at twenty-eight, she opened the doors to her own agency.
The doorbell rings, making Millie jump. She rinses and dries her hands and makes her way to the hall, brushing her hair back with her fingers before opening the door.
‘Hi,’ he says.
‘Hi,’ she replies.
‘Can I come in?’ Ben asks. ‘I won’t be long. I just want to chat.’
‘Yeah, of course,’ she responds, wondering why he’s carrying a duffle bag, and feeling pleased that her flat is spotless.
‘Wow,’ Ben comments, looking around at her blank walls and bare shelves. ‘I had my suspicions that you were a hoarder, but this is mind-boggling. How do you keep your focus with all this clutter?’ He points at a blank wall.
‘Well, it makes it easier to clean,’ she replies.
‘My strategy is to hide the filth by displaying everything I own.’ He shrugs.
Suddenly Ben’s eyes bulge open, his mouth expands and he lets go of his duffle bag. Millie looks down to see Bruce’s claws lodged in the top of one of his trainers from beneath the hall drawers.
‘Bruce!’ she shouts, crouching down to detach the paw. ‘I’m sorry, he does it to everyone.’
‘I guess that makes me feel better,’ Ben says, wincing as he limps over to the sofa and slumps down, rubbing the top of his foot. ‘If anyone back home asks why I’m limping, I’ll just say I was fighting crime. Very dangerous crime.’
‘Well, Bruce is the neighbourhood thug, so it wouldn’t be too far from the truth,’ she says, then realises what he’s said. ‘Home? Hence the bag?’
‘Yep,’ he says, sitting back up.
‘Tea?’ she asks, breaking his stare to step into the kitchen and switch the kettle on.
‘Please,’ he says. ‘And then let’s talk about how I handed in my notice earlier.’
Millie slams the mugs down on the counter and spins round just as the kettle reaches boiling point. ‘You quit? When?’
‘That was a dramatic reaction!’ He laughs. ‘You’d make a good soap star.’
/> ‘Well, that was a dramatic announcement!’ she cries, turning her back to him to fill the mugs in silence, the teaspoon clinking against the china.
Millie’s head is spinning. Is this a good thing? It should be a good thing. Perhaps Ben leaving is the fix she’s been looking for. Out of sight, out of mind. She should be relieved. She should be. No more tea in the kitchen. No more lunch roulette. No more impossible hangman puzzles on the office messaging system. No more fun. No more reason to be there herself. Then again, no more crazy thoughts running through her head.
‘After the meeting,’ Ben says, moving to the kitchen stool closest to her. She puts the tea down and leans next to him on the island. Millie from five minutes ago would be sounding the alarm bells. After all, she’s just spent the last three hours pledging to distance herself from him. Now she’s drawing closer. The truth is that when Ben is in the same room, all she wants to be is right by his side. Well, even when he isn’t in the same room.
‘How long are you going home for?’ Millie asks, trying to be nonchalant.
Ben stares at her with soft eyes and a smile that says sorry.
‘I’m on a one-way ticket, Belle,’ he replies. ‘I don’t think I’m coming back.’
‘Oh!’ Millie says. ‘But when did you . . . ?’ She doesn’t complete the sentence.
‘I’ve been thinking of leaving Human for a while now, even before I got Ruth’s call for an interview at Slide. I really liked the sound of her, so I thought I’d give it one last shot with a move to London. But, as you can probably tell, it’s not the kind of company I want to work for. This Oxytoxin project was the nail in the coffin. I should have walked after our first meeting. I think you know that the only reason I stayed for as long as I did was because of you. So, thank you for making my month here bearable,’ he smiles. ‘Very bearable, in fact. I’ve had more fun in the last month than I have in a long time.’