by Chloe Seager
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 9:14 P.M.
I’m even enjoying putting on makeup to go with it. I feel like I’m expressing myself, rather than just drudgingly trying to make myself look better. For a moment I actually felt sorry for the other half of the population that feel they can’t do this, rather than the other way around.
Gracie saw it and got even more moody because I look nothing like a character out of The Great Gatsby. But even she said it was nice! And she loved her “Word Wizard” jumper. She pretended like it was really lame in front of Andy and Babs (who, in his own words, “is here early ’cause the party don’t start ’til he walks in”), but there was true glee in her eyes.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 9:35 P.M.
Greg is here. Back to feeling awful about myself. Should I break up with him now?!
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 11:39 P.M.
It’s eleven thirty and I’m already minesweeping in the kitchen like a lonely, minesweeping gremlin.
When Greg got here he bent down to kiss me.
“You look amazing,” he murmured, “and your dress is really nice.”
I smiled weakly and pretended I was really interested in what Gracie was saying. Which wasn’t convincing because she was just stressing about whether her flapper headdress “looked authentic.” After a while, Greg said, “Emma, can I talk to you?”
“Err... Sure. Go for it.”
He led me by the hand to Andy’s room and shut the door. For a blissful moment I thought maybe he was going to break up with me and I wouldn’t have to worry anymore. But he didn’t.
“Why did you lie to me about what you were doing tonight?”
“I didn’t.”
“You said you were hanging out with your friends.”
“I am hanging out with my friends.”
“And about a hundred other people.”
“A hundred? You clearly haven’t seen the guest list.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you annoyed at me, Emma?”
“I don’t know...er...why might I be annoyed at you?”
“Is it because I went to that party without you? It would have been hard to bring you, because it was at a club and you don’t have ID.”
I paused. “It...could be.”
“I just don’t want our age difference to get in the way of something really good.”
Age difference!! Yes!! That’s something I can use. He’s just handing me breakup lines on a plate.
“I should go see if Gracie needs any help,” I said, and left the room. When I went downstairs she was actually struggling to put up a giant poster of a big pair of eyes, so I held one end. The room does actually look really nice. She’s got stands with little mini-macaroons and vases with feathers in and a pink champagne fountain.
Then Leon arrived.
Thoughts on Leon’s Arrival
I wonder when my Daisy will get here?
She’s here. I mean, he’s here. Leon is here. Leon is here. Leon is here.
Thank God I’m talking to Holly and not someone who cares whether I’m listening.
He’s taken off his coat and now he’s moving towards the drinks table.
He’s picking up a pink champagne.
And sipping it.
He’s been in the room for two minutes now.
And now three.
He’s turning around and OH MY GOD he caught my eye.
Just for a second everything stopped and it was like everything between us was somehow said in that look. But I don’t want to overanalyze it as, er, I have been known to misinterpret eye contact before.
Anyway, I carried on like a human-tracking device. I’m always aware of exactly where he is in the room. Even when he’s behind me. And he kept looking over at me, too. It was amazing, only constant surveillance was making my “pretending not to have a boyfriend” act a little harder. I was standing very far away from Greg and every time he came near me I pretended that I was incredibly interested in something on the other side of the room. Then I’d walk away, leaving him looking like a lost bunny... Oh God.
At this point I’m thinking, Why did I think this plan would work?? They both kept looking at me all deceived and it was making me almost feel like I might have the beginnings of a conscience. Then Greg strode towards me in a purposeful and slightly aggressive manner. I pretended to be really interested in a painting of a fruit bowl and ran over to it, but he followed me.
“Emma, why are you ignoring me?”
“What? I’m not.”
“You are, though.”
“What do you think this painter was thinking about when he painted this?”
“Fruit.”
“Interesting... Interesting... I think he was thinking about his mother.”
“Emma,” he said, grabbing my arm.
I’m not exactly Tinkerbell so I went crashing sideways into the table. Which meant, of course, that everyone started staring at us. Including Leon.
“What’s going on with you?” he pressed me.
I glanced sideways at Leon, who was frowning.
“Well, after that violent outburst, I don’t think I want to talk to you.”
“It was an accident! I’m sorry.”
“Well... Sorry doesn’t always cut the mustard, Greg.”
I walked off.
(Cut the mustard?)
And that’s how I ended up downing other people’s dirty leftover drinks in the gutter where I belong. I hope no one here has the flu. Or mouth herpes.
Gracie just came over to me and said, “Greg went home. I hope you’re happy.”
“I’m THRILLED,” I replied, trying to be sarcastic and casual, but definitely coming off like a raving madwoman by shouting and throwing my arms around.
I’m a horrible person. And a confused person. I do really like Greg. What am I doing?
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 12:29 A.M.
And now it’s half-twelve, and I’m crying alone in the garden. This party just gets better and better. Leon came over to me when I was in the kitchen. I pushed the weird potion I was making out of different people’s drinks away.
“Emma, are you OK? What happened with you and that boy? Was that Greg?”
He looked genuinely concerned.
“Yes... He, er, he’s having trouble accepting the breakup.”
He nodded.
“Well, I hope you’re OK.”
“I think I am...thanks.”
I looked into his eyes for a second too long, and he stared back. Could this really be happening?? Then he looked away and stared down at the floor.
“You looked so funny when you went flying over that table... I mean, it kind of reminded me of that hippo that fell off that truck and died, the way you just lay there.”
“I didn’t just lie there.”
“You did,” he said, laughing.
And for some reason, it wasn’t funny. In that moment I couldn’t laugh at myself. My heart snapped in two and I just stood there watching him laugh at me, getting further and further away. I felt the reality of the situation. I was “the friend” and I always would be. Someone he could liken to a fallen, dead hippo without a second thought. My eyes welled up with tears.
“Screw you, Leon,” I said, suddenly vaguely aware of my words slurring. “I wish the hippo was alive instead of you.”
And I ran off, trying not to run in a way that could be compared to another kind of lumpish animal. And now here I am. It seemed like a very good idea at the time. But it’s very cold and the house seems very far away. I’m sitting on the swing, crying silently.
Probably not silently. I’m sniffling a lot. And wailing at intervals.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 3:36 A.M.
I saw Leon step out onto the patio, looking for me. Someone pointed down the end of the garden and h
e turned around, searching the shadows. He came and sat on the swing next to me. I want to write down everything that just happened because I don’t want to forget any of it. Even the bad parts:
I’m too drunk for my heart to start pounding, or to feel nervous in any way. I just feel all sorts of things at once. Like I want to hit him and scream at him and kiss him and cradle him. But it’s bigger than him...it’s just like the world is too huge and empty but also full of too many possibilities and feelings and it’s all opening up for me and it’s too much and I’m really really alive and present in this moment but at the same time I’ve got no idea what I’m doing and I’m just kicking around like a bug on its back that can’t get up.
And for no apparent reason I just start swinging. Really, really hard, manic swinging. I’m vaguely aware of him beside me and at some point he starts swinging, too. We’re both just swinging... Swinging is a funny word. I’m not sure how long we swung for. But my brain fills with the words just keep swinging just keep swinging just keep swinging and it seems easier for a while, somehow, as if there’s no room in it for my actual thoughts.
Then I have to stop because I’m out of breath. Leon stops, too, and says, “Are you quite finished?”
“Yes,” I wheeze.
“You’re really red,” he says. “Like, really, really red. It’s dark and I can still see your face shining into the night.”
“Well...” I take a long breath. “I’m no Hockey Captain.”
“Shut up, Emma.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!”
And I start crying again. Then he gets up and stands by my swing and pushes the hair out of my face. And then he kneels in the grass and puts his arms around my waist, and rests his head on my stomach. And I breathe in his hair, which smells like bubbles and biscuits and soap all at the same time, which doesn’t sound appealing but it’s incredible. And it’s so much better in real life than when I’m walking around and think I smell it. And I’m running my hands through his soft, long dark hair and it’s not in my imagination, it’s HAPPENING.
And then somehow he’s kissing me. And it’s not just kissing like the act of kissing, he’s kissing me and I’m kissing him. It’s frantic yet soft and beautiful. And I’m a bit snotty and gross but he doesn’t seem to care, and he starts kissing the tears from my cheek and I could go on forever. I’m not aware of anything else, I’ve got no idea how long we’ve been kissing for. Sometimes we stop. And then I realize we’ve started again.
Later on, who knows how much later, we’re lying in the grass next to each other. I’m lying in the crook of his arm and looking up at the sky, which feels big in a good way, now. We’re just talking about EVERYTHING. A vague outline of our conversation:
“I’m sorry about Biology...” He sighs. “I just, I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed of what?”
“You know.”
“Of what?”
“Don’t make me say it.”
“I’m serious, Leon. I have no idea what you mean.”
He pauses. “When you came up behind me. I was...looking at your Twitter.”
I could laugh out loud at the irony.
“I didn’t see. I swear.”
We’re silent for a moment.
“When you tweeted about making dinner that time, I really wanted to come and save your fingers, by the way.”
The back of my throat prickles with tears.
“Can I ask one thing?” he says. “Why did your mum behead a stuffed camel?”
I laugh, and tell him.
“OH MY GOD. I can’t believe I missed that.”
“Me, neither.” I take a breath, and ask what I’ve been wanting to ask for four months, “Why did you?”
He looks uncomfortable. “We weren’t speaking.”
“Yes. I know. But...why weren’t we speaking?”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“I don’t know. I was upset.”
“You were upset? But you’re the one who broke up with me.”
“I don’t know, I just...felt really angry with you. For making me feel like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like... I don’t know, Emma!”
“You do know.”
“Confused, unsure. Freaked out. Confused. I don’t know.”
“I don’t know how I can have confused you. I think it’s pretty obvious that I like you. I even got a sympathy spot where you have that little mole on your cheek.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Do you like me, Leon?”
“I do like you. I like you a lot.”
“Do you like Apple?”
“Huh?”
“Appananna. Anna.”
He pauses. “I like her in a different way.”
I feel my guts wrenching and rage or vomit or both bubbling away inside me. Sound casual.
“Different how?”
“It’s easier with her.”
“Easier how?”
“Well, for one thing, she doesn’t interrogate me.”
“I’m not interrogating you. I think I deserve some answers.”
Silence. He sighs.
“You’re right. I should never have asked you to go out with me, Emma.”
I feel like someone just speared me through the stomach. I try to get up and he grabs my arm.
“No! Emma, sit down. I was worried about ruining our friendship but then it just sort of happened anyway. And when it happened I was still worrying.”
“So you thought the solution to saving a friendship would be to ignore me?”
“I thought that breaking up with you would really ruin it.”
“Leon, ignoring someone is breaking up with someone.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is. It’s just doing it in a cowardly way.”
“It isn’t. It isn’t really breaking up with someone.”
“OK, well, if ignoring me isn’t breaking up with me, then going out with someone else definitely is.”
He pauses. “I never really wanted to break up with you.”
“Well, what did you want?”
“I don’t know.”
He stays silent.
“What do you want now?”
He looks at me, and kisses me.
Then I remember us not talking for a long time. We just lie on our backs looking at the stars. Eventually, Leon says, “It’s getting cold. We should go in.”
My chest tightens at the thought of him leaving. At the thought of this ending.
“I’m not cold,” I say, shivering.
“I’ve got to go home soon.”
“OK.”
And now he’s gone home. When he left he kissed me goodbye just like we were really together.
Actually, most people have gone home. When did the party end?
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 4:08 A.M.
We’re all in Gracie’s room. Steph is listening to me babble. Faith is asleep. Gracie is irritable because she found a Malteser in her bed and keeps shhing me.
He likes me. He kissed me and he likes me. I will not go to sleep. This happiness will not be wasted on sleep. Should I have told him about my sympathy spot? Probably not.
Who cares?
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 4:25 A.M.
Three messages from Greg. I’ll just pretend I don’t see them. If I don’t read them, they could theoretically say anything, and only by opening them will I make them bad. Like Schrödinger’s messages.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 5:37 A.M.
Still up and Smiling
On the way to the bathroom, I ran into Steph in the corridor.
“Emma...what are you doing?”
“Peeing,” I said dreamily.
&nb
sp; “Great,” she said and walked past me.
I can hear myself being unbearable, if only I could care...
Then on the way back I ran into Gracie’s brother, also on his way to the bathroom. He smiled awkwardly and went past me. Hmm, even from the depths of my dark and all-encompassing self-involvement, I sense that wasn’t a coincidence.
When she came back to bed, I asked, “Steph...where were you?”
“When?”
“Just now.”
“I went to the kitchen for a drink.”
Damn, I wish I’d been paying enough attention to know whether she’d been in the room before or not. I sat up and pointed at Gracie, very attractively sleeping with her mouth open. Then I made a little penis gesture with my hand.
“Gracie has a penis...?”
“You know what I mean.”
Her eyes flashed. “OK...fine. We can’t talk about this here!!”
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 6:21 A.M.
Ten minutes later, we were sitting under Gracie’s kitchen table with a bucket of chocolate bites.
“What happened?!”
“So, he came up to me and he said he was really sorry that I had to find out about Jonno like that, but he thought I should know.”
“And??”
“And then he said he hoped I didn’t hate him.”
“What did you say?”
“I said he was just the messenger and that he did me a favor. And then he said, I hope so, because you deserve to be treated much, much better than that. And then we stared at each other.”
“And you kissed??”
“No. Then Gracie came over and asked Andy to refill the champagne fountain. She gave me a warning look.”
“Stay away from my brother or DIE.”
“Yes. That kind of look. And then nothing happened until about an hour ago, when I went to the kitchen for some water, and his light was on. And he saw me go past and came out into the hallway, and we both knew what was going to happen.”
“And??”
“Then we kissed. But it was over really quickly. We heard a noise.”
“Gracie dislocating her jaw so she could devour you like a snake.”
“That might have been it.”