The House Mate

by Nina Manning

  I found my way back into the house around lunchtime. I was feeling the beginnings of hunger. Only Mini was about.

  ‘Where’s everyone else?’ I asked her.

  ‘Karen and Steve got “stuck in town” – translation, stopped for a pub lunch. Sophia has gone to Oxford Street to buy an outfit. What will you wear tonight, Regi?’ Mini was pulling salad items from the newly organised fridge, which I was surprised to see still remained fairly clean and tidy, although secretly I was already looking forward to cleaning it again. I considered Mini’s question of outfits, then it suddenly struck me that recently my social schedule hadn’t warranted any clothes that went beyond one choice. These days I had unconsciously begun wearing a uniform of sorts: jeans, floaty shirt, Converse trainers or Doc Martens and my trademark tie-dye scarf to push my face into when I didn’t fancy eye contact.

  ‘I don’t really have anything,’ I said ashamedly as I looked at Mini who was dressed in tight blue skinny jeans, black bodysuit and a silk wrap cardigan. What she was wearing for a casual afternoon around the house was the kind of thing I would have worn for a night out.

  ‘There’s a really cool clothes shop just down the high street, it’s near to the preloved shop? Do you know it?’ Mini said.

  I did know the shop she was talking about, but the thought of having to spend any more time perusing shops today after the events of the morning down at the mews was not eliciting any excitement. I had intended to rush out, grab the table and come back. But Mini’s comment suggested I should make an effort. It was her birthday party after all.

  As I pulled on my boots and hat, it occurred to me that this was the first time in years that I had participated in any kind of celebration. I hadn’t even acknowledged my own birthdays and had let this year’s one slip by without any of the girls knowing. The only person who had reached out to me, I wished that they hadn’t. Maybe I would go down to the shop as Mini had suggested and pick out an outfit. But the thought of treating myself, doing something to make myself feel and look better, wasn’t sitting right with me, as usual. As much as I tried to focus on the fact that I was also doing this for Mini, to help her celebrate her birthday, my mind was working on overdrive. This time I was trusting what it was telling me: you don’t deserve any of this.

  11

  Then

  You don’t deserve any of this. His words rang loudly in my ear, long after he had left the flat, and I was alone with only my feelings. I was trying to unpick his words that were echoing around the empty rooms I wandered through, making me rethink every sentence I had uttered before his anger surfaced.

  I looked at the grey velour sofas and crystal chandeliers, the furniture he had ordered and had delivered without me having any say. I thought about the strange foreign spicy foods and bottles of lager in the fridge that he insisted I order. I heard his words again.

  You don’t deserve this.

  I wondered if I should have written down everything I had said. Perhaps I should have started recording our conversations when I could sense his anger rising. Maybe then I could work out where I kept slipping up. Surely, after all this time, I just needed to know him a little better, dance around his outbursts, try to meet his needs a little better.

  Maybe it was me? My period was due. I could feel it coming, and I was frustrated because I didn’t want it; I wanted to be pregnant again.

  His words rang loud and true. I didn’t deserve anything he gave me. He provided for both of us, and I was acting selfishly.

  He had come home from work and I had been feeling sorry for myself all day. I was tired and hormonal.

  It had been hot in the flat all day and he had started restricting the times and hours I went out. So I drew the curtains to keep the heat away, and I must have fallen asleep. I woke to the sound of the front door slamming.

  I sat bolt upright and looked around at the mess I had intended to clear up, and I thought about the dinner on the side I had intended to cook.

  After he had shown me how upset he was with his fists, I lay on the floor as I always did after he had left the flat. I lay there thinking that it would all come together in time. Time was all we needed. We hadn’t been together very long; we were still learning about each other. I was young; I hadn’t been in a relationship before. He was older than me by ten years. He understood women, as he told me regularly.

  Later that evening, still alone in the house, I picked out my favourite film, Maid in Manhattan, and curled up on the sofa. I looked at the bruises on my arms. I was already anticipating the burst of a rainbow-hued bouquet that came after the violent purple. I found beauty in the colours, knowing they were already fading.

  The bruises would come and go. But my soul was broken beyond repair.

  Instagram post: 4th May 2019

  Hello, my cleaning crew, I hope you don’t mind me popping on here again today. I just have so much cleaning stuff going on right now. I just remembered I have my cleaning caddy all lined up ready to go which is packed to the brim with all my favourite sprays and room spritzers. I am going to start by stripping my sofa cushions, then I’m moving on to the skirting boards and radiators. No corner will escape me this month. By next month, the place will be well and truly gleaming. I have been in hibernation for far too long and now it’s time to wake up and start smelling the sweet scent of air fresheners and upholstery cleaners. Do I hear a hell yeah? Send me your pics on stories and hashtag it #springmrsclean

  Mrs C x

  #springclean #mrsclean #spring #cleaning #cleanstagrammer

  134,989 likes

  maybebaby You’ve just reminded me I need to strip my cushions too. Thanks, Mrs Clean.

  barbellsandbooks I have zero energy to do any cleaning today so I’ll enjoy watching the results of your labour.

  jcaraballo09 Hell yeah!

  lucybest65 I just don’t understand how anyone can get a thrill out of cleaning their radiators. Surely she’s a young woman – I know we don’t get to see her and she prefers a certain amount of anonymity, but come on! Hasn’t she got something else she’d rather be doing? Wiping down your radiators on a Saturday?

  dreadlockginger Whatever floats your boat, innit?

  12

  Now

  I dragged myself out to the shops. Knowing that I only had to go as far as the next high street was some sort of comfort. Shopping had never been my idea of entertainment. I used to be an organic fun kind of girl: reading, long walks in the woods, conversations by the campfire at night. What was I now except a shell of that woman? I missed her from time to time and the pure rapture I would gain from such simple activities.

  The clothes store that Mini had mentioned was easy to find and right next door to the preloved shop, and so I decided to have a quick browse and collect the table from next door on my way home. I had noticed the clothes shop plenty of times, but the thought of going in and trying on clothes, perusing the rails and racks filled me with an unbridled sense of doom.

  The bell pinged as I let myself in through the front door. The woman behind the counter wore a bright-pink piece of cloth as a bandana. Her cheeks were rosy, as though she spent a healthy amount of time outdoors. She looked slightly older than me, maybe early forties, and she greeted me with a hello and smile that made me feel we could have been friends in another life.

  ‘Just let me know if you need any help,’ she spoke softly with a slight husk.

  ‘Okay, thanks.’ I tried to match her soft tone.

  The shop was a bit of a mixed bag from incredibly unique and independent labels to a selection of Boden pieces in the corner.

  I picked up a shirt that looked like it could be my size, then I looked at the rack of shoes that were next to the window. I was just picking up a flat red shoe in a six when I was startled by banging on the window. I looked up and was surprised to see that Will from uni was standing outside, waving like a lunatic. He did a funny thing with his hand, indicating that should he come in, or I should go out, then before I knew it, the bell pinge
d and he was in the shop. I felt a wave of embarrassment at us meeting under such intimate conditions. I considered the claustrophobic surroundings, the one exit where Will was standing, blocking it, then the red shoe in my hand and the shirt flung over my arm. He was now assessing my potential purchases, things I hadn’t even decided if I liked yet. I felt a furious fluttering in my stomach that rose into my chest, constricting my breathing.

  ‘Regi,’ he sounded out of breath even though he had only been standing outside, ‘how are you?’

  I quickly looked down at my white Converse trainer boots, which looked more than ‘a little’ scuffed.

  ‘I’m good.’ I managed to look back up at him. ‘Do you, er, live around here?’ I tried not to sound suspicious at our meeting here.

  ‘Marlon Street, two roads down from here. You?’

  ‘Yeah, a few roads down, the other way.’ I feebly pointed to my right. I had no intention of telling him the name of my road.

  ‘I saw you walk in. Sorry, hope you don’t mind me bashing the window like that – hope I didn’t scare you.’ Will was rushing his words. He was wearing his trademark denim jacket with a hood. ‘How’s it going? Spot of shopping?’ He pointed to the shirt draped over my arm. ‘It’s nice. Suits you.’ He raised his eyebrows really quickly and flashed a smile.

  I sniffed out a laugh. ‘I haven’t even tried it on.’

  ‘Well, I can tell. You’d suit anything.’ He smiled.

  I heard the shop assistant clicking her pen on and off and occasionally typing something on the keyboard in front of her. I stole a glance at her, wondering what she was making of this awkward meeting.

  ‘So what brings you… here?’ I asked.

  ‘Just a few errands. How about you?’

  ‘I’m picking up a table from the shop next door. And obviously, a party outfit,’ I said, looking at the shirt. ‘Although now I’m not so sure…’ I trailed off.

  ‘Oh no, you should give it a go. Why not try it on? I have an eye for women’s fashion.’

  I looked at him questioningly.

  ‘I mean, I have three sisters, so girls’ clothes, it’s kinda all I’ve ever known.’ He pointed to the shirt. ‘What have you got to lose?’

  I looked at the price tag. ‘Thirty-nine quid?’

  The shop assistant cleared her throat.

  ‘What’s the occasion again?’

  ‘My house mate is turning twenty-one.’

  ‘Oh yes, the student house party, that’s right. Twenty-one, my God. I can barely remember what I was doing then. Something highly illegal probably.’ He laughed, and I smiled at the infectiousness of it. I briefly cast my mind back to when I was twenty-one. I knew I was dealing with things that were way above what a girl my age should have been dealing with.

  We stood looking at one another for a moment.

  ‘The changing rooms are just over there.’ The voice of the shop assistant reached us.

  ‘Okay, I’ll just…’ I walked past her and she gave me a knowing smile before I disappeared into the changing room. I pulled the curtain to and adjusted it so no cracks were showing. I pulled off the top I was wearing and carefully folded it and put it on the bench. I could hear Will approach the till and begin to make small talk with the shop assistant. He was asking her how long the shop had been there.

  I pulled the shirt over my head and assessed myself in the mirror. It was a good fit. I tried to conjure up some excitement so that when I appeared on the other side of the curtain I might look a little happier than I actually felt.

  I tentatively pulled back the curtain. Will jumped up from where he had been leaning against the till, his eyes open wide with intrigue.

  He nodded approvingly.

  ‘Stunning. I reckon that’s the one.’

  ‘How about a woman’s prerogative to try on fifteen more tops and then buy the first one she tries on?’ I tried to disguise the smile that was creeping its way across my lips. It had been a long time since I had heard a compliment like that from a man.

  ‘I mean I can happily hang around all day if you need to try on more,’ Will said with a glint in his eye.

  I narrowed my eyes at him as a small smile played across my own lips.

  ‘I like your style. Luckily for you, I don’t do shopping.’ I looked at the assistant who was looking on with interest. ‘I’ll take it.’

  At the desk I handed over my card and the assistant put the shirt in a brown paper bag. Will was trying to feign interest in some of the clothes rails. I looked over to where he was standing and that was when I saw it. How I hadn’t seen it before was beyond me. The boldness of the design was so eye-catching, I knew it was forever embedded in my brain. But for some reason, today, my mind had chosen not to see it. I had, in fact, walked straight past it on my way to the changing room. But now, it was there, staring me in the face and dragging me back to that fateful day.

  I felt my legs go first, I grabbed for the counter but missed and dropped my purse, coins and cards scattered everywhere. Everything seemed to slow down. Then, as my body absorbed the shock, I went into protective mode. Will was speaking, but I couldn’t hear him. He was next to me and he reached out his hand to grab me. That was the last thing I saw before I fell.

  Will had gone home and fetched his car and driven me the two blocks home, even though I had told him over and over that I was fine to walk. As we drove, sadness consumed me. Will had seen a part of me I had been hoping he wouldn’t.

  He parked the car and ran around and opened my door just as I was about to do it for myself. The gesture surprised me, and I had to stop myself from looking at him oddly. Once outside the car, he took my hand and straightaway I was floored by the touch, realising how long it had been since I had had such close physical contact with anyone.

  We reached the front door, and I pulled my front door key out of my bag. I looked up at Will, who stood hesitantly.

  ‘I would invite you in, but it’s carnage.’

  ‘Hey, no, I understand. I just hope you’re okay.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, like I said. I just forgot to eat properly before I left.’

  ‘Well, make sure you eat something now.’ Will looked at me with concern ‘Eggs. They say eggs are good.’

  ‘Protein.’

  ‘Yes, protein.’ Will cleared his throat. ‘… Protein is good.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll crack on then.’

  ‘Ha, you made a joke.’ Will laughed.

  ‘Unintentional, I assure you.’ I felt the pull of the house and turned towards the door, to where there would be warmth, the security of my things around me, where I could open and shut doors and windows until the pain that was bubbling in my chest subsided.

  ‘You get yourself inside then,’ Will said perceptively.

  I pushed the key in the door. Will walked backwards away from the front door, his hands were pushed into his pockets, he side-stepped a woman on the pavement – he was doing the two-step – then called, ‘Take care of yourself, Regi!’ and opened his car door, slid in and drove away.

  I pushed my way into the house and made a dash to my bedroom before I came into contact with anyone. I opened and closed the door six times, ending on a lock. Then I stood in the middle of the room, fell to my knees and cried silent, heavy tears.

  13

  Now

  I opened my eyes, which felt thick and heavy. I had somehow made it to my bed and fallen asleep. I had forgotten just how much crying took it out of me. The first thing I thought was why did I not see it? It was the most prominent child’s sweatshirt in the shop. It was a rainbow motive, for goodness’ sake. How could I have missed it? Mostly, why had I not seen it before Will arrived? He was intrigued by me before, and now his interest in me would have definitely piqued. I wasn’t sure whether in a good way.

  I hadn’t meant to nap, but the shock had taken it out of me. I could hear plenty of commotion in the house, and I knew I too should be getting up and helping out with the preparations.

  I pulled myse
lf out of bed and took myself over to the window. I glanced over at next door and tried to see if I could catch a glimpse of the mother and child. The child who bore so many familiarities… But there was nothing. Even though the sun was now shining brightly, there was no sign of life.

  Suddenly there was a banging on the door. I went over and unlocked and relocked it six times. When I finally opened it, I was greeted by a breathless Mini.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Regi, but we need a third opinion on a few things. Sophia is still out and well, you’ve a good artistic eye.’

  I forced my face into a smile.

  ‘Sure, gimme a minute.’

  Downstairs, I found Mini, Karen and Steve all looking rather lost, standing around the coffee table, which was laden with banners and bunting and balloons.

  ‘How should we set it all out, Regi? The last time any of us had a party, we were kids and well…’

  Mini stopped short and looked at Karen and then me. ‘We just thought, you know, you might have some idea.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Suddenly I could see exactly what it was they were trying to imply. That I was the obvious choice, the mother hen of the group and that I would have had the experience of this kind of thing.

  Well, they were right. I had. But like everything else, I had forced myself to forget about it. I couldn’t remember the last time I had to think about a birthday party. I tentatively walked over to the paraphernalia and pulled out some bunting.