My Own Worst Enemy, page 23
‘Of course,’ says Alice, fanning herself desperately with the menu. ‘Thank you.’
The waiter stalks away.
I’m delighted. The whole time I’ve known Alice, it’s felt that she was an angel who could do no wrong, and I was unworthily ruining our image. She seems a lot more human now.
‘So, darling,’ I say, languishing back. ‘Who’s your friend?’
‘We’re not friends!’ she snaps. ‘I mean, we’re not anything. We don’t speak anymore. I swear.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing’s happening! I did not know she worked here! I didn’t even know she was back in London!’
I pat her hand.
‘Alice, it’s OK. Honestly.’
She frowns at me.
‘You’re not jealous?’
I try to plumb my emotional depths. But no, I feel rather magnanimous.
‘Maybe I’m not a very jealous person,’ I say.
Alice crosses her arms, and something in my stomach clenches in response. Sorry, but how did this suddenly become me doing something wrong?
‘All I mean is,’ I say quickly, ‘I believe you! You say you haven’t spoken in years, you don’t have feelings for her anymore, so… Tell me about her?’
Alice looks around in terror.
‘We just went on a few dates,’ she says hurriedly, then licks her lip. ‘Well… we were seeing each other. For a while.’
‘How long is a while?’ I ask.
‘Eight years.’
I splutter.
‘But for two years of that,’ she adds, ‘we were engaged.’
The waiter returns with our drinks on a shaking tray. She passes me my sparkling water, setting it down a little roughly for such a fancy establishment. Then she sets down Alice’s martini and a delicate dish with two of the plumpest olives I’ve ever seen.
‘On the side,’ says the waiter quietly. She lingers for just a second longer, then says, ‘Let me know if you want anything more,’ and runs away. We both watch her retreat.
‘You were engaged?’ I hiss.
Alice takes a huge sip of her martini and gasps for air.
‘Well?’ I demand. ‘What happened?’
Alice shakes her head.
‘Please, Emmeline. I don’t want to talk about it.’
She rolls the olives round the pot.
I open my bottle of water with a fizz. I open my mouth and close it again. Then I giggle. Alice stares at me with complete betrayal in her eyes.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Sorry, it’s just funny!’
‘What on earth is funny?’
‘Well, you have a type!’
Alice’s face whitens further.
‘Wh-what do you mean?’
‘It’s not a problem! I’m just saying…’ I gesture between myself and the waiter. ‘Me… her… there’s a pattern!’
Alice’s shoulders lower slightly.
‘It’s natural,’ she says, poking an olive with a stick. ‘For someone like me to be with someone like you.’
She pops it in her mouth.
The laugh dies in my throat. I put my bottle down.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know very well what I mean,’ she says, chewing. ‘We might be lesbians, but relationships are still about balance.’
The twist in my stomach starts to writhe.
‘You understand,’ she continues. ‘There’s a reason you’re only ever cast to play the girlfriend of feminine women. It’s the natural way of things.’
‘Otherwise how would we know who wears the trousers?’ I say sarcastically.
‘Oh, stop trying to be clever, Emmeline, it doesn’t suit you.’
It’s like a slap. But you know what? A part of me is so relieved. Finally, here’s a completely justifiable reason for me to feel uncomfortable dating Alice.
I take a deep breath. As politely as I can, I lift my napkin from my lap, put it onto the table, and stand up.
‘Alice,’ I say, trying to collate the scripts of romance films into a kind but irreversible break-up speech.
Unfortunately, Alice has seen the same films and clocks my tone.
‘No,’ she says, grabbing my hand. ‘No. No, no, no! Don’t start that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
I try to gently tug my hand out of hers, but she clings harder.
‘Please!’ she sobs. ‘I’ll do anything.’
‘Alice,’ I say, glancing around the bar, supremely awkward.
She puts her face in her hands and screams. What is this going to do for the public reputation of lesbians? Awkwardly, I perch back down again.
‘I was unacceptable,’ says Alice. ‘I didn’t mean it! Of course I think you’re intelligent, I always enjoy hearing your opinions on the theatre. They’ve even inspired my reviews. I was just so flustered by seeing Sammy again. You don’t understand. You’ve never had your heart really broken.’
I sigh, and think about when I saw Thalia for the first time after the months of silence. How, when she walked onto that stage, I convinced myself she was talking just to me. How she glowed.
I pass Alice a linen table napkin.
‘There, there,’ I say.
Alice blows her nose. Her mascara has run like squashed spiders. I feel a rush of sympathy for people who wear make-up, how it means you can’t hide accidental outbursts. She glances over at the exit, then at me. She looks so crushed, so confused.
‘I do understand,’ I say softly.
Alice sighs in relief, leans forward over the table, the motion accentuating the low-cut nature of her dress.
‘My one true darling,’ she says. ‘Thank you. I’ll make it up to you.’
‘You don’t need to,’ I say, already doubting myself.
‘Let’s get out of this hellhole,’ she says, scrabbling with her bag. ‘Take me home.’
I hesitate. Alice pouts.
‘We don’t have to – we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m just asking for us to leave here, and you to keep me company. Please.’
What else can I do? I nod.
She grabs her coat and kisses me. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’
I go to pay a different waitress. Sammy has disappeared. The olives on the side cost an extra six pounds.
*
I can’t describe what Alice’s flat looks like, because the second we go through the front door, she doesn’t turn the lights on, just starts kissing me and pawing at my jacket.
‘Woah!’ I try to gently push her off. ‘Slow down.’
She starts unclasping the top of her dress.
‘Alice. Stop!’
She lets the fabric fall.
‘I can’t do this,’ I say.
Alice moves towards me and links her fingers round my belt.
‘What about th—’
‘No.’ I push her hands away and look away. ‘I mean it. I can’t do this.’
‘Do you mean this this? Or this this?’
We stare at each other in the dark. Passing cars light up her face briefly through the window above the door.
God, what am I meant to do? I feel that if Ruth and Raphy were here right now, they’d be telling me I should break up with Alice. But I’ve never broken up with someone before! I’m always the one broken up with – or indeed, not broken up with, because we were never officially ‘together’ in the first place. Surely I can’t break up with Alice when she’s had a sad evening. When she’s already heartbroken and tipsy and I’ve rejected her sexual advances? I think of how much Mae’s ex upset her with careless words. I don’t want to give Alice a complex. If I’m going to break up with her, I’ll have to do it right. I’ll research it then write a good speech and practise it beforehand.
Thankfully, just as I make the decision, Alice regains control.
‘You’re not yourself right now,’ she says, tying her dress back. ‘Your mind is in your character, in your show. I’ll see you after the Twelfth Night performances, okay? Things will seem different then. You’ll be a better girlfriend.’
I don’t point out that I had asked not to see her while I’m so busy with the show anyway, but I am at least glad this confirms Alice is not reviewing it anymore.
Besides, maybe she’s right. It could all feel different with her in a few weeks. Or she could decide to break up with me, and I wouldn’t need to be the bad guy…
Exhaustedly, cowardly, I nod.
‘See you after the show.’
37
In rehearsals the next day, Francis, Mae, Joe and Charlie are due to set the final staging for Act 2, scene 4. In this scene, the Duke Orsino is jealous when he thinks that his cute new pageboy (Viola in disguise) has a crush on someone else. But Viola tries to hint that it’s him she likes, and, listening to romantic music together, they nearly kiss.
I remember Mae and I speaking through the scene in Mae’s bedroom. As I watch her up on the stage, I wonder if she’s remembering it too.
Suddenly, mid-scene, Joe clutches at his mouth. Visibly green, he sprints off, followed by a concerned Charlie.
‘He’s throwing up, like, a lot,’ they report back. ‘Thinks he ate a bad egg.’
‘Damn and blast!’ shouts Francis, squeezing a prop parrot like a stress ball. ‘Is this play cursed? This is a vital tidal shift in the play. I need to know where we are going to move the barrels.’
He wheels round. He points at me.
‘You. Sebastian. How’s your toe? No pun intended, but can you stand in?’
I do know the direction from watching them.
‘Yessir!’
‘Good show,’ says Francis, a twinkle in his eye. ‘I merely need you as a body, don’t worry about snogging your heart out…’
My heart rate rockets. I hobble up the stairs and get into the position left by Joe, avoiding Mae’s eye the whole time.
‘And. . . action,’ says Francis.
Upstage, Charlie’s Feste starts singing a sombre sea shanty about a captain throwing himself overboard for a siren’s call.
I glance at Mae, unsure whether she’ll look as nervous as I feel. But instead, she looks like she’s trying not to laugh. She looks so adorable I can’t help myself. I flick her nose. Then I remember we’re on stage, and I’m meant to be the Duke. I style it out into Duke’s lines, where he’s convinced that Viola has a crush on someone.
DUKE ORSINO
My life upon’t, thine eye
Hath stay’d upon some favour that it loves:
Hath it not?
Mae’s eyes linger too long on mine. Then she curls the hair at the back of her neck and looks away.
VIOLA
A little, by your favour.
Jealousy flares up in me. I know it’s just the energy of the character, but somehow it feels real.
DUKE ORSINO
What kind of man is’t?
Viola looks back at me, unblinking.
VIOLA
Of your complexion.
My heart jolts. For a second, I think she means me. Then I catch myself and remember that, for God’s sake Emmy, we’re both actors! I’m getting too into the story – after all, in terms of the play, Viola is talking about the Duke.
DUKE ORSINO
He is not worth thee, then.
But as she puts her hand on mine, electricity courses through me. As she moves closer to me, I forget that we’re characters. It’s just me and Mae.
Suddenly, the music stops. We reel round. Charlie curtseys with their pink ukulele.
I ‘pretend not to be flustered’ while also pretending not to be flustered. I’d completely forgotten Feste interrupts at that point. Thank goodness my knowledge of the play takes over on autopilot. The Duke stands, and rummages for some coins in his purse, then pushes the Fool from the room. God, acting does weird things to your nervous system.
The thing that happens next in the play is that the Duke, in their sudden silent privacy, looks over at disguised Viola, someone he’s not allowed to be attracted to, and thinks to himself, I mustn’t spend more time with him or I’m going to embarrass myself.
I look over at Mae, and realise I know exactly how he feels.
As the Duke, I tell ‘Cesario’ to leave, to go to Olivia and woo her on my behalf. To win someone he should want to be with. But Viola doesn’t leave. She comes back, and takes the Duke’s hand.
VIOLA
Sir, shall I to this Lady?
She brings his hand to her mouth, turns it and kisses his wrist. The Duke stares at her, then remembers himself, and waves her away. She leaves heartbroken. In the distance, the fool plays another sad refrain. The Duke returns to his seat, and brings his wrist to his mouth, kissing the trace of her lips.
‘And blackout!’ calls Francis.
The spell snaps away. Francis leaps up to the stage, moving treasure chests and talking to Mae about her delivery. No one else seems to have noticed anything untoward. They don’t know that I didn’t mean to do that. I wasn’t being ‘the Duke’, I was just being… myself. Myself, desperately wanting Mae to kiss me.
I hobble down the steps. Then Mae’s there, offering me her arm. I pull away from her as if she’s on fire.
‘You OK, Clooney?’ she asks, as if everything is normal. ‘You look like you’ve eaten one of Joe’s eggs.’
‘I’m fine! I’m fine!’ I say, but I do then spend some time with my head in my hands in the loo.
This is bad. Very, very bad.
38
I text R&R saying we need to have an emergency flat meeting.
They look surprisingly nervous, sitting on the sofa. Raphy squeezes Ruth’s hand reassuringly. They must be feeling my terrified energy.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and say it aloud for the first time.
‘I think I might possibly… have a crush on Mae Jones.’
R&R start laughing.
‘Yeah,’ says Raphy. ‘Duh.’
I bury my head in the beanbag and scream.
‘So what are you going to do about it?’ asks Ruth.
‘Nothing,’ I say immediately. ‘Absolutely nothing! There’s nothing to do, except ignore it. In one week’s time, I’ll never see her again.’
‘One second you’re convinced you’ll see her constantly, the next you think you’re never going to see her again,’ says Ruth.
‘Now I know I won’t see her in auditions anymore because she’s so much better than me,’ I explain. ‘She might not even have to do auditions anymore – she’s so good as Twelfth Night’s leading lady, she’ll get casting offers off the back of the reviews.’
‘OK, so even if you won’t see each other in auditions or in productions anymore,’ shrugs Ruth, ‘you could, you know, arrange to meet outside of your workplace?’
I blink at her. ‘Why would she want to see me outside of work?’
‘Because she might like you back?’ says Raphy.
I laugh hysterically.
‘Guys. You met her! She’s out of my league! She could have her pick of literally anyone. She doesn’t think of me that way! She’s literally spent the past months telling me, regularly, how much she dislikes me!’
R&R share a meaningful look.
‘Well, Emmy,’ Raphy says, in the way of a parent about to give The Talk, ‘sometimes we might tell ourselves that someone isn’t right for us, or isn’t into us, as a defence mechanism to protect ourselves from being vulnerable.’
‘What about Alice?’ I say. ‘She’s obviously the one I should be with! She has explicitly told me she likes me! And she’s… She’s formidable!’
‘Your energy is off when you speak about her,’ shivers Raphy.
‘You’ve had plenty of opportunities to shag her, but you haven’t,’ shivers Ruth.
I blush. ‘You said it’s OK for me to go at my own pace!’
‘Yeah, of course it is. But do you want to do it with Mae?’
Flashes of Mae pushing me against a locker.
‘Aargh! That doesn’t matter! What matters is that, in my twenty-five years on this earth, I’ve never been in an official relationship! Alice is my best chance to be a real adult. Even… even if Mae somehow did like me, it would only be temporary. She’s flighty! She’s an improviser! I can’t handle another situation where I’m devoted to someone who doesn’t care and throws me away when they’re bored!’
Raphy takes my hand. ‘Em… what if you accepted no one can have a meaningful relationship without risk? Yes, she might leave, but she might not. What if it’s still worth it?’
But a dreadful, familiar panic rises in my chest. I start hyperventilating.
‘Em, it’s OK,’ says Ruth, putting her cold hands on my cheeks. She holds her forehead to mine, like she did when we were at school, if I was freaking out about whether Dad would be too busy to pick me up, or about the girl who didn’t want to kiss me anymore, or about how much I missed Mum.
‘It’s OK,’ she says. ‘We’ve got you.’
I nestle into the sofa between them, and feel my breathing return. I wipe my cheeks.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble, but they just carry on cooing.
‘I love you both so much,’ I say. ‘I should say it more. I’m so grateful for your friendship and…’ I sniff. ‘I know I’ve been absent recently with rehearsals and everything. But soon it’ll be over, and we can hang out and watch musicals like always, OK?’ I look at them tearily. ‘Nothing has changed?’
Raphy and Ruth glance at each other. ‘You know Em, change can be a good—’
I hold out my hands for the three of us to shake.
‘Best friends for the best time?’ I plead.
R&R look at each other for a moment, then nod. They join in the handshake.
39
On the last day of rehearsals for a show, I’m usually desperate to spend the evening with the cast, knowing it will be the last time I’ll see them outside the theatre. But tonight, a guilty part of me hopes I’ll be able to spend some time with just Mae.
As we gather in the bright, humid evening, we realise our group is depleted. Roger and Zach have officially got together, as we knew they would, and say that as they hadn’t had sex in five whole hours they simply have to go. (I’m not going to question the maths of having spent eight hours in rehearsals today.) Keiya’s got tickets to see Bimini Bon Boulash in concert, and Joe’s getting an early night because he still feels a bit eggy. Surina and Charlie live near each other in Peckham, so suggest that, instead of going to the pub, we go back to Surina’s.
