My Own Worst Enemy, page 24
I glance at Mae – she’s already looking at me.
‘I…’ Mae says, her eyes questioning.
‘Well, I live in North so—’
‘Me too,’ says Mae. I’m not sure King’s Cross really counts as North, but I’m not going to complain.
‘Right,’ I say. ‘Yes. So maybe we should—’
‘Right!’ says Mae.
‘Finally!’ says Charlie, clapping Mae on the back. Mae slaps their elbow.
‘Oops, sorry.’
Charlie hugs me and whispers, ‘Remember to use protection.’
They all wander away, waving happily to us. Mae and I start walking. I notice it’s not towards the nearest Tube stop.
As usual at the end of June, most shops still have their corporate Pride stickers in their garish windows like a Christmas light competition, ready to take down on the 1st July. I don’t dare to look at Mae.
‘I do really like hanging out with everyone,’ I say.
‘Oh my God, me too!’ Unabashedly, she loops her arm with mine and smiles at me. ‘But you’re my favourite.’
I have to hope that she can’t feel my outrageous heartbeat through her elbow.
‘So,’ she says. ‘What shall we do?’
What’s a suggestion that’s worthy of a ceremonial, celebratory evening with Mae, but that doesn’t sound like a date? Not that I’d know where to suggest if it was a date – it hardly feels appropriate to go to the same places I’ve been to with Alice.
God. Alice…
Don’t be silly, Emmy. Just because I might have a tiny, temporary, confusing crush on Mae, nothing factually has changed. It can’t be ‘cheating’ to go on a friendly excursion with someone who doesn’t like you back. That would be impossible to police.
‘Let’s just…’ I wave in the direction of the city, and dare myself to touch her tattooed wrist. ‘“Yes and” whatever comes up.’
She grins and hugs my arm.
What we ‘yes and’ first is cans of pre-mixed Captain Morgan’s which we clink as we promenade along the side of the river, watching the sky turn from blue to gold. Then we ‘yes and’ a bag of hot vegan doughnuts. When she’s licked the last crumbs from her fingers, she loops her arm comfortably round my shoulders. My heart clenches. Does this look like we’re on a date? No, don’t be silly. People probably think we’re sisters. Or brothers. A couple of buddies, chilling. Which, I remind myself, is exactly what we are doing.
Mae takes a deep breath of polluted air and exhales contentedly.
‘You know…’ she says. ‘Of all the places I’ve lived, I think London is my favourite.’
Mae looks at me, her face sparkling like the moonlit river. She nudges me.
‘Will you let me stay? Or is it not big enough for the two of us?’
I shrug out from under her arm.
‘Honestly, Jones, I don’t think we’ll overlap much,’ I say, trying to keep my voice level. ‘You’re a star that’s rising far too fast for me to keep up. Maybe I can have a career as your lookalike.’
‘Clooney,’ she says warningly, ‘let’s not get into a compliment fight – who knows which of your limbs I’d end up breaking.’
Despite everything I’m feeling, I laugh. I look at her under the setting sun, the way her dimples wiggle when she smiles.
Oh God. I’ve got it bad.
‘What are you thinking about?’ she laughs.
‘Nothing! Literally nothing!’
I pat her shoulder in what I hope is a friendly, matey, no homo kind of way.
‘I’m just… I’m going to miss you.’
Mae reaches up to hold my hand on her shoulder.
‘Why would you have to miss me?’
I pull my hand away. That’s what Thalia said too. Why do I keep doing this to myself?
I try to smile back at Mae but it feels more like a grimace. The reality of it is kicking in. This is probably the last time we’ll spend time together outside of the theatre. It’s all happened so fast. I wish I could stop it, freeze it, keep this in a perfect still.
I swallow painfully and turn away, pretending to admire the view. My techniques for maintaining a neutral expression aren’t working.
‘Clooney?’ Mae steps in front of me. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, carrying on walking. ‘Just… suddenly tired. I should go home. Sorry.’
I turn away, but she takes my hand.
‘Hey,’ she says, ‘talk to me.’
I shake my head. Mae reaches out her hand and touches my cheek. It’s like a jolt of adrenaline straight to my chest.
I finally meet her eyes. They’re bright, searching mine, her gold flecks like a kaleidescope.
Fuck, it’s going to take a long time to recover from her.
But maybe Raphy’s right. Maybe it’s worth it.
‘I give up,’ I say, and gently fist-bump her shoulder. ‘You win.’
I take her hand and I start to run.
Mae laughs in wild surprise, but quickly matches my pace. Down the street, we run between couples and tourists, racing, whooping. At a crossroads, she points in the other direction and we sprint again until we come to a breathless stop outside an old-fashioned cinema.
I bend over panting, laughing as I watch Mae clutch her stomach, fanning her star-patterned shirt from her chest. She holds a finger up while she catches her breath enough to say, ‘I have an idea.’
She opens the cinema doors for me and looks around. There’s a woop from behind the counter. An usher with wild sandy hair and a curly moustache waves at her. Mae runs over and is swept into a bear hug. I smile to myself. Of course Mae knows the staff here.
Mae waves me over. ‘Clooney, this is Alex, who used to come into the café to write his amazing screenplays.’
He laughs. ‘She’d slide me free mocha top-ups and I’d slide her free cinema tickets.’
‘Alex, this is Em. She’s in Twelfth Night with me. But she’s like, a proper actor. She knows everything. You should totally come to see her!’
‘Mae’s the real reason you should come to see it,’ I insist. ‘Imagine this,’ I gesture to her grin, ‘but in a pirate costume.’
Mae and Alex share a look which I can’t read, the corners of his mouth curling under his moustache.
‘Well, I look forward to seeing you both on one of these screens some day,’ he says.
‘What’s on tonight?’ I ask.
Mae raises her eyebrows significantly at Alex, and he looks round at the other staff in the quiet cinema, then nods conspiratorially at her. She grins.
‘Em, how about you choose some snacks? Al and I are just going to sort something out.’
I’d happily spend my entire Twelfth Night fee on buying Mae cute sweets at the pick ’n’ mix. I get mixed popcorn to balance my salt with Mae’s sweet. At the till, I spontaneously get a mini bottle of Prosecco too – a sip each to celebrate the end of rehearsals.
Alex waves aside the payment.
‘This is on me,’ he says. ‘God knows, Mae saved me enough on coffee.’
I’m overwhelmed at Mae’s magic. ‘Thank you,’ I say sincerely. ‘At least let me get you something for your shift?’
‘I can see why she likes you,’ he smiles, and I blush as I pay for his Ice Blast.
‘You want Screen 5,’ he winks, and points me towards the corridors.
I juggle the food to open the screen door, wondering how I’m going to find Mae without bothering too many people.
It turns out not to be a problem. The room is empty, except for Mae, seated in the middle. She turns to me and spreads her arms out.
‘They have these rooms for private cinema screenings, but they don’t always get booked up,’ she says. ‘Al and I watched the entirety of Gilmore Girls here.’
‘This is… surreal,’ I say to her.
She grins even more broadly.
‘It’s all real, baby.’
I sit down next to her, passing her the pick ’n’ mix. She squeals at the huge blue dolphins and pops the cork on our mini Prosecco.
The opening credits start. It’s Carol.
Mae’s eyes twinkle, gauging my reaction.
I laugh and roll my eyes.
‘Jones, you cliché! I hope you’re being ironic.’
Mae sips the Prosecco and passes me the bottle. ‘Oh you just wait. By the end, I guarantee, we’ll be taking it very seriously.’
I am astonishingly aware of the warmth of her body next to mine, the way our fingers touch when we pass the Prosecco bottle back and forth, the way she is not careful when reaching into the popcorn.
Mae starts a running commentary, far more enjoyable than any director’s cut. When there’s a moment that’s become a meme, she hurriedly explains her laughter. When the characters’ queer longing becomes too much, she clutches my arm. You’d have thought that all this distraction would mean I can’t concentrate on the film. But Mae’s engagement is infectious. For the first time in forever, I’m not judging the actor’s technique, or thinking about how I would have said the lines. I’m just lost in the story.
And Mae’s right. It isn’t long before we stop laughing. Her hand stays on my arm.
I sit back and watch them fall in love, trying not to cry.
40
I close the front door carefully behind me so I don’t wake Ruth and Raphy.
I’m feeling decidedly strange. It was a mistake, I realise, to watch an intensely erotic lesbian film alone with a woman I’m trying not to develop feelings for.
We sat through the credits in silence and afterwards I couldn’t look at her. We walked to the Tube in silence and even though we both know where the other lives, I said, madly, that I was going in the other direction. She didn’t stop me. We parted with our first, unbelievably brief, hug. My heart rate hasn’t returned to normal since.
Although I would love to debrief with R&R about everything, I can’t wake them for something as silly as this. Besides, if I asked them ‘should I dump Alice over text because I watched Carol with someone else and now I have literally every feeling for her?’ they might tell me something I don’t want to hear.
It’s past midnight, so I’m surprised there’s music coming from the living room. Hypnotic tubular bells.
I tiptoe in, thinking Raphy must have left his CD player on. But no, he’s in there, straddling someone on the sofa. His hair’s wild and free and flopping forwards over his lover’s face. He pulls back to look at her.
It’s Ruth.
Ruth and Raphy. Making out. In my spot.
For a moment, my brain doesn’t catch up. I don’t do anything except watch. Then it all hits me in one violent surge.
I thought we were a three. I thought I was their best friend. But the whole time, it was the two of them, and me alone. The whole time they were encouraging me to date, was it just because they wanted me out of the way?
I watch the two of them; how obvious it is now. The shared looks, the uncharacteristic behaviour, the excuses to spend time as a couple. How could I have been so stupid?
Deep in my core, something jealous writhes in agony.
I step backwards and they turn at the noise.
‘Em!’
The two of them look at me, then each other, and, to my utter astonishment, start giggling.
‘Well, I guess we don’t need to worry about how to tell her anymore,’ says Ruth, smoothing her ruffles. Raphy dismounts, tucking coy curls behind his ear.
‘Anymore?’ I say quietly. ‘How long…?’
They look at each other in that familiar way couples do, about who is going to tell the story of how they got together.
‘When you went on your first date with Alice,’ says Ruth.
‘We all made good on our promise to date people outside of our usual types,’ laughs Raphy. They’re glowing.
I haven’t moved from the doorway.
‘But that was weeks ago,’ I say. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Well, we had to be sensible,’ says Ruth. ‘At first, we didn’t know if it was going to be a thing and we didn’t want to rock the boat for no reason. Then when it became evident that…’ She looks shyly at Raphy.
Raphy strokes her hair behind her ear. ‘That it was what was always meant to happen.’
Ruth smiles back. A stab goes through my chest.
‘Then we put it off because we didn’t want you to think it would change anything between us. We wanted to be able to say – well look, it’s already been working fine. So… Look!’
I do. I look at the new way they’re looking at each other, and moving around each other, touching each other. They have a whole separate life now, one that doesn’t involve me.
‘But it does change things,’ I say. ‘It’s already changed things. We were meant to be best friends having the best time…’
What’s it going to be like, being around the two of them, knowing they don’t really want me there? Having them always jump apart when I come home. Gradually breaking off promises to hang out as a three. The plaster ripped off the wound over and over again.
I turn away from them, unsure what I’m meant to do next.
‘Em, you’ve changed too,’ says Ruth, walking over. ‘Maybe the two of us only came together because you weren’t around anymore.’
‘And that’s good!’ says Raphy hastily. ‘Change is natural! We’re both happy for you that you’re finally dating!’
Their pity feels like a slap.
‘I should have realised I was always second best for you.’
‘Umm,’ says Ruth, folding her arms. ‘Actually, we’ve always been second best for you. First we were second-best friends to Thalia. Now, we’re second best to your girlfriend. Both of them.’
My chest feels as though it’s caving in. Some actor part of me at the back of my brain tries to take notes for future performances. What is this specific feeling? Like being hit by a very targeted truck?
‘Thank you for the confirmation,’ I say stiffly. ‘You don’t want me around anymore. Maybe you never did.’
‘Em’ – Ruth rolls her eyes – ‘no one is saying that.’
‘You don’t have to say it! It’s obvious!’
What couple wants to live with a third wheel? They’ll probably move into one of Raphy’s dad’s beautiful one-bedroom homes, and they’ll never want to see me again. Ruth and Raphy, the only friends I believed would never leave me. What an idiot.
I go to my room and pack a hasty bag, glad that my monochrome wardrobe makes it easy to leave home in a hurry.
Ruth and Raphy stand in my bedroom doorway now. I try to close it, but Ruth puts her heel-hardened foot in the gap.
‘Em, you’re overreacting.’
‘Me?! You think I’m overreacting?!’
I pull my underwear drawer out from its cupboard hinges and tip it upside down over my suitcase.
‘My best friends have both betrayed me! With each other! I’m reacting in a completely reasonable way!’
I ram the drawer back in and do it again with my T-shirts.
‘See?’ Ruth says to Raphy. My jaw drops at her. That’s how it will always be from now on – Ruth and Raphy having a separate conversation over my head.
‘Em,’ says Raphy placatingly. ‘Ru and I changing the nature of our relationship doesn’t have to change anything between ours.’
The way Raphael says ‘Ru’ sounds different now. Private. Intimate. Special. And this whole time, I thought that I was secretly the others’ favourite. It’s so embarrassing.
‘I’ll move back in with my dad,’ I say. ‘Of course, I’ll still transfer you the rent for this month.’
‘This is your home as long as you want it,’ he says.
I shake my head. I can’t cry now, not here, I’d never be able to stop. I take a last look around my too beautiful room. Raphy’s too beautiful room. Maybe they’ll convert it into a sex dungeon. Or a nursery.
‘I hope you’ll be very happy,’ I say, my throat tight. ‘Maybe you’ll consider inviting me to your wedding.’
She throws up her hands. ‘This doesn’t have to be one of your little audition pieces. Stop being so dramatic.’
I feel winded.
‘You always do this!’ she says. ‘You’re blaming us for abandoning you, but you’re the one leaving. It’s like with your other play friends at school, and the other actors after college, and the girls who tried to date you – and it’s exactly like you did with your mum.’
Raphy flinches. He takes a step towards me, but I hold up a hand. I can’t look at either of them. I just walk slowly to the bedroom door, and they both back away, like I have a powerful forcefield.
‘Em,’ Ruth says urgently, with a softness I haven’t heard from her since the bullies got to us in primary school. ‘Em, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t—’
‘Please,’ I say, my voice unfamiliar, ‘if either of you care about me at all, don’t message me.’
I close the door gently behind me.
41
We’re having pizza for breakfast.
Dad’s always in charge of the kitchen in the flat, to give Pete some time off. On top of sourdough bases, he’s fried eggs on spicy tomato sauce like an unholy shakshuka, and for me, he’s unsuccessfully replaced the eggs with scrambled tofu. I miss Raphy’s smoothies.
‘Isn’t this wonderful?’ sings Dad. He’s wearing a frilly pink apron my mum bought him twenty years ago. The words KISS THE CHEF have faded into invisibility.
He sits down with a contented sigh, waves at us both to eat, and squeezes my hand over the table.
‘You won’t need to worry about rent anymore.’
Dad assumed the reason I fought with R&R was because I’d missed a payment, and I didn’t correct him. Better than explaining I officially have fewer friends than he does.
‘We can do shifts together every night,’ he says, rolling his pizza cutter, ‘and settle into some immersive three-person board games. Ticket to Ride? Catan? Pokemon Master Quest?’
