Are We Nearly There Yet

by Lucy Vine

  I sit up straighter. Where is this coming from? I open my mouth to tell him to mind his own business and then stop. I’ve run away from this conversation for too long now. He’s tried over and over to speak to me and I need to give him the chance to talk. Maybe if I can sit here quietly without getting angry – just let him make his dumb speech – we can get on with our trip in peace.

  He continues quickly, sensing I want to stop him. ‘Because it’s obvious that your history with Mum is holding you back in so many different ways. Haven’t you thought about it? Don’t you think? You’ve got this shitty thing – this shitty rift – hanging over you all the time, never resolved, never settled. And it’s embedded into you like some broken piece of glass in your foot. You’re limping everywhere. Limping through your life, Al. You’ve let the pain and the sadness become a part of your personality, a part of who you are, where they never used to be. You’re afraid of being abandoned, like you feel Mum did to you. It makes you push people away.’ He raises his voice for the first time. ‘Look at yourself, for fuck’s sake, Alice. You can’t even commit to a job! You’re so afraid of intimacy, you’ve been a temp for ten years!’

  I am shocked into silence for a moment, before letting out a short, sharp fake laugh. ‘No, Mark,’ I say, as lightly as I can. ‘I’ve been a temp for ten years because I don’t want to have any involvement in office birthdays. That is where I draw the line of decency.’ I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to argue, I need him to stop talking in this serious tone.He sighs, and continues: ‘Look, I just had a really long chat on the phone with Eva about this whole thing and . . .’

  What? This hits me like a slap in the face. He’s been gossiping about this? With my best friend? The best friend I’m in a half-huff with? That is not OK, he knows that’s not OK. If I want to talk to Eva about my family stuff, I will. He hasn’t got the right to do it on my behalf! I am filled with fury at the two of them going behind my back like this, whispering about me, judging me.

  ‘You cannot be serious?’ My voice is louder than I expected. ‘You had no right, no right!’ I am suddenly furious with him and spitting my words. ‘How dare you, how dare you?’

  ‘Ali . . .’ he starts.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ I say, and I am really upset. ‘You had no right. This is such a betrayal, Mark.’

  He raises his voice. ‘Alice, stop it, for God’s sake. You’re not actually upset I spoke to your best friend about this, you’re just trying to distract me and yourself from what I’m saying. You don’t want to hear it, so you’re making a fuss over something that isn’t important.’

  He’s wrong.

  He continues. ‘You need to get over yourself, Alice, because this is tearing a lot of people apart. You’ve put me and Hannah in the middle of things for years and we’re both sick of it.’

  I nasty-laugh, ‘You didn’t have to be in the middle of this, Mark, I never asked you to mediate. In fact, I’ve asked you not to, many times. I have only ever asked you to stay the hell out of this. It’s between Mum and me. You made a choice and I want . . .’

  ‘Stop making this all about you,’ he snaps.

  ‘Stop making it not all about me,’ I snap back.

  We glare at each other for half a second, panting furiously.

  ‘So that’s it, is it?’ he says, anger in his voice. ‘No discussion, no compromise. You’re just never going to be a part of this family again? What if Steven dies? Will you still refuse to speak to Mum? Or is that what you’re hoping for? The bad man dies and you get to play happy families again? It’s all so black and white with you, isn’t it, Alice? You can’t see any nuance. You can’t see that Mum has been torn apart all these years, trying to care for an alcoholic idiot she loves – and a stubborn idiot she loves.’ He means me.

  ‘Don’t you dare compare me with him,’ I say, my voice low and threatening.

  ‘But you’re both forcing Mum to choose, aren’t you?’ he spits back. ‘Both demanding something from her that you know she can’t give. Yes, fine, our mother is a weak woman and she should’ve thrown him out years ago, but she feels like she can’t. She truly believes he needs her and that she can save him. And maybe she can. Maybe she has. We both know he would’ve been dead years ago without her.’ He pauses while that sinks in before continuing. ‘You know this is not a simple situation with a simple solution. There’s no one answer. He’s not all bad, Alice, you know that. He’s just messed up, and Mum sees that. She wants to help him. And instead of loving her despite her weakness, and supporting her in whatever way you can, you’ve spent years punishing her.’ He pauses to breathe heavily. ‘She can’t help the way she is. People are weak, Alice, you can’t expect them all to be strong like you.’

  ‘I won’t be pushed into having someone in my life!’ I explode and I am so mad. ‘You don’t get to dictate when and how I deal with things, Mark. I’m not ready. You’re always telling me what to do, always bossing me around! You turned up over here, uninvited, crashing my trip. You made me change my plans and do everything your way. I was meant to be doing all this on my own, meant to be figuring things out for myself, but here you are, taking over and telling me what to do, as ever. And here I am – following you around like a lost fucking puppy, yet again. But not with this, Mark, you can’t make me get over this thing with Mum by shouting at me.’ I feel the bile in my throat as I add, ‘Stop telling me what to do with my life, Mark, and hey, why not actually get a life for yourself? You say I’m limping through my life, but at least I have things to limp through. Your life is empty as fuck.’

  A flash of pain crosses his face. We stare at each other again and something in me sinks. I’ve never seen him look so wounded. ‘Great, fine, OK,’ he snaps at last. ‘Well, I’ll leave then. Since I am not wanted here and never was. I was planning to go back to Australia soon anyway, so Joe and I will just go now. We’ll let you have this time all on your own, like you wanted all along. I’ll let you find yourself. Let’s just hope you actually like the person you find in there after all this, eh? Because you’re going to be all on your own with her.’ His voice is mocking as he storms out. ‘Have fun, Alice.’

  He is gone, door slamming behind him and I collapse back on the bed. I didn’t even realise I’d stood up at some point during the fight.

  I am breathing hard, furious. Shit shit shit. Fuck him! I don’t need Mark here. I’m glad he’s going. I can finally get back to doing what I wanted to do all along. I don’t need him here talking horseshit and trying to make me feel bad about how I’m living my life. I don’t push people away! I’m not black and white! I know things with my mum are complicated, but why can’t he see how complicated it is on my side, too? He hasn’t got the first idea what he’s talking about, he doesn’t know how badly she let me down. He clearly doesn’t know me at all. I’m glad he’s leaving – I can’t wait to get back to my travels on my own, just like I wanted. There are plenty of people who go about here alone.

  I wanted this. It’s fine. It’s good.

  Through the wall I hear Mark’s raised angry voice telling Joe to pack up his stuff.

  I roll over on the bed and cry because it seems like the right thing to do.

  23

  AWOL.COM/Alice Edwards’ Travel Blog

  13 June – 3.12 p.m.

  Hey.

  I know this is really lame and I hate it when people make a thing of doing this, but I think I’m going to come off social media and AWOL for a couple of weeks. I just need a bit of head space to think. But I didn’t want anyone to think I was dead if I just disappeared without a word, so here it is. I’m fine, I just want to enjoy my last bit of Thailand in silence.

  Bye for now.

  Ax

  3 Comments · 75 AWOLs · 84 Super Likes

  COMMENTS:

  Danny Boy

  | GOOD RIDDINS STUPID COW

  Karen Gill

  Re
plying to Danny Boy

  | ↑ what he said. JK! Miss you already. Have fun and stay safe out there.

  Hollie Baker

  | Noooo! You and Constance Beaumont are my fave bloggers to follow!! Come back soon!!!

  I am not too proud to admit this has been a tough few days.

  So, yeah. Joe and Mark left.

  Joe said an awkward goodbye, standing in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say so much more, but Mark just picked up his bag and went. I’d say he went silently but boy howdy did he slam that front door. It was awful.

  I basically stayed in bed for a full twenty-four hours, and after forcing myself to get out of bed, I’ve mostly been wandering around feeling shitty and wondering what to do. I guess I should get back to my original itinerary?

  It’s not always been easy, being away from home for a long time – away from familiar things and familiar people – but this is the first time I’ve really, really wanted to quit.

  The thing is, I wasn’t mentally prepared for being alone for this part. I’d got used to having the guys around. Got used to having someone or some-two to bounce things off. I got used to having people there to go, ‘Ooh, look at that pretty thing over there, isn’t that pretty!’ And now I am here without a safety net, and it feels like I’m free-falling. I’m suddenly realising how cut off I am. And looking at social media and AWOL made me feel even lonelier for some reason.

  I am sad.

  Making the whole thing worse is that all the drinking I’ve been doing these past few weeks – not to mention the jet lag and odd hours I’ve kept – has caught up with me all at once. My face has not been this acne-ridden since I went on the pill in 2007. And, as happens whenever I’m seriously run down, I have thrush. Bad thrush. Bad-bad, rubbing yourself on things, red, sore, cottage-creamy thrush. There’s nothing to make you want to run back home like being around strangers, a million miles away from your home comforts with an itchy, burning vagina. Believe me.

  I was really hoping it would go away on its own, but yesterday I couldn’t take it any more, so went into a Thai chemist to beg for help.

  ‘Do you speak English?’ I half whispered at the girl behind the counter, who genuinely didn’t look more than about twelve years old. She pulled a face, looking helpless, which I could only assume meant she didn’t even understand the question.

  I tried anyway, but I’ve never been good at charades.

  ‘I need help. I have . . . um, thrush?’ I said, half pointing at my crotch and waving in the air for some reason. She looked blank.

  ‘Thrush? A yeast infection? You know, itchy-itchy, sore-sore, down there?’ I kept going. ‘Really red? Ow-y?’

  She looked behind her shoulder, slightly alarmed.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, the mortification turning my face bright red.

  I almost gave up at that point, but a searing pain radiating from my vagina kept me rooted to the spot.

  ‘Bad vagina, evil vagina!’ I said again, my voice a pitch higher, aware of a small queue of customers forming behind me. ‘Bad thrush . . . in my pants. Thrush? You know? Thrush, like a small brown bird? But in my wizard’s sleeve? Thrush?’ I sighed, but she had started to look intrigued, so I continued.

  ‘Yeast problem, y’know?’ I said, loudly. ‘Yeast? Like, as in bread? Or Marmite? Do you have Marmite over here?’

  She looked at the floor, and I wondered if I should pull my trousers down and show her. But I had a feeling the other people in the shop might object. Things were bad enough without me getting arrested for flashing a chemist.

  We stared at each other for a long moment and I took one last shot.

  ‘FUNGUS? IN MY FANNY? FUNGUS FANNY?’ I said, pointing aggressively at my undercarriage. It was at this point that a much older Thai man emerged from the back room. He caught my last couple of words and stopped short.

  ‘Can I help you, miss?’ he said in lovely English and then paused, adding a few quiet words to the girl who immediately left – giving me one last, haunted look.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he turned to address me again. ‘My daughter must do homework now. She is learning English at school, but I don’t think she has learnt the word “fungus” yet. Or “fanny”.’

  Oh.

  She actually literally was twelve.

  I shouted at a small child about fanny fungus.

  OK, cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool.

  I cleared my throat then, my face flaming with humiliation, as he came around the counter and picked something up from a shelf behind me.

  Canesten. The same one we have in the UK. They have the brand name cream and pessary. And it was right there if I’d only looked.

  Yep.

  After that oh-so-rewarding experience with the locals, I returned back to the hostel, to find new tourists had taken over Mark and Joe’s beds in the dorm room. I ignored them, climbing into bed and trying to sleep while the cream – hopefully – started to work. That was about twenty hours ago, and I haven’t got back up yet.

  I just feel a bit like giving up. What’s the point? Like, what am I doing here? If this has been about learning who I really am, I think I have, and honestly, I do not care for her. Mark was right, I suck. I’d rather go back into denial now. I’d rather not know what a selfish, unlikeable bitch I am.

  And I really would quit and go back to England right now – this very fucking second – but it’s not like there’s anything waiting for me back at home anyway, is there? I have no home, no job, no family waiting for me. Mark’s not talking to me. I don’t even know for sure where he is – maybe Australia like he said. Or maybe he went home if he was really upset. Maybe he and Joe have even continued on the Thai adventure without me. And my best friend Eva isn’t exactly desperately waiting for me to come back. She’s busy talking behind my back with Mark, while building her lovely grown-up nest with Jeremy and the baby. She doesn’t want me in the way, bothering her and interrupting her special family time. No one needs me, nobody wants me. I am a waste of space. Maybe I really have pushed everyone away.

  I pull out my phone and tap a few buttons.

  ‘Hey, are you awake?’ I type. ‘How are you? I kinda miss you and I am sad. Do you want to talk?’ I pause, my finger hovering over the send button.

  I am arguing with myself.

  I’ve come so far. Do I really want to start this again?

  I haven’t messaged TD in weeks. I was finally feeling good about it. Over it. Do I really want to ruin that with this message? Get sucked back into his twat vortex? I don’t – I really don’t – but I am also so fucking lonely and there is no one else who will make me feel that familiar way. That safe, bad way I’m so used to feeling.

  I just need to hear some kind words. I need to hear from someone that they care about me, even if it is meaningless and hollow and too complicated.

  But will it make me feel better? Or just even worse?

  I think I know the answer to that.

  Defeated, I delete the un-sent message and throw my phone back under the covers.

  My phone beeps and I pick it back up. It’s my lovely Clara from the Ayahuasca retreat.

  ‘You fancy a chat on the phone?’ she’s written, and a tear rolls down my face thinking how much I fancy that.

  She picks up after one ring. ‘I’m lonely,’ she says by way of a greeting.

  ‘Oh God, me too,’ I say in a gulp. We both laugh, relieved to share the moment.

  ‘I mean,’ she explains, ‘I am having a very wonderful time travelling, but I am also a human and I think it’s OK to be lonely when you are on your own so much.’ She pauses. ‘The retreat taught me to say things like that out loud. It takes the power away. I feel less lonely now that I’ve said it out loud.’

  I nod, even though she cannot see me. One of my room mates passes through the dorm, reaching for her bag, and
glances over. She hesitates and I see myself through her eyes. A crazy-looking, red-eyed, blotchy, spotty lump who hasn’t left her bed in a full day. She must be wondering if I am going to kill her.

  She hurries out, not looking back.

  Clara clears her throat on the line. ‘Are you OK, Alice? You sound funny.’

  Reluctantly I sit up.

  ‘Yes, I’m OK,’ I say, my voice husky. ‘I’ve just been day-sleeping, I think I’m dehydrated. Hold on.’ I reach for a bottle of water by my bed and take a long drink. It helps. My brain feels less fuzzy.

  ‘It’s so nice to hear your voice, Clara,’ I say, really meaning it. ‘I miss the retreat gang already. Have you heard from anyone much?’

  ‘I miss you, too,’ she sighs. ‘Yes, I spoke to Anna and Maria yesterday! They were upbeat. They have told their truth to Anna’s wife at long last. It was very difficult but Maria said she was feeling better than she has in years. Living with a lie is not ever a good idea.’

  ‘Good for them,’ I say, delighted. ‘I hope it all works out for them, I really do. And Craig?’

  She giggles. ‘He sent me a selfie yesterday. I think it was meant to be of him with his wife, but it was just his entire hat. He said Shaman Quam is coming to visit him next summer; he wanted me to invite you. They’re going to have a Zac Efron movie marathon.’

  ‘I am definitely up for that,’ I say happily.

  ‘Hurray!’ she says. ‘And Mark and Joe must come too, how are they doing?’

  The sound of their names takes me by surprise. I take a deep breath. ‘They left me,’ I say a little melodramatically. But then, I feel melodramatic.

  ‘Oh Alice, I’m sorry, did something happen?’ she says, sounding worried.

  ‘Mark and I had a big fight,’ I say after a beat. ‘Family stuff. Things that have been hanging over us for a long time now. It was inevitable, I guess. But I’m all alone now.’