What's a Girl Gotta Do?

by Holly Bourne

  Though Will had confused all of us by ordering two bottles of Merlot.

  “No one our age is supposed to drink Merlot,” Evie said. “I don’t even know what Merlot is. But I know I’m too young to be drinking it.”

  But two bottles had become four bottles and we’d warmed to the taste of red wine. It was cold outside and it got dark so quickly. The wine just felt right in my stomach as I stared out into the blackness and wondered how we’d managed to get away with everything.

  “So, Will,” Amber said, her voice all loud from drunk. “How have you found it spending the week with feminist freedom fighters?”

  He eyed her over his glass, taking in her red-wine smile. He seemed very sober, even though he’d had the same amount as us.

  “I’ve got good footage today, that’s all that matters.”

  “Yeah but…” Amber swirled her glass in the air. “Aren’t we showing you things to think about? Changing your mind a little bit? Just a little?”

  “No,” he answered simply.

  “How not? With everything Lottie’s pointing out?”

  “Don’t bother,” I called over the table.

  Will shot me a look that I couldn’t figure out. He picked up his glass, all sophisticated, sipping it like a proper grown-up, and turned to Amber again.

  “Why do you care that I don’t agree with you? Why are all of you obsessed with getting me to agree with you?”

  “Why aren’t you answering my question?”

  He shrugged – took another sip.

  Evie answered for him. “He doesn’t like having opinions other people have, do you, Will?”

  He raised one eyebrow, but tauntingly didn’t reply. We all just glared at him, distracted only by Megan’s head falling down onto the table.

  “I hate men,” she declared, slurring her words messily. “You’re all shits, you know that? You’re all UTTER SHITS.” She leaned back, and I saw her eyes fall back into her head.

  Yikes – she was proper wasted.

  Amber put an arm around her, trying to hush her and stop us getting noticed. Megan buried her face into Amber’s shoulder and surprised us all by breaking into sobs. Her cries came from a place deep inside of her – the kind of hollow sobs that have been suppressed for too long. None of us knew what to do. Amber pulled Megan gently to her feet, and they disappeared into the ladies’ loos.

  Some of the old regulars were looking at us.

  Will wrinkled his nose. “What was all that about?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied.

  Will crossed his arms. “She can’t go around making generalizations like that anyway. You should honk your horn! Isn’t it sexist for her to say all men are shits?”

  “SHUT UP, WILL,” Evie and I said at the same time.

  He crossed his arms tighter and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I see. One rule for boys, another totally different rule for girls.”

  “SHUT UP, WILL,” we both said again.

  “Christ,” I said. “For once, will you stop trying to win the debating Olympics? Have you even thought what might cause Megan to say something like that?”

  “Hypocrisy? Reverse sexism?” The way he tilted his head implied maybe the wine had got to him too, but I didn’t care.

  “Not now, okay.” And I stood up and followed Amber and Megan into the loos – leaving Evie to tend to his poor ego.

  I heard the wails before I pushed open the door. Inside, I saw Amber perched on the loo, Megan’s head lolling into her shoulder, crying down her front. Amber was stroking her hair, shushing in her ear, trying to calm her down. She looked up when I blasted in and nodded me forward.

  “Megan?” I cooed, kneeling down on the grimy floor. “Megan, what’s wrong, honey?”

  She shook her head into Amber. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  Another sob signalled that she was quite the opposite.

  “Megan, what is it? You can tell us. We’re here for you.” I stroked her back, while Amber stroked her hair.

  “Everything’s just so messed up,” she croaked. “I’m so messed up. I don’t know who I am any more… I… I…”

  “Is it…?” I was about to ask about Max but Amber shot me a warning glance. “The wine?” I changed tack, making frantic eyebrow motions back at Amber. Why shouldn’t we prompt her to talk about it?

  Megan lifted her hair and I almost flinched. Her eyes were red raw from crying, her make-up everywhere. She looked so…lost. Like her entire being was a puzzle and she couldn’t fit the pieces together.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m ruining everything. I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot, I’m such a stupid idiot.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I cooed.

  “Yes, there is. I’ve ruined your day… I’ve ruined everything… I ruin everything. No one will believe me if…if…”

  My heart started beating really quickly. “If what?” I shot Amber another look.

  Megan stared right into me, her eyes streaming… She opened her mouth, and I knew then…she was going to tell us, and we could tell her it was okay, that we believed her, that we’d help her go to the police, that we understood.

  “I…I…I’m going to be sick.”

  Like a pro, Amber swung Megan’s head around so she was face-down in the loo. Just in time too. We sat on the floor, rubbing her back as she retched up over and over.

  “How much wine did she have?” I asked Amber. “She’s wasted!”

  “I’m not sure. But before you came in, she was saying she’d not had any breakfast or lunch. She said she didn’t ‘deserve to eat’…”

  “That’s worrying.”

  “That is totally worrying.”

  Another loud retch and a splashing noise.

  “She needs to talk to someone,” I whispered more urgently. But Amber, again, gave me a look that made my arm hairs stand on end.

  “She just needs to do whatever she needs to do in her own time.”

  “She should go to the police.”

  Amber properly rolled her eyes at that, stabbing through my feelings. “Honestly, Lottie. We don’t even know it’s a police issue. And what you want to do isn’t always what’s right for everyone, you know?”

  My face burned red, my throat stuck together. Amber never told me off! We never snapped at each other. And it hurt so much I almost wanted to push Megan’s head out the loo so I could take a turn retching into it.

  I didn’t reply. I was too stunned. Too stinging.

  We stayed with Megan, not talking. I was too upset to talk – upset at Amber, at what had happened with Megan… I’d thought maybe today – her joining us – would help…

  Evie came in to check on us. “Will’s said sorry,” she said. “Though he prefixed it with ‘I don’t know why I’m apologizing but…’” She wrinkled her nose. “Anyway, he’s offered to help us take her back.”

  Megan had stopped vomiting and was now just howling into the toilet bowl, wailing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over.

  “Megan?” Amber asked, her voice all soft. “You think you’re okay to get up?”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it…so sorry…ruined everything…”

  “It’s okay, you don’t need to worry. Can you get up?”

  With aid, Megan stumbled to her feet, her jeans splattered with toilet flush and God knows what else.

  “I’ll go get Will ready,” Evie said, as Amber and I propped Megan up between us.

  “Do you know where she lives?” I asked Amber, breaking our uncomfortable silence.

  “I think she’s near me,” Amber mumbled, refusing to make eye-contact. “We sometimes bump into each other on the walk into college. But I’m not entirely sure.”

  “Megan?” I adjusted my weight so I could hold her up better. “Can you tell us your address?”

  “Beech Drive,” she muttered into her chest, her hair falling all over her face.

  “Yep, that’s near me,” Amber said. “Come on, Megs, we’re going.
”

  Evie pummelled through the doors again to tell us Will had found a back entrance. “Everyone’s less likely to see us.” I thanked Will silently in my mind.

  He arrived at the toilet threshold, and took her off us, putting Megan’s arms around his neck and talking to her. “Hey, Megan, it’s Will. Yes…I know…I’m an arsehole…yep…a giant one… shall we just go out and get some air? I don’t know about you, but I’m boiling in this pub.”

  “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. Look, here’s the door, shall we go through it then?”

  Just as I was marvelling at his total personality transplant into “caring individual”, Evie nudged me. “We need to get the bags.”

  “You’re very good at thinking of everything,” I said.

  She tapped the side of her head and smiled. “Comes with the territory.”

  We left them with the task of getting Megan out unnoticed, and returned to our table to collect up bags, coats, scarves and all the other bundles of paraphernalia you need when you go on an activist mission during winter. Looking at the table I felt really sad and sobered up. It had been our celebration table – our triumph table. But all the euphoria had dribbled out. I began picking stuff up, swinging three backpacks across my shoulders.

  Did you really think shoving a few hilarious T-shirts on underweight mannequins would help Megan? I thought to myself. Did you honestly think pasting a few Post-its in a book would stop awful stuff happening? You’re deluded, Lottie.

  “You all right?” Evie asked – I’d frozen mid tidy-up.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not though.” You couldn’t get any hidden emotions past Evie, she snuffled them out like an emotion truffle-pig.

  I gave her a small smile. “But I will be.”

  Evie picked up the glasses and took them to the bar, where the barman nodded thanks. I marvelled at her – holding them between her fingers without even going to wash her hands afterwards. What a difference a year (and meds and intensive therapy) could make.

  “Evie?” I asked, as we picked up the final scarves draped around the chairs.

  “Yes?”

  “When you…got sick…you know? Last year?”

  “Did I?” She laughed, and I laughed too. She’d been so undeniably sick it was…well…undeniable. She’d even ended up on a psychiatric ward.

  “You may not remember it.” I smiled. “A minor blip.”

  “Oh yes, that one. What about it?”

  My face fell serious for a moment. “When you thought about everything you needed to get over to feel…well…well again…did it all seem too much?”

  Evie sat down on the seat suddenly, folding the scarf she’d been holding. I hoped it was okay I was asking her about it.

  “Oh yeah,” she said without pausing. “It definitely felt too much. Thus the whole…like…freefall-into-madness thing.”

  I smiled sadly. “What happened to make you feel it was worth trying to fight?” I asked, choosing my words carefully. “What made you think it had…a point, I guess?”

  She folded the scarf smaller and I wondered if I was going to piss off both my best friends in one evening. “I didn’t,” she answered simply. “For a long time I didn’t feel there was any point in trying to get better, I was so convinced I never would be better. It seemed too huge, too insurmountable. But then, Sarah – you met Sarah, right?”

  I nodded. Sarah was Evie’s CBT therapist and the one who invited Amber and me to visit her in hospital.

  “Well, Sarah said something one day. She said, ‘You may as well try, Evie. It can’t hurt.’ And I realized she was right. Yes, trying was exhausting and hard and meant doing everything I didn’t want to do and it seemed horribly pointless putting myself through all that if I didn’t believe it would make any difference. But then, actually, I wouldn’t know if I didn’t try. So I started trying. And, yes, for ages it felt useless. But then, day by day, I noticed a few things began to give…”

  I perched on the side of the chair, knowing we shouldn’t take much longer. It was cold out, and it looked like Amber and Will had successfully manhandled Megan out of the pub.

  “Are you having a crisis or something?” she asked, nudging me with her butt. “Is All Powerful Lottie having a blip?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just – what Megan’s going through is so huge, and so awful, and she won’t even talk about it. And I thought today would help but…what’s a few hidden tubes of cellulite cream against that?” I found my voice catching and I felt even madder at myself. My tears weren’t appropriate here, this wasn’t my drama. It was Megan’s and I felt like I was thieving it. But I couldn’t help it. I felt helpless and distraught by what she was going through. By the fact loads of girls have shitty things happen to them and don’t tell a soul.

  “Do you remember, earlier this year, when you made us read The Female Eunuch for the Spinster Club?” Evie asked.

  I nodded.

  “Well, I have to admit, I didn’t finish it all. It was HARD, Lottie. I only have a few GCSEs, remember? But anyway the bits I read and could understand were really good. And there was this one quote I kept coming back to. Especially when Teddy and his mates were so horrid to us about the jukebox thing. I can’t remember the quote verbatim, but it said something about how society can’t be changed in a lifetime. That so many people who fight for what’s right won’t see the results of their efforts before they die.”

  “Great – thanks, that’s a cheerful thought,” I laughed.

  “I’ve not finished,” Evie said. “But it says, you’ve still got to believe you’re making a difference and place your hope in it. And think about it – think of all the great freedom fighters we’ve had, and how they never got to see how monumental they were. Martin Luther King, Mary Wollstonecraft, Emmeline Pankhurst… They’d be delighted if they could see how things are now. How much the fires they lit have spread.”

  “They’d also be depressed at all the work left to do.”

  “God, you’re grumpy today!” Evie stood up. “That too. But they did change things. They had hope and belief they would, and they did. And have you thought, maybe all the things we fight against – people like you, me, and FemSoc and all the FemSocs around the country – that maybe we won’t see the change straight away, or at all? But we will have left ripples and some people somewhere in the future will be glad for our ripples and inspired to make their own.”

  I felt warm for the first time since Megan left the table. “Why are you so wise?” I asked her, looking up in awe.

  “Years and years of therapy.”

  twenty-four

  It took quite some time to get Megan home.

  She was exceedingly drunk, even after all the vomming. I was still bewildered as to how she’d managed it without our noticing.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeated into Will’s shoulder.

  Will – to give him credit – essentially carried her home, telling her it was fine, even getting her to laugh at herself through the sobs.

  Amber and I didn’t talk the whole way back. Tension crackled between us and, after initially feeling upset about it, now I felt mad. Why was she being so aggressive?

  It was Amber who rang Megan’s doorbell and explained everything to her parents while the rest of us shivered around the corner. I peered through a hedge and watched the porch of Megan’s house get flooded with orange light as the front door opened. It made Amber’s ginger hair look even more ginger. Megan’s mum – from what I could see – didn’t even look shocked. She just nodded while I watched Amber explain, and then reached out and took Megan’s hand tenderly – bringing her in for a hug. Amber waved, then the door closed and she walked back towards us.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  Amber, infuriatingly, just nodded and said, “Fine.” Not offering up any more explanation. Well, I wasn’t going to ask for one.

  Evie’s head was te
nnis-ing from me to her, her to me, chewing her lip – knowing something was up.

  “Well, I’m just round the corner.” Amber stretched her arms up. “See you guys at college on Monday?”

  I nodded, Evie did too. Will coughed, to remind us he was there maybe.

  “You’ve got your interview with the local paper on Monday after school,” he reminded me.

  “That’s so cool.” Evie’s voice was a bit too cheery to compensate for all The Atmosphere.

  “Hopefully…” I said. Amber didn’t say anything. Seriously – what had I done?

  “Well, good work today, chaps,” Evie said – still trying to be chipper. “I better get back though. You know what Mum’s like…”

  We all waved and dispersed. Will actually lived quite near me and headed off in the direction I was supposed to, but I felt like being alone, so I walked the wrong way for a while. My chat with Evie had lightened me a little, but I still felt weird and lost and overwhelmed and totally confused about Amber.