by Alison May
I wonder what time it is. I know I went to bed early. Dad tried to get me to have something to eat, but I wasn’t hungry. I’m still not. I’m not hungry. I’m not sleepy. I’m perfectly all right just lying still and counting the flowers on the wallpaper.
Every time I finish counting them, I wonder whether I should stop and do something else, like look at my phone, but then I start counting the flowers again instead. Maybe I should try to think about what happened today. I do know what happened today. I think my wedding dress is hanging up on the door, but I’m occupied keeping very still so I’m not able to look at it at the moment. I do know that Claudio decided not to get married, and so I came back to Dad’s house rather than staying in the hotel with Claudio.
It feels a bit odd. It was a bit surprising when he said he didn’t want to get married, but then it is a question that they ask, so I suppose he can give whatever answer he wants. He’s probably phoned or e-mailed lots of times. I shan’t look yet. I think I’ll count the flowers one more time.
I suppose it’s different from when he was in Italy. Then I’d check my e-mails lots and lots to see if he’d sent me one. I’d sit in front of the screen hitting refresh again and again until the new message thingy popped up.
There are still one hundred and forty-three flowers. There always are. I had flowers yesterday. I had bride flowers, and I had the flowers that one of Claudio’s friends brought around. They weren’t from him. They were from Danny and John, a sort of good luck pre-wedding present. He said John had asked him to bring them around, which was sweet. I don’t think John is normally very good at things like presents. Now I have wallpaper flowers. If I keep very still, it will all be the same.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ben
I haven’t been to sleep yet. Trix is out for the count, which given how much tequila I threw down her before we got here, is hardly surprising. I’m lying very still, so I don’t wake her up. When she wakes up we are going to have to have the talk. After we’ve had the talk I’ll either be committed to something that yesterday was still pretty much unimaginable, or we’ll definitely never be doing this again.
People kid themselves that they can have some clever modern middle way. Fuck buddies maybe? Friends with benefits? The people who say, ‘Oh yeah, we’re sort of seeing each other but it’s not that serious,’ or who claim that they’re ‘not exclusive.’ Maybe you can get away with that for a few days, three weeks absolute tops, but really the whole relationship thing, it’s kind of binary isn’t it? It’s a one or a zero. You are or you aren’t. Anything else is just delaying tactics. It’s time for a one or a zero. So really I’ve only got the time between now, which is 3.46am, and whenever she wakes up, which given the tequila might actually be a while, to enjoy this fluid state.
Enjoy probably isn’t the word. I should be applying myself to deciding what I want before she wakes up and tells me. The problem is that I don’t know. I’ve been single for a long time. I’m used to it. I have friends. I go out, but essentially it’s just me. If I want to watch bad Westerns at 3am I can. If I want to write until two in the morning and then stay in bed until two in the afternoon I can, and I like that. I clean the bathroom once a decade. I change my sheets when they start to crunch. I keep jam in the cupboard, not in the fridge. It annoys me when Claudio moves things. And with him I know it’s temporary.
Trix rolls over next to me and flings her arm across my torso. Specifically she flings her arm across my bladder, which is not great, because we drank a lot last night. I am going to need to move and go to the bathroom, which is going to mean rolling her back over, which will almost certainly wake her up. There’s nothing for it though. It’s either that or peeing in the bed. As gently as I can, I lift her arm up and slide myself out from underneath her, holding on to her wrist with one hand. I put her arm back down on to the empty bed and she sort of wriggles and murmurs, but she doesn’t open her eyes.
I take a slash without turning the light on, and don’t get back into bed afterwards. I stick one of the hotel robes on and sit down on a chair. Does watching a woman sleep have a bit of a serial killer vibe to it? I decide it’s probably OK, if the woman already knows that you’re in the room.
Her hair is all over the pillow and Trix has spread out to occupy the whole bed. I don’t think I could get back in even if I wanted too. I might not be the only one that’s a bit too used to living alone. She’s lying on her tummy and the covers have pulled down so I can see down into the curve of her back. It’s been so long. I was surprised by the sex. Not surprised that the sex happened. Once the receptionist had handed over the room key I think that was pretty much inevitable. I was surprised how well we fit. It was a bit fumbly and a bit drunken, but it wasn’t awkward. There was one moment where I was on top of her and everything was getting sweaty and sticky, as it should, and I went to lift myself up on my arms and as our bodies pulled apart it made this horrible squelchy ripping noise, like the worst fart you’ve ever heard. She just laughed and laughed. I’d forgotten how much we laughed. I’ve never been with anyone else where laughing during sex was acceptable behaviour, when really, sex is ridiculous. And then we stopped laughing and the sex didn’t feel ridiculous at all. It felt … I don’t have the words to finish the thought. It felt like there was no reason, no argument, in the world strong enough to stop us having sex again and again and again.
I don’t want to get last night out of context though. Trix, especially, was really upset by what happened at the wedding. We were both very drunk. And the room was already paid for. I would hate to think, that just because there’s history, just because we feel good together in one way, Trix automatically assumes that there’s more to it than that.
I conclude that yesterday was a day that requires further analysis, in all sorts of ways. So far as I know, nobody’s actually spoken to Claudio since he walked out of the church. To be honest, I’m struggling to care. I mean, I hope he’s not in intensive care or anything, but, beyond that, I don’t know.
I walk across the room and find the trousers I was wearing yesterday. I pull my phone out of the pocket. 6 missed calls. I look at the call list. Five from Mum, and one from Danny. Neither of them have left messages. I look at the time. One from Danny after he left us last night. I hope he’s come to his senses over John, but, realistically, I’m more likely to be getting another earful of abuse when he does get hold of me. I feel guilty about Mum. I didn’t even talk to her and Dad before I left the church. I look at the clock. Still before five am. They’ll have to wait until morning now.
‘What are you doing?’
I turn around. Trix is sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up to cover her breasts.
‘Just looking to see if Claudio had rung.’
‘Has he?’
I shake my head.
‘Good. I hope he’s lying in a gutter somewhere.’
‘Trix …’
‘Well I do. How long have you been awake?’
I shrug. ‘Not long. You?’
‘I remember you going to the toilet.’
‘Sorry. I tried not to wake you.’
‘That’s OK.’
I move over and sit on the edge of the bed. ‘So …’
She puts her hand out and touches my arm. ‘Yeah.’
‘This was all a bit unexpected.’
She pulls her hand away. ‘Is that a complaint?’
‘No. No. I just don’t quite know what to make of this. You. Me, you know.’
She’s closed her eyes. She looks exhausted. When she opens her eyes again she shrugs. ‘I don’t know ...’
‘Sssh.’ I put my finger against her lips. Even to me it feels like a bit of a cheesy move, but I don’t know how else to stop her talking. ‘We can worry about it later. You look like you need to sleep.’
‘Oh, thanks.’
‘You just look tired.’ I take a breath. ‘I’m trying to be nice. Help me out.’
She leans forward and rests her head against me.
I put my arms around her back and hold her like that for a moment.
‘Ben.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Trix
It must be the sound of my phone ringing that finally wakes me. It’s lying on the floor next to the bed. As I lean off the bed to pick it up I feel my stomach contract.
‘Hello.’
It’s Tony. He says Henri won’t get out of bed. Well, of course she won’t. It’s the middle of the night.
‘That’s OK. It’s only …’ There’s a clock on the bedside table. ‘It’s only ... oh.’ It’s eleven o’clock, which is not late for me, but is about four hours late for Henrietta. But she did have a horrid day yesterday. You can’t really blame her for wanting to hide out for a while.
‘Isn’t it better to let her sleep?’
‘She’s not asleep. She’s just lying there. She won’t move.’
I sit up on the bed very carefully. ‘OK. I’ll come over. Give me an hour.’
As soon as I hang up I regret promising to go round. I don’t want to get out of bed myself. It’s at least forty-five minutes to drive to Tony’s house, and my car’s still at home. I’m probably still over the limit anyway. I can’t say no though. If she wasn’t my friend, Henri would never have met Claudio, would she? It was me that encouraged her to move out of her dad’s house. It was me that encouraged her to meet all my friends.
I lie back down, not through choice. My body just decides it needs to be horizontal for a bit longer. Lying down takes enough pressure off my head for my brain to start to work, and as soon as it starts to work, it starts to wonder where the hell Ben is.
I let my mind jump through the events of last night. There was tequila. There was, I am aware, some sex. I decide to skim over the details of that. There will, I’m sure, be more than enough time spent worrying about that later. Then we went to sleep, and now I’m awake.
Something is nagging at my brain, telling me that that isn’t quite it. There’s more. I swallow. It tastes of … well it doesn’t taste good. We went to sleep and then we woke up, and then I was sick. I definitely remember being sick in the en suite bathroom. I pull the covers back over my head as I realise that someone was holding my hair out of the way when I threw up. Logically, that can only have been Ben. So I ended our night of unbridled passion crouching naked over the toilet bowl.
I hear the room door opening, and pull the covers tighter around me.
‘Are you awake?’
It’s Ben. I’m not sure whether I’m relieved that it’s not a cleaner trying to chuck me out of a room I clearly have no legitimate right to be in, or horrified that it’s Ben.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Shall I take that as a yes?’
I stick my head out from the covers and look at him. He’s wearing the dress trousers and shirt from yesterday, and carrying a shopping bag.
‘Where’ve you been?’
He tips the bag out on top of me. ‘Supplies.’
There’s paracetamol, alka-seltzer, two bottles of water, two toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, two pairs of knickers. ‘Two pairs?’
‘Small and medium.’ He shrugs.’Well, I didn’t know.’
‘You didn’t risk getting large?’
He grins. ‘I’m crap with women. I’m not suicidal.’
I sit up and help myself to two paracetamol and some water. ‘Thank you.’
He sits down on the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like death.’
‘Like death that needs to sleep some more, or death that needs to eat.’
‘Not sure. What time do we have to be out of the room?’
‘Three, I think. Claudio had booked a late check-out.’
Ben mentioning Claudio reminds me that we are staying in what was supposed to have been Hen’s bridal suite. My stomach contracts again with the thought. ‘It feels wrong being here.’
Something flickers across his face. ‘Right. Well, you’d better get dressed then.’
He picks one of the toothbrushes and the toothpaste off the bed and heads into the bathroom. I don’t feel like moving, but I’m not liking having the disadvantage of nudity while Ben strides about like he lives here. I pull on the knickers (medium) that Ben bought and pick my bridesmaid dress up off the floor. With me in this and Ben in half a tuxedo it’s not exactly hard to work out what happened to us last night. I clamber into the dress anyway. It’s either brazen out a cab ride of shame in yesterday’s clothes or brazen it out naked, and I’m not really feeling particularly brazen this morning.
Ben strides back out of the bathroom. ‘Are you ready to go then?’
I’m confused. A minute ago he was bringing me paracetamol and talking about getting something to eat. Now he clearly wants out of here faster than a super speedy fast thing which I would definitely be able to think of if I hadn’t drunk all the tequila in the hotel bar last night. Well, fine. He can be like that. This is exactly why I’m better off without him anyway. ‘I’m just going to use the bathroom.’
I pick the second toothbrush up and shuffle past him with as much dignity as my hangover and bridesmaid shoes combination will permit. I pee and brush my teeth as quickly as I can manage and stalk out into the bedroom. Ben is sitting on the bed. ‘I don’t get it.’
I can do without this now. ‘What?’
‘Well now being here feels wrong. What about last night?’
I really don’t want to get into this. I mean, if he wasn’t so proud then he could be honest about his feelings, and we might be able to have an adult conversation. ‘Last night was last night.’
‘Look Trix.’ He’s closed his eyes. He always does that when he’s uncomfortable. It’s like he’s trying to separate himself from the conversation somehow. ‘I know how you feel.’
‘What?’
‘I heard Claudio and Danny talking. I know you still have feelings for me.’
This is ridiculous. ‘I have feelings for you? You’re the one that’s still in love with me.’
‘What?’
‘I heard Danny telling Henri.’
There’s a silence. Ben is looking right at me. You can almost see the cogs spinning behind his eyes. I won’t admit it to him, but he does actually get there a second before me, well quite few seconds before me. To be blunt, I’m none the wiser until he spells it out. ‘You heard Danny telling Henri I was in love with you, and I coincidentally overheard Claudio talking about you being in love with me.’
He shakes his head and starts to laugh.
‘So you think this is funny?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No. We’ve been deceived by our friends. We were tricked into all this.’
‘Tricked into sleeping together?’
‘Yes.’ I can’t believe Henri was involved in this. She’s a terrible liar. It’s like being tricked by Snow White. It shouldn’t be possible.
‘Trix, if anything we were alcoholed into sleeping together.’
‘Alcoholed isn’t a word.’
‘All right then. Tequila’d. We have no one to blame but ourselves.’
‘So you don’t think we were tricked?’
‘Well not into what happened last night.’
‘So you didn’t do it because you thought I ...’ I can’t say ‘loved’ … ‘was fond of you.’
He doesn’t answer, so I continue. ‘I don’t think Danny and Henri were far off the mark about you though. I think it was pretty clear how you felt last night.’
‘And what about you? If anyone has feelings, it’s you for me!’
‘Hardly. I took pity on you.’
‘And I was drunk. Clearly, my judgement was impaired.’
‘So you’re not in love?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Good. Me neither.’
Ben stuffs his hands in his pocket. ‘Fine.’
‘Right. Fine.’
If this was a soap opera we’
d have yelled those last few lines at one another and ended up nose to nose, before jumping on each other with passionate kisses and ripping each other’s clothes off. It’s not a soap opera though, so we mutter at each other from opposite sides of the room, and end up in an awkward silence. At least we’re clear about where we stand though. Ripping each other’s clothes off, again, could have been seen as a mixed message.
We share a cab back into town without talking. I get my phone out and ring Tony to explain that I’m running late, and then busy myself deleting old texts and not looking at Ben. When the taxi pulls up at my house I get out without even making eye contact. I fling a ‘See you then’ over my shoulder and bolt indoors.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Henrietta
Dad comes back into the room. He tells me that Trix is here. Would I like to get up to see her? Would I? Maybe I would, but I don’t think I shall. Would I like Trix to come up here and see me? I don’t answer. I don’t really mind one way or the other.
I hear Dad go back downstairs. There are thirteen stairs. I can hear voices. He’s probably telling Trix that I won’t get out of bed. It’s not that I won’t though. I just don’t want to yet. I just feel like being very still. Someone is coming upstairs now. It’s not Dad. The steps are too quick. It must be Trix. She knocks very gently on the door, and when I don’t reply she puts her head around the door.
‘Can I come in?’
I don’t say anything, so she comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. It turns out people don’t really need me to do anything very much. They just do exactly what they wanted anyway. Maybe I can be quiet and still forever. I wouldn’t be surprised if no one really noticed.
‘How are you feeling?’
How am I feeling? I’m not really feeling anything. It’s not unpleasant in its way.
‘Your dad said you didn’t want to get up.’
I don’t deny the fact.
‘You know that you’ll have to get up at some point, don’t you? You’ll need to go to the toilet at least, and maybe eat something.’
