I’m just about to head back down. I need a drink.
Sunday September 25th
I’m just home and feeling rather fragile. Lucy drove and I stared out the window all the way down. So far I haven’t allowed myself to actually stop and really think about what’s going on, but I’ll have to at some point, undoubtedly at three in the morning, when I’m obsessing over this instead of sleeping.
Monday September 26th
When asked by my colleagues how my birthday trip was I smiled and said, ‘It was the best time ever, thanks!’ because telling them that my best friend ruined it all by telling me he’s in love with me wasn’t something I cared to share with them.
I got through the day by throwing myself into work and trying to ignore the voice in my head that kept telling me I should have handled the Oliver situation differently. Finally, on my way to the station, I gave Oliver a call, hoping to meet up and sort this mess out. It rang once and then went to voicemail, which I’m assuming was him rejecting my call. We’ve been friends for sixteen years – surely we can get past this?
Tuesday September 27th
As Oliver won’t answer my calls I’ve sent him thirty-two texts today, begging him to speak to me. He’ll either cave in or get the police to caution me for harassment. It’s a chance I’m willing to take as this is driving me mad. I need to speak to him. I miss him.
Wednesday September 28th
At work this morning I must have looked at my phone fifty times in the hope that Oliver had texted me back. Nothing. So I tried emailing.
From: Phoebe Henderson
To: Oliver Webb
Subject: Hi
Look, we need to sort this out. Can you blame me for being surprised at what you said? You’re the one who told me you didn’t ‘do love’, and look at your track record with women. There are millions of them, most of them much more fanciable than me. I’m a mess, Oliver, and you’d get bored with me (you know you would) and our friendship would be fucked. I don’t want that. Can’t we just go back to the way things were? Come over soon and we’ll talk. Please?
Staring at the computer screen for forty-five minutes seemed to generate a response, albeit not the one I was hoping for:
From: Oliver Webb
To: Phoebe Henderson
Subject: Re: Hi
Phoebe, there’s nothing more to say and I think it’s best we don’t see each other for a while. You’re absolutely right about my track record with women and that I would get bored with you, lord knows I’m getting close already. Anyway, I’m with Ruth – as you pointed out, she’s probably more my type physically anyway. Good luck with Alex, you’re going to need it.
Ouch! That was below the belt; nothing like hitting a neurotic girl where it hurts. I feel so sad about this. I tried clicking my heels, wishing I’d never started anything with Oliver, but it didn’t work. I guess now I know where I stand.
Friday September 30th
Alex called me this morning while I was on the train to work.
‘I’ve told her it’s over. I’ve resigned and she’s moving out. We can be together now. Can I come over tonight?’
‘If you break my heart again, I’ll fucking kill you,’ I said in a low voice, aware that everyone on the train could hear me. ‘But fine.’
‘I won’t. I promise. I’ll see you tonight.’
7.53 p.m. He’s on his way now. Of course I’m nervous about the whole thing, and it’s dawned on me what a life-changing move this is. No more Oliver, no more challenges … but on the other hand, no more horrendous dating and no more missing Alex. I hope I’m doing the right thing.
OCTOBER
Saturday October 1st
This time last year I would have happily smothered the man sleeping next to me to death and now I’m about to get up, make him coffee and give him a blow job in the shower. How did that happen? Actually I don’t care. I’m just glad that it did. We talked again for a long time last night. I think things will work out this time. I can’t help feeling a sense of relief deep down that he realized he was wrong and still loves me. He wants me to move back in with him but I’ve told him no. I want to take things slower, get to know each other again. If he wants to give us another chance he’s going to have to make the effort too. If it all goes well, we can look for somewhere new together. Too many memories in the old place, and it would smell of her and have her bum imprint in the mattress. On top of all this I feel incredibly sad about Oliver and me. He’s the last person in the world I thought would ever use the L-word with me (or tell me to fuck off and actually mean it) and I wish he hadn’t. Why did he have to change things?
Sunday October 2nd
My neighbour brought over some post that had been delivered to her house by mistake. It was an orange party invitation with a pumpkin on the front.
Dear Phoebe and Partner,
You are invited to Lucy Jacobs’s Halloween Party on
Saturday October 29th. Please come suitably dressed and with
booze. Adults only – don’t bring any children as entry will be
refused and booze confiscated. RSVP.
Hurrah! The last Halloween party I attended was held in my school gym hall. I dressed as Madonna and I won a Bros record for being the best dancer in the universe.
Alex looked at the invitation and sighed. ‘I suppose you’ll want to go to this.’
‘HELL YES! Let’s go as Che and Eva Peron!’ I said excitedly.
‘Do I have any say in this?’ asked Alex.
‘Nope. You’d make us dress like Bert and Ernie if you had your way.’
‘What’s wrong with that? Anyway, I’m not sure about going at all. Your friends hate me. It’s not the best idea.’
‘They don’t. Not really, and it’s a good time to see them again. After all – it’s a party!’
Actually I think they might lynch him. I’ll have to have a word in their ears beforehand. Alex hasn’t left my flat since he got here on Friday. It’s odd having him here; I’d become so used to having an ‘Alex-Free Zone’ that now I feel quite uneasy in my own home.
‘You should have your hair cut,’ he suddenly announced while I was showering. ‘Get something more traditional maybe, more feminine. You look a bit “emo” with that fringe.’
I ignored him. ‘So are you going to go home at any point? You don’t have any stuff here.’
‘Yeah, I’ll bring some things over later. Why don’t we go to that barbecue place tonight for dinner? I hear it’s delicious.’
‘Oh, not there. I went with Oliver for his birthday …’ I started to laugh. ‘Let’s just say I became unwell.’
‘I never liked Oliver much. He loves himself, thinks he’s God’s gift.’
‘Don’t slag him off, Alex. He’s a good guy and he doesn’t love himself.’
No, I thought. He loves me.
Monday October 3rd
Frank can be surprising sometimes. He emailed me today after the morning meeting.
From: Frank McCallum
To: Phoebe Henderson
Subject: Quick email
Phoebe,
Couldn’t help but hear (and read) that you’re back with your ex. None of my business of course, but since you’ve been helpful with your advice, I’d like to offer some of my own. Don’t. You weren’t half the woman you are now when you were with him. I like this Phoebe much better and I’d hate to see you return to that sad place you were in for so long. You can do better (not with me, I hasten to add – that ship has sailed). Ignore this if you wish, but it’s written with no agenda.
Frank
Of course I’m annoyed that he thinks he has the right to continue reading my emails and comment on my private life, but also sort of touched. It’ll get easier having Alex around again, even though he is everywhere I turn at the moment. Maybe when he gets a new job, things will be easier. He seems to want to carry on like we’ve never been apart, which I don’t. I rather want this to be like a new relationship but I know, with our hist
ory, it can never be exactly like that. The one area he hasn’t changed AT ALL is in bed. I’m pretty sure the sex is only better because I am. Working through my list has made me actually pay attention to sex and he’s obviously still ignoring it. I bet he thinks he’s great in bed. I think I’ll add another challenge to my list: Make Alex more adventurous in the sack.
Thursday October 6th
Last night I woke up with Alex’s penis digging into my back and hands on my breasts. Excellent, I thought. Now’s my chance.
I started to grind against him and whispered, ‘Is there anything you’ve always wanted to try?’
‘You mean in bed?’
‘Yeah …’
‘No.’
He moved my arse up and slid inside me, not caring whether I was actually ready or not. ‘Oh, come on, there must be something – against the wall, holding me down … sex toys? Being tied up?’ No response.
‘Come on my tits? … Finger up your bum?’
My suggestions were met with silence, but he still continued to shag me with a firm but monotonous stroke.
‘ … Alex?’
‘No, nothing. Now stop talking, you’re putting me off. I’m nearly there.’
So I remained silent for the next fifty-four seconds and resigned myself to the fact that sex for Alex was all about him and not about us. Can I live like this?
At work Stuart announced that he’s asked his girlfriend Laura to marry him and she’s said yes. I congratulated him, thinking, Would your girlfriend have agreed if she knew you shagged me in April? But maybe she does know. If this year has taught me anything it’s that a) I’m hopeless at understanding relationships, and b) sleeping with someone else’s partner is a really shitty thing to do. I thought it best to decline the invitation for celebration drinks after work and went home, dying to take a bath and chill out. Alex had arranged to meet Rob so I had the place to myself.
I brought the phone into the bathroom so I could chat to Hazel on speakerphone while I soaked.
‘Hi, Phoebe. I’m just about to get Grace to bed. How are you? How’s Alex?’
‘Good,’ I said, unsure whether that was a lie or not. ‘It’s been exhausting actually, but we’re getting there.’
‘Hmm, you sound a bit flat. Want me to come over?’
‘No, I’m fine! I’m just having a soak, then I’m going to watch some telly and get an early night. I think Alex will crash at Rob’s tonight.’
‘OK, I have to run, but call me back if you need to talk.’
She hung up and I lay in the bath for twenty minutes, turning into a giant raisin. Just as I got into bed, Alex appeared, shit-faced and stinking of pakora sauce.
‘Rob went home and I got food but I ate it on the train, so NO PAKORA FOR YOU!’ He laughed. ‘You don’t need any more pakora, do you, Phoebe?’
I didn’t even ask him what he was slurring on about. I just turned off the light and went to sleep.
Friday October 7th
The postman arrived with my Evita costume. A red and black suit and a blonde wig which admittedly, looks like the scalp of an elderly woman, but who cares. Alex’s costume will be instantaneously recognizable and it shouldn’t be too hard to put two and two together.
I rushed into work, excited to tell Lucy.
‘That sounds genius! I think I’m dressing up as Wonder Woman. I found an online shop that rents out the outfits.’
‘Boots and everything?’
‘Yup!’
‘You’re going to look sexy and I’m going to look like a politician. No fair.’
‘Behave. There will be food, booze and dooking for apples. It’ll be a night to remember!’
I had dinner out with Hazel tonight. It felt like ages since I’d last seen her. No one’s been round to my flat in days. I put on a new dress I hadn’t had the chance to wear yet and sashayed into the living room.
‘How do I look?’ I asked Alex, giving him a twirl.
He looked up from his magazine. ‘Good. I wish you’d dressed like that the first time we dated. You sure you’re meeting Hazel?’
I bit my tongue. ‘I’ll be back late; will you be here or at yours?’
‘Here. You have the good sports channel.’
‘Wrong answer,’ I said. ‘The correct answer would be: I’ll be waiting here ready to hump the shit out of you when you come home.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, Phoebe,’ he sighed. ‘It’s just not like you.’
Hazel was already there when I arrived. I gave the waiter my jacket and sat down.
‘So how’s married life then?’ she enquired, looking over the wine list. ‘Everything rosy?’
‘Yes,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s great.’ My face obviously told a different story.
‘Hmm. What’s wrong?’
‘I know Alex is … well, Alex,’ I said sipping my water, ‘but the trouble is—’
‘He hasn’t stopped being THAT Alex. Has he?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘No.’ That was exactly it.
‘Well, you can either see how it goes or you can finish it. There’s no law that says you can’t dump the same man twice.’
‘I’ve only just got back together with him! No, I made my decision, I’m not admitting defeat. Not yet. It was bound to be tricky at first.’
‘Isn’t this normally the honeymoon stage?’
‘Ugh, there’s nothing normal about this. Can we talk about something else, please?’
‘Have you heard from Oliver?’
‘Not that either. Something else.’
‘OK. Well, I was thinking about getting my tits done.’ She smiled.
‘We have a winner! Tell all.’
The waiter appeared and we ordered wine, two starters and three desserts then Hazel told me about her floppy boobs and I laughed. A lot. It was a good night.
When I got home Alex was in bed sleeping peacefully and I looked at him with puppy-dog eyes, thinking how handsome he was. Then I walked into the living room and wanted to scream. He’d rearranged all my furniture and left his shit everywhere – socks on the floor, unwashed plates in the sink and empty lager cans all over the place. My eyes were no longer puppy-dog eyes; they were big red Cujo-the-psychotic-dog eyes. I moved back all my furniture, snarling. He was starting to take over already.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said when I woke him up to demand an explanation. ‘The place looked better my way. There was more space.’
‘Alex, this is my place. At least ask before doing something like that. I prefer it this way.’
‘Suit yourself, Phoebe. It’s not important.’
‘Stop being so dismissive. It is important. To me. This is my home.’
‘You hate this place. When we get a nicer place together, things will be better.’
I let him fall asleep again before I got into bed beside him and realized there was no way in hell I was moving back in with this man.
Sunday October 9th
Alex went to the gym first thing this morning. I lay in bed, watching him pull on a pair of jogging trousers that clung to his penis like a shroud.
‘Want to come with me?’ he asked, stuffing a spare T-shirt into his rucksack.
‘No, I’m going to move from the bed to the couch. Then have croissants and coffee.’
‘Do you remember that yellow summer dress you had?’ he asked. ‘The one you used to love wearing?’
‘Oh yes! It’s hanging in the wardrobe, although I can’t fit into it any more,’ I laughed. ‘Why? Do you want to borrow it?’
‘Very funny.’ He frowned. ‘I’m asking because I’d like to see you in it again, and maybe if you lay off the croissants and come to the gym with me, I will some day.’
I threw the covers back and got out of bed. ‘That was fucking low, Alex, even for you,’ I snarled, pulling on my dressing gown. ‘I’ve gone up exactly one dress size since we split and this bothers you?’
‘No, I thought it would bother YOU,’ he replied, surprised
at my reaction. ‘It doesn’t bother you that you’ve gained weight?’
‘No, YOU bother me,’ I snapped. ‘Who do you think you are?’
He followed me into the kitchen, ‘Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. I just thought you’d want to look good again. Forget I said anything.’
‘Look good again? So, what, I don’t look good now?’
‘Of course you do; you’re pretty. You carry the weight well.’
‘Oh, do fuck off,’ I said, filling up the kettle. ‘I’ll see you later, unless I’ve eaten myself to death while you’re gone.’
I sat nursing my coffee, now too angry to eat my croissants. He’s such a pig. Oliver would never have spoken to me like that.
He came back late in the afternoon while I was reading on the couch and apologized, telling me he only wants me to be healthy and was trying to be supportive. I accepted and got back to reading my book, but I spent the remainder of the evening with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe, and despite his protests, Alex hasn’t changed one bit.
Monday October 10th
Work was the usual mixture of inane chat from Kelly and occasional bursts of song from Lucy, who’s now seeing treesurgeon Kyle again.
‘He decided not to go to Perth. It might have had something to do with the fact I’m irresistible. His words.’
‘Wow. You happy about that?’
‘Surprisingly I am,’ she said happily. ‘It’s early days, but I fear I might be entering into an actual relationship. I do believe I’m turning into you, Miss Henderson.’
‘Fuck, don’t say that. You know I only want good things for you.’
‘You’re either joking,’ she said, furrowing her brows, ‘or you think you’ve made a mistake with Alex. Which is it?’
I shrugged. ‘When I’ve made up my mind I’ll let you know.’
The List Page 25
