Queenie

by Candice Carty-Williams

  “No. You aren’t doing it. Think of your grandmother,” Darcy warned. “Be careful, please, I don’t want you to jump back into a pattern that made you ill in the first place. Remember why you’re going on a date and not just meeting him at his house, because you want something long-last—”

  “Darcy! He is an adult, I am an adult. Sort of. Yes! I am less of an adult than him but he is an adult grown man and I’m a grown woman like Beyoncé sings and he surely will respect me enough to continue things if he so wants to. Both adults—”

  I stopped talking when a man walked into the bathroom. “ ’Scuse me, sir!” I slurred, looking around for another woman to back me up and chase this pervert out. I only saw urinals.

  “Sssssorry.” I walked out of the men’s toilets and put my phone back in my bag, managing to walk in a straight line to the table. Balding Alpha was tapping on his phone. He looked up as I sat back down, placing it facedown on the table.

  “Ready?” He smiled, standing up and grabbing the bottle of wine. We left the bar and crossed the road. Balding Alpha slipped his hand in mine, and I wondered if it took me more than five seconds to pull my hand out of his because I was drunk, or because the counseling had worked.

  As we walked back to his house, he spoke, at length, about himself. I didn’t mind, because I wasn’t entirely sure that anything that came out of my mouth was going to make any sense.

  “Here we are!” he said, as we got to one of those ex–council houses that have in recent years been bought either by property developers or by young people whose parents are happy to “help with the deposit.”

  “Come in.”

  A wall of heat hit me as I stumbled in. I looked around and familiarized myself with his house; if I knew where everything was, I’d be able to keep my anxiety at bay.

  “I’m going to hang my suit up, but let me just—” He bent down and kissed me, me having to crane my neck ninety degrees to work with his height.

  He left the kitchen so swiftly that I was left standing there, pouting as though kissing the Invisible Man. I was thirsty and thought it might be weird to look for a cup, so I stuck my head under the tap and turned on the cold faucet.

  “You could have asked for a glass,” Courtney said, walking back into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

  “But you might have laced all of your glasses with drugs,” I said, wiping water from my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “What?” he said, going to the cupboard and retrieving two wineglasses. I watched his body, openmouthed.

  “Nothing.” I gulped as I took in the muscles that rippled down his back. “Do you go to the gym a lot?”

  “Jujitsu. The torso ain’t what it was ten years ago, though.” He turned to face me and patted his six-pack.

  “What was it ten years ago?” I marveled. “Are you sure you’d want to see me naked? I don’t go to the gym at all, and the thing that I eat most is chocolate. I mean it. Like family-size bars.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Balding Alpha said, leading me into the living room “. . . you have a beautiful face.”

  * * *

  “Wait here, I’m just gonna go and get a condom,” Balding Alpha said presumptuously, as he stood up and turned to look at me. Wait—at what point had he decided that we were going to have sex? He bent and pulled the shoulder of my dress down, licking the skin underneath. “Tastes like chocolate,” he said as he left the living room. Why was I surprised?

  When he came back into the room, I was getting my coat on. “Where are you going so soon?” he asked, flopping onto the sofa and pulling me down with him.

  “Ah, I think I should go. I’m not feeling so good.”

  “Nah, you’re fine, sit down,” he said, stroking my thigh. That did actually make me feel not so good.

  I opened my mouth to say: “Sorry, I just feel like I shouldn’t do this. I don’t think I have a very good relationship with sex, and I thought I was getting better, and this is the worst idea and also what you said was racist, whether you know it or not, so I’m going to take myself home.” But instead I said: “The chocolate thing. Why?”

  “The chocolate thing?” He laughed nastily. “I knew you were one of those.”

  “One of what?”

  “One of those Black Lives Matter girls.”

  “Of course I am. It says it really high up on my dating profile.”

  At least I no longer had to worry about how I was going to sober up. I was halfway to stone-cold sober in a second.

  “Don’t you think it’s just a stupid movement?” he asked me, quite seriously. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I’m not racist or anything [always good to say it!], but don’t you think it causes more problems than it solves?”

  “Yeah, I really need to go.” I sighed, bored with the discussion before we even got into it. “This is a bit much for a first date, Courtney.”

  “Really? I thought you’d want to be challenged, strong black woman like you?” he said, arrogance flashing across his face. “We can sit and talk about music, about films, about all that nonsense, but don’t you want proper conversation, proper stimulation?”

  “Well, not when it’s about this. I expected to go for a drink with a nice man and talk about everything but this. I shouldn’t have to defend myself and my beliefs.” I sighed again.

  “Sorry, no, come on, I don’t want to upset you. Let’s talk about something else.” He poured himself more wine as I looked at him, knowing exactly what would come out of his mouth next. “I bet you think that you can’t be racist to white people, too.”

  * * *

  Two hours. We debated, nonstop, for two hours. I kept my coat on. One hundred and twenty minutes of me having to explain why the Oxford English Dictionary definition of racism that he kept waving in my face was tired, how racism is systemic, how reverse racism was NOT a real thing, why it wasn’t okay to refer to his Senegalese friend Toby as “black as the ace of spades,” while he tried to counter and manipulate all of my points and say, at the end of every other sentence, “but don’t listen to me, I just like to provoke.”

  “That’s the thing about people who love to play devil’s advocate!” I shouted. “There’s no emotional involvement in it for you, there’s nothing at stake!”

  I made my way to the front door. “It must be nice to be so detached from a life that someone like me actually has to live.” I slammed the door behind me. Unbelievable.

  THE CORGIS

  Darcy

  Queenie, you’ve never put the phone down on me before. Can you let us know you’re okay?

  Kyazike

  What happened?

  Darcy

  She called me from the pub, I was trying to tell her not to go home with this guy, she said something about being like Beyoncé, and the line went dead. She was really drunk

  Kyazike

  Do you know where they were?

  Darcy

  A pub in Brixton, I don’t know the name, I can meet you at the station and I can find it by foot

  Kyazike

  Aight, cool, let’s wait until 11. If she hasn’t replied by then, I’ll come meet you

  Queenie

  I’M FINE

  Queenie

  Sorry

  Queenie

  SORRY

  Kyazike

  KMT

  Darcy

  KMT indeed

  Queenie

  Sorry both. I bet you didn’t miss how much of a liability I am! Anyway, my battery died, I just got home. Will explain all tomorrow

  Queenie

  I just snuck back into my grandparents’ and I think my grandmother has just woken up, so actually you might never hear from me again

  Queenie

  You must have been REALLY annoyed to say kiss my teeth, Darcy, sorry again

  * * *

  I popped into Kyazike’s bank the next day and stood in line until I was close enough for her to look up and make eye contact with me. She left the woman she was serving a
nd came over to me.

  “Hello, madam, I am so glad that you could come in for your appointment.” Why was she talking to me like a robot? “If I can just lead you to the consultation room? I’ll be with you shortly.” Kyazike whisked me into a frosted-glass compartment in the corner of the bank and closed the door behind me.

  Five minutes of me playing with the pen chained to the desk later, Kyazike walked in carrying various folders and shut the door.

  “You might be the only bank in the country with these pens attached to the desk,” I said, yanking it. “Is the stationery that valuable?”

  “Fam, did you hear how I have to switch up my voice out there? The new manager, some prissy white woman, has told me that I need to speak ‘better.’ Doesn’t want me to ‘intimidate customers.’ Can you believe that? The only person I’m intimidating is her, fam.” Kyazike kissed her teeth. “This shit gets on my nerves.” She sat opposite me. “Anyway, what’s good?”

  “Hanging,” I groaned. “For the first time in ages.”

  “That’ll teach you.” Kyazike laughed. “So how was it, then? Was the beating from your grandma worth it?”

  “My date with Balding Alpha?” I winced at her volume and at the memory. “Proper racist. He said some very questionable things last night.”

  “Huh?” Kyazike furrowed her brow. “Like what?”

  “At one point he asked if I agreed that young black women got pregnant just so they could get council houses, to which I obviously asked if he’d taken something—”

  “Tell me you’re joking, fam.”

  “I wish I was. He said all sorts of things that made me want to set his house on fire!” Kyazike clenched her fist. “And do you know what, this all began when he accused me of being a ‘Black Lives Matter girl.’ ”

  “This is making me so fucking mad—do you want me to get some black boys to run up in his house, raid the ting?” Kyazike offered.

  “No, no!”

  “ ’Cause then he’ll know that black lives matter, trust me.”

  “No, that’ll give him justification to keep on thinking that we’re all aggressive. But thank you.” I patted her on the hand. “I just don’t know where it came from. All of his texts were so tame!”

  “I fucking hate chiefs like him. He knew what he was doing, you know, it’s calculated. I’ve heard about guys like him. White guys who like to bait black girls, use them for what they want, then humiliate them. I bet he waited until getting you drunk and back to his house to start with his Jim Crow nonsense. He did, innit?” I nodded, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, fam. I know you thought this one was a good one.”

  “I did, I did,” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “But if anyone was going to get back on the dating horse and end up in the house of a neo-Nazi, it was going to be me.”

  “Queenie. He might have been a neo-Nazi, but all men are trash, innit.” Kyazike shrugged. “At least this might finally stop you from dating white guys.”

  chapter

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  AFTER TRYING AND failing to convince my grandmother that my hangover was a mysterious illness, I’ve been on some sort of adult grounding for the last three weeks. I’ve been allowed to go to work and come home, and do my usual million chores at the weekend. There was a new and exciting development that hadn’t actually benefited me at all, my grandparents were converts to believing that actual mental health illnesses exist, and have thrown the term relapse at me a million times.

  Today, though, I was free, and to celebrate, I was going to go to the cinema on my own after work.

  The working day was getting easier. Not in the way of a Karate Kid wax on-wax off–style, improving-by-the-hour montage or anything, only that I didn’t want to run screaming from the building now. And, if I kept this up, with the money from my mum, I could think about renting somewhere. I could live on my own, which will obviously come with huge adjustment hurdles, but, crucially, those issues could be overcome.

  The perks of behaving properly at my job and actually doing the work meant that I was actually having to do more stuff because my colleagues and bosses were seeing me as a responsible professional human. Determined to get to the 6 p.m. showing after work, I battled through and left only an hour late. The lift doors opened for me to go down and I stepped in, and looked up.

  “Queenie!” Ted looked frightened to see me. “Have a nice evening,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly.

  I turned to step out, but the doors closed before I could. I kept my mouth shut and stood as far away from him as I could, practically becoming one with the metal walls. I could hear him breathing loudly, rapidly. I looked over quickly. He was sweating. We got to the ground floor and I shot out, throwing my security pass at the barriers and crossing the foyer at the speed of light.

  I escaped from the building and, when I was sure that he couldn’t see me, sat on a bit of wall. My chest tightened, and I could feel the first swoops of panic. I closed my eyes and breathed in for three seconds, then out for eleven. Panic was coming at me in choppy waves. My legs began to shake, so I leaned onto them with my elbows to keep them still. I squeezed my eyes closed tighter and tried to remember my safe space. My arms started to shake so much that my elbows slipped off my thighs.

  I sat up and opened my eyes. Why wasn’t this working? I looked ahead. Ted was in front of me. Far away, but close enough for us to see each other. Next to him, a woman. She was turned away from me, so all I could see was that she was blond, and wide-set. Ted turned on his heel so that I was looking at both of their backs. I couldn’t look away. He put his arm around the blond woman and tried to steer her away. “Where are we going?” I heard her ask.

  “We need to go this way!” he said.

  “But the Tube station is this way!” she said, turning around and looking past me. I was hardly anything of significance. What was of significance to me, though, was that her stomach swelled outward and her hands caressed a very sizable bump lovingly.

  THE CORGIS

  Kyazike

  I’d wanna know, if I was her

  Kyazike

  Rather be single than married to a cheat who was fucking about when I was pregnant

  Darcy

  I feel sorry for her, but imagine how bad Queenie would feel if the revelation sent his wife into premature labor?

  Kyazike

  Can you at least get him fired?

  Queenie

  But that would mean throwing myself under the bus with him

  “Queenie.” My chair was turned around and I came eye-to-eye with Gina. “Eyes on the computer, not the phone,” she said, spinning my chair back around so that I was facing my screen. “Don’t let me down. Please.”

  “Sorry, Gina, no, I’m not. I wouldn’t,” I whispered after her.

  I did actual work for the rest of the day with only one very small break to set up a flat viewing, asking for one of the women estate agents to show me around this time and arranging to bring Kyazike with me. Is this what growing into an adult woman is—having to predict and accordingly arrange for the avoidance of sexual harassment?

  I started to pack my bag at five, ready to meet Kyazike before the viewing as soon as it hit five-thirty. By now I was well versed in estate agents showing you the place with ten other people waiting to go in after you, and I was determined to get there first.

  On my way back from the loo pre-leaving, I saw Ted lurking by the kitchen and sped up to get to my desk. By 5:31, I was in the lift. I walked out of the building and smack-bang into him, his eyes red-rimmed and his usually pristine every-strand-has-a-place hair a mess. He took a sharp drag of his cigarette and pulled it from his mouth. “Please, let me speak to you,” he said, his voice wavering. He snatched at my arm with a free hand.

  “Fuck off,” I growled, trying to pull my arm out of his grip. He was stronger than he looked.

  “Let me talk to you. I need to explain, please. I need to do this.”

/>   “Exactly! You need to do this for you, it’s not about me,” I said, panic rising again. “It’s always about you. I’ve only ever been a need for you to fulfill, I realize that now. Please leave me alone. If you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream.”

  “Sorry.” He let go of my arm. “Don’t you see, this is what you do to me!”

  “No, it’s not me doing anything. It’s you, you get fixated on things and you’re consumed by the latest source of excitement until you get what you want from it, Ted.” I was so frustrated that I could have burst into tears on the spot. “Fuck off!”

  “I need you to forgive me,” he pushed.

  “What, why?” I shouted. I didn’t care who was looking.

  “Can we go to our place, to the park?” he said.

  “No, Ted, we can’t. If there’s something you need to say, please say it here and now, and then I’m going. I mean it.” I started my calming breathing.

  “Fine,” he said, dropping his voice. “I’ve had two major breakups in my life, Queenie. And after each of them, I . . .” He paused for dramatic effect. “I tried to take my own life. Nobody knows this. Just my family, obviously, because they had to pick up the pieces, and . . . my wife.” He paused again. “I just—I couldn’t deal with the thought of being alone. So when my wife came along, well, before she was my wife, I knew that because she was older and wanted children soon, she wouldn’t leave me. So we got married. And everything since has all been so quick, and I should have thought about it, I know, but I didn’t, because I was just so relieved not to have to be alone anymore, but then I met you, and you turned my life upside down.” Another pause. “You said it yourself. You’re young, and you’re so appealing, with your beautiful big lips, that skin, and those curves.” He stopped talking to light another cigarette. “Do you have anything to say?” he asked after taking an aggressive drag. “Don’t you care about what I’ve just told you?”