Shampoo

by Karina Almeroth

  Why now? Cause he found out about Matt and I.

  (took the dumbass long enough)

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” he clipped out.

  All I could think was not here. Not at work. “No. There’s not – ”

  “BULLSHIT!” he let rip, like full volume.

  “What are you SO UPSET ABOUT – ”

  “YOU TELL ME!” was his furious retort.

  “Ever, I will call you when I get home.”

  “You do that.” And he slammed the phone down in my ear.

  He was FURIOUS.

  I ran down the back stairs at 5.15pm, yelling goodbye to Matt, and he put his hands up in the air and said, “Where’s the fucking fire?”

  “I’ll call you later!” I called over my shoulder, jumping in my car. I absolutely roared out of there, hooned it all the way home. I had to get this over and done with with Ever. Enough is enough.

  He has a right to know.

  I’d barely walked in the door at 5.40pm, to a house suspiciously clear of Dan, to the phone ringing. I picked it up, dreading this moment.

  He was just plain nasty from the get go. “You FUCKING SLUT – ”

  “EX-CUSE me??!!”

  “How long have you been fucking around behind my back with him?”

  “Oh, you have NO FUCKING RIGHT – ”

  “No right?? You’re SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING WITH ME!”

  “Evvy, you didn’t even FUCKING CALL ME FOR CHRISTMAS!! How can you even CALL YOURSELF A FUCKING BOYFRIEND!”

  “I did FUCKING CALL YOU FOR CHRISTMAS, YOU JUST NEVER FUCKING CALLED ME BACK!!!”

  “Did you spend Christmas with me? Did we buy each other presents! NO, WE FUCKING DIDN’T!!!”

  “Oh, cause I DIDN’T FUCKING BUY YOU A PRESENT, YOU’RE ALLOWED TO FUCKING CHEAT ON ME – ”

  “It’s only CALLED CHEATING IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY FUCKING TOGETHER, YOU ASSHOLE – ”

  “You were SLEEPING AROUND, BEHIND MY

  BACK – ”

  “Oh, FUCK YOU, EVERARD – ”

  “Did it FEEL FUCKING GOOD!! SLEEPING AROUND BEHIND MY FUCKING BACK!!”

  “You should’ve ACTED BETTER, EVERARD, and this NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED – ”

  “Oh, FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING SLUT, for BLAMING ME, FOR YOU BEING A FUCKING WHORE!”

  We yelled. We screamed. I sobbed my fucking heart out but kept listening to his abuse for some reason. Like I deserved it.

  Or was I still just clinging onto him? I’d take him any way I could, even if he was hurling hate at me. I didn’t want to hang up, cause if I hung up, that would be it. I’d never hear from him again.

  And that was almost too much for me to bear.

  “You didn’t even FUCKING PULL YOUR FINGER OUT ONCE, EVERARD, not once!! Not once did you FUCKING TRY – ”

  “Oh, FUCK OFF I DIDN’T TRY!!”

  “Well, YOUR TRYING IS A FUCKING BAD JOKE!!”

  “I tried SO FUCKING HARD, KARINA! SO HARD, TO BE WHO YOU WANTED ME TO FUCKING BE!!”

  “Oh, what a JOKE! No, ALL YOU DID was FIGHT AGAINST BEING WHO I WANTED YOU TO BE!” I cried more then. “All I wanted was for you to be loving,” I sobbed. “To FUCKING CARE AND LOVE ME – ”

  “Well you FUCKED THAT UP, DIDN’T YOU! I don’t GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU NOW!”

  (and what did I say?? It always ends like this)

  He was hoarse from shouting so much, and he sounded devastated. I was ripped apart from that the most.

  I never wanted to hurt him. I barely knew he cared.

  “I actually felt BAD FOR YOU, how I’ve treated you these past seven months, BUT NOW I FUCKING DON’T! You didn’t FUCKING DESERVE TO BE TREATED ANY

  BETTER – ”

  That did it for me. That FLOORED me. I bawled, uncontrollably, while he continued shouting and calling me names.

  “I hope you feel bad, for hurting me like this,” I managed to splutter out.

  “FUCKING NOPE! I don’t feel bad AT ALL – ”

  I gathered all of my strength and let rip. “Well, HAPPY FUCKING WANKING, EVERARD, cause you’re NEVER GONNA FIND A GIRL WHO LOVED YOU LIKE I DID, and you FUCKING RUINED IT!”

  And I hung up on him.

  Ever Saga officially over. Just like that.

  Now that’s an ending for that love affair.

  Happy endings are for stories that haven’t finished yet. Ever and I’s story is over.

  And it really fucking breaks my heart.

  Oh, I cried my eyes out, fucking sobbed for all I was worth

  (again, a lot),

  for like half an hour. He rang back immediately too, soon as I’d hung up on his hurtful ass, over and over again. I refused to answer it.

  I wished Evvy and his hand a very long future together. Lots of happiness for the two of them.

  Then I pulled myself together. Showered, put make up on, did my hair.

  It was the only thing to help my self-esteem right then. I needed to look hot.

  (eat your heart out, you stupid fucking prick)

  The phone rang, AGAIN, and my stomach roiled.

  Would I ever be able to hear the phone ring again and not have my heart rip to shreds?? Or wonder if it’s him? Maybe not. Maybe never.

  But it was Steve. My old Tafe bestie.

  It warmed my heart, Steve ringing. It was like he knew I needed him and Andy right then, and The Three Musketeers back together again.

  Within half an hour, Steve was picking me up. I slipped out the door, determined to forget all this hurt and just move the fuck on.

  Steve knew I was upset, asked if I was okay, but I wouldn’t go into it.

  Steve and Andy know about my history with men. How to say, AGAIN, that I was distraught over yet another one? He wasn’t like Rick, but, BOY. Did Evvy hurt me tonight.

  It feels worse somehow. Maybe cause I really had loved this one. Maybe cause Rick had hurt me physically, but Everard…he got right in there under the rib cage and stuck that knife in. Repeatedly.

  It hurts far worse than being beaten, for some reason.

  Maybe it’s just cause I’m in this moment too deeply. That other moment is dimming. This one I’m still trying to survive.

  I’d sworn off men too, sworn off love. What the fuck happened?? How did I let this happen again?? Me fucking destroyed over love.

  And, oh God. Matt.

  Ever just took over tonight, and made himself damn well front and centre again. That stupid fucker.

  Steve drove to Andy’s place, and the sight of Andy walking out his front door of his parent’s mansion warmed my heart. It was so familiar, this scene, YEARS of us three doing this exact thing, picking Andy up, heading to the pub together. Watching Andy walk in that way he has, that cocky swagger of his (but really, it’s all bravado), flipping his floppy hair out his eyes, ciggie jammed in his mouth…

  It was just what I needed in my devastation. There is comfort in the familiar, in people staying exactly the same way for you, and in these boys for me. These are safe boys. I know these two love me, for me, and I feel protected by our long friendship together.

  Andy jumped in the backseat, climbing over me messily, shoving his bum in my face on purpose, I swear. I smacked him on the ass as he climbed over.

  “Get your ass out my face, boy!” Steve said in his British accent. He put the car in gear and drove away.

  “Hey, I haven’t got my fucking seat belt on, motherfucker!”

  (Andy swears more than me. Where do you think I got it from? I never used to even say shit before meeting him)

  Andy shouted, a ciggy hanging out his mouth. He slid to the other side of the car as Steve

  (crazy driving Steve, oh this I remember)

  rounded a corner too fast. “FUCK, I dropped my FUCKING CIGGY, for FUCK’S SAKE – ” There was a thud from the back seat, then a yelp, as Andy smacked his head on the car. I turned around, cracking up at him tossed about in the back seat as Steve purposely

  (I’m sure)

 
rounded corner after corner at eighty kays in his Jeep Wrangler, and Andy tried to keep leaning down to pick up his ciggy, then banging his head on something else. “Found it!” he finally yelled out in triumph, placing the ciggy back in his mouth and sliding back to the other side of the car. He started yanking on his seatbelt, and yanked and yanked and yanked, the seatbelt refusing to come out of its home and round his body. “Oh, for FUCKING FUCK’S SAKE!!!” he yelled, the ciggy once again flopping out the side of his mouth. “SHIT!”

  He was still yanking on his seat belt and trying to get the cigarette back in his mouth at the same time. “Burnt my fucking balls, it did!”

  I was seriously in fits. I’d forgotten how funny Andy is.

  Steve rounded another corner madly, and off Andy went again, slipping over to the right again, and – THUD – smacking his head on the other side of the car again. Right on the Jeep’s bar.

  I was absolutely doubled over by now, tears streaming down my face. It was too fucking funny.

  These two were just what I needed in that moment. How can one be depressed with these two in her life? I knew it then, these two were back in my life. We wouldn’t be separated again. We were besties, which is just a beautiful thing.

  You can never have too many besties.

  Andy put on an English accent, copying Steve’s. “Oh Steve, old chap…are you trying to fucking kill me??”

  Steve managed to keep a straight face. Actually, I’ve spent years thinking Steve doesn’t actually find Andy that funny, which is so weird, cause I find him hysterical. “Sorry, old man. What’s going on with you? Haven’t you got your seat belt on?” He rounded another corner too fast, and once again Andy slid across the seat and hit his head again.

  “Why don’t I just sit here and smack my head repeatedly against the fucking car’s weird metal bars?? Hey! Why the fuck not! It’s all I’m fucking doing anyway!”

  “Put your seatbelt on, old man!”

  (I love how Steve only ever calls Andy old man or Andrew. Never Andy)

  “Yeah, old man,” I managed to splutter through the fit I was having. “Put your fucking seat belt on!”

  I watched in complete mirth as Andy tried to slide back across to the other side of the seat as Steve spun round another corner. “WHO KNEW there were so many FUCKING CORNERS just to get to the FUCKING LOCAL PUB!” Andy shouted, trying madly to slide over.

  “Just sit where you are, old man!” Steve said, exasperated.

  “But I wanna sit behind Pinky,” Andy whined, as Steve rounds another corner and Andy slid back across. He banged his head again. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking joking!” He stayed where he was and started yanking on that seatbelt. “I’m fucking yanking on this fucking thing, and it WON’T COME! Fuck, this is just like me at home in the bathroom, worried fucking Jen’s about to walk in! I can’t come then, either!”

  (he always calls his dear mother Jen. Cracks me up. And if you annoy him, he’ll say to you, “Yes, JEN.” Like you’re the biggest pain in his ass)

  “Andy, have I ever told you…YOU’RE SUCH A YANKER!!” I could barely get it out. I was in fits of laughter.

  Steve finally cracked then, and laughed with me.

  “Oh ho ho, fucking ho,” Andy said. “I’m gonna snap this fucking bitch if it doesn’t give in a fucking minute.”

  “AGAIN, just like you in the bathroom, oh HAHAHAHAHA!” Oh God. Fits.

  Steve laughed himself stupid then.

  Andy was still yanking. “We’ll be there before you work out how to put your seatbelt on, old man,” Steve said.

  “I’ll be brain damaged too, by then!”

  Steve and I laughed afresh at this. “Aren’t you already, old man?”

  We went to the pub first, our old fav spot called

  (appropriately, for Steve)

  Cheers, drank ourselves stupid there, then went back to Steve’s place. We headed straight for our old, usual spot – lounging by the pool.

  Steve being British, he’s come over to Australia and just fallen in love with our sunshine and weather. He is always outside, drinking in the sun somewhere. He’s gone from English, pasty white skin to sunbronzed Aussie beach bum.

  Steve got out the cask wine first. Steve always, always, FUCKING ALWAYS, takes a sip of ANY drink, doesn’t matter what it is, and goes, “Hmmm, that’s good.”

  Andy and I shared a look as he did this over the boxed wine. “Hmm, that SURE IS good goon, Steve!” Andy joked.

  Then Steve got out his deadly home brew. Deadly because all it does is make you drunk and make you fart.

  It was dark now, a beautiful night. “Wow, this is the life, hey,” Steve said.

  (another of his favourite sayings)

  That’s what I love about Steve. He’s so happy with the simple pleasures in life.

  Steve farted, then looked embarrassed. “Excuse me, you two! I don’t know where that came from.” He looked over his shoulder, like someone else was to blame.

  Oh, I laughed.

  “I know where that came from,” Andy said, holding up his bottle. “It came from your fucking homebrew!” He lifted his bum off his own lounge in an exaggerated manner, scrunched his face up, and let one rip. A VERY loud one. “Oh, I feel much better now.”

  I laughed and laughed uncontrollably. I almost fell off my lounge chair, I laughed so hard. Someone farted again

  (and I’m afraid to say it was me),

  and I was gone.

  JUST GONE.

  Laughing so hard.

  “PINKY!!” Andy cried. “I’m FUCKING

  DISGUSTED – ”

  “Karina, was that you?” Steve laughed.

  “That’s just too much,” Andy added, pretending to be outraged. “I mean, it’s just FUCKING WRONG, a girl farting like that.” He pretended to sniff the air. “UGH, it’s FUCKING RANK, TOO!!”

  I was still laughing. Anything to forget the pain. Laughing sure does help. “Like you two can talk!” I tried to defend myself, all the while feeling another fart coming on.

  (what the fuck does Steve DO to this beer??? It’s a constipation tonic, that’s for sure)

  Steve chose that moment to fart again, then Andy put on a show lifting his bum cheek up again and farting, so I followed suit, too.

  We all cracked up.

  “Ahhh, this is true friendship,” I laughed.

  “Cheers to that!” Steve held up his glass.

  “Oh you cheers ANYTHING, Steve! Hey, I’m going to the fucking toilet! CHEERS!!! Oh, I’ve gotta go do a GREAT BIG SHIT! CHEERS!! Oh that cat just got run over! FUCKING CHEERS, MATE!!”

  Tears just remembering.

  Then Andy was all, “My fucking balls hurt.” He glanced over at me. “What? They fucking do! You’ve never had a lit cigarette land on your balls, hey Pinky? Your pink balls.”

  I’m off again. Can’t stop laughing.

  When I got home, the house was lit up like a Christmas tree.

  Considering how late it was, I wasn’t expecting Fred and Ethel to still be up.

  (now that I think about it, they were waiting up to see where the fuck I was and if I was gonna return home, or if I were lying in some ditch somewhere)

  Prior to leaving, I’d been alone in the house, Dan and Nat were nowhere to be seen, the house had been dark, Ever had been hurling abuse at me over the phone, and I’d been sobbing my heart out.

  I guess I’d expected to come home to a dark, evil house. Loneliness. Heartbreak. Something.

  Instead, the house was lit up, warm, Dan playing Playstation loudly¸ Nat at the dining room table, drawing

  (least it’s not knitting),

  Cleo came bouncing over to me and Gizmo meowed from her perch on the ironing board in the kitchen.

  It felt like coming home. Which was a beautiful feeling after shattering that badly earlier.

  “Finally, she graces us with her presence,” Dan said. “You know your fucking boyfriend has rung here two hundred times.”

  “Which one?” I cracked
, plonking down on the couch next to Dan. Which wasn’t even funny. Considering.

  Dan laughed though. “The new one.”

  “Where were you?” Nat asked in her mumsy way.

  “Out with Steve and Andy. Why, were you worried?? You could’ve rung my mobile.”

  “Oh, which mobile is that?” Dan asked sarcastically. “The one you left near the phone, the one that’s been ringing all fucking night?”

  Oh, dear. Matt.

  “Whoops.”

  Nat was watching me. “So…you gonna tell us what happened with Evvy?”

  So they knew. Of course they all knew.

  I shrugged. “Not much to tell. He called me names, swore lots. Reckons we were in a relationship all along, but PFFT. Seriously.” I tried not to cry again. “It’s finally over.”

  “It’s been over a long time,” Nat declared. “Since he started being a douche.”

  “So you all heard?” I asked them.

  Dan shrugged. “It’s the Scooby Gang, as you call us. We all hear everything pretty fucking quickly.”

  Oh God. I just couldn’t even care anymore.

  “We told Ever you were missing, that your car is here, your phone is here, that you’re not with Matt and no one knows where you are, and that Matt is fucking freaking,” Dan added.

  “And that he must have done a fucking number on you,” Nat contributed. “I told him he’s a fucking fucker, that when you get hurt that bad, you’re more than likely about to do something fucking stupid.” Pause. “Ever said, ‘Oh, more stupid than her usual stupid?’”

  I couldn’t help myself. My heart rose from where it was lying on the floor, bleeding, and raised its weary head. That heart of mine was almost done, yet still it raises its head in fucking hope. Hope of love. Somebody to fucking love it. “And what did he say?”