Page 79 of What It's Like in Words
I wanted to punch a hole in the wall. I wanted to rip my hair out. I wanted to run as fast as possible. I wanted to scream.
Look, Roo… I—
Fine, Enola. Just go.
What will you do?
Meet Sasha and Olivia, I guess.
Remembering they were in Soho, I felt better. Ruth would behappier with them. But her face was fixed in an expression normally reserved for Emily. Just text me when you get home this time, Enola. I moved one step down to say goodbye, but she turned and went back to the booth.
IWALKED HOME ANDstopped on London Bridge. Tower Bridge was green and glowing ahead, and the moon was bright. I could feel my skin turning pink in the cold. Virinder messaged asking what time I would be over. I lied that I was staying at Ruth’s.
But I’ve put fresh sheets on the bed and bought stuff for breakfast?
Why was that my problem? I hadn’t asked him to do that.
I’m sorry. I’ll come over in the week. Is that okay?
He was “typing” for ages, so I sent another message saying that my battery was dying and put my phone on silent. I rested on the stone wall and stared into the black. Dad told me that drowning was the most peaceful way to die. The Thames looked calm but the undercurrent was dangerous. I lifted onto my toes and leaned over. I couldn’t see the water, just flickers as light caught movement. It would be so easy to—
Hi, I’m so sorry but could you maybe take our picture? Our selfie stick has broken!
I turned to find a European couple, both tall and blond with shiny puffer jackets. She handed me a phone in a glittery case. He kissed her cheek. She made a peace sign. They pretended to laugh. I passed the phone back and twenty-five minutes later I was home.
Opening the door, the smell was familiar and comforting. I put on myMario KartT-shirt that was still under my pillow; then I held Otter and cried until I was breathless.
CHAPTER 27
I am in the garden in Nairobi, and he is here. His voice shares a frequency with the low breeze in the grass. The table is set for Christmas, and music is playing. The warmth of the sun. The sound of the ocean. But we are six hours from the coast? Six hours against the sun-soaked window. Anthills appear all around. Vultures circle. I hear the crescendo of the train and—
SHH.IT WAS JUSTa nightmare, baby girl. Virinder pressed my face against his chest and hushed me like I was resisting him. He nodded to the painkillers on the bedside table. Did you take these again, Enola? He said my name like I was an idiot. I told him they were painkillers, not crack. He said that I didn’t need them. I reminded him thathetook medication. He said that anxiety medicine was not the same as misusing painkillers.
You just need to relax, babe. You’ve been all over the place.
He was right. I hadn’t been myself since karaoke. And it wasn’t helping that my book was now finished and on submission to publishers. There was space to fill in my mind, and what was filling it wore a ripped denim jacket.
Virinder told me to close my eyes and go to a happy place, and so I went back to Kenya. I walked through the beach house until I sawhimby the gate with the moon behind him. He opened his mouth to tell me that he loved me, but before he could say the words, Virinder interrupted, treacly-voiced: Where did you go, baby girl?
Lisbon with Ruth.
Maybe we could go away together? I have some holiday I’ve not used and—
Can we not talk right now?
Of course, he said. But he didn’t mean it. He was insecure. I wasmakinghim insecure. He started to stroke my hair, lightly, like he was more focused on the appearance of the action than the purpose. But then his hands moved down my body, between my legs.
What are you doing?
He said that he wanted to help me relax. He was so good with his fingers that I didn’t tell him to stop. Tell me if I’m going too fast? I nodded, breath thickening. I reached back, but he told me not to worry about him. I just wantyouto feel good.
Afterward, Virinder fell asleep, and I put on his dressing gown and walked up the spiral stairs to the terrace. The night sky was cloudless, and you could see the stars.There is the one that looks like a cock. And over there is the other one that looks like a cock. And finally, there’s one more that looks like—you guessed it—a cock.I did something I never let myself do: checked his social media.
Because I’d deleted his profile, the only information available was old, so I searched for Steph instead. Careful not to send an accidental request, I scanned her timeline for clues of his new girlfriend, but Steph only had a few photos visible: one with him, one with Patrick, always laughing, always drunk. I opened our archived message chain. His picture was a selfie that he took on the beach in Watamu. I used to think it meant something that he had kept it but the reality was that he just liked the way he looked. Just then, his status changed to “online.”Fuck.Could he see me? No, of course he couldn’t see me. But I could see him. I watched the word like I was watching him from the shadows outside his house. I pictured him picturing me, each of us waiting for the other to move. Perhaps his new girlfriend was asleep next to him just as Virinder was asleep downstairs. Perhaps she understood him. Perhaps she made him happy. I scraped my thumb against the brick wall.
Back in bed, my skin tingled next to Virinder’s warmth. I took another painkiller and hoped, as I had for a while now, to feel differently in the morning.
IN THE MORNING,THEclouds moved like water in the skylight. Virinder was stood at the door in his brown suit, and I was perched on the arm of the sofa in myMario KartT-shirt.
