Page 105 of What It's Like in Words
but that has never been your fault
I put on a new T-shirt, tuck myself into bed, and disappear.
CHAPTER 36
There is a breeze through the open window, floating the curtains. There is calamine lotion on my bedside table. Mum is at the door with a glass of water. How is the itching today, sweetheart? She places the back of her hand on my forehead and—
“IKNOCKED BUT YOUdidn’t hear me, so I used my key.” Ruth is on the edge of the bed, playing with her hands.
“Oh my god.” I plunge across the bed. “Roo!!!”
“I bought croissants.Twothis time, before you kick off.”
She is here. She is here and she still loves me.
I inhale the morning in her curls. The books on the floor have been placed back in the bookshelf.
“What are you doing here?”
“One of the girls was driving back last night, so I jumped in with her. I felt weird about yesterday and you didn’t message…”
“I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”
“Of course I did!”
“You need to know that I thought about everything and I’m so sorry.”
Ruth twirls the mood ring on her finger. The stone is a bright green. “No, don’t be. I was just scared of losing you. But if you tell me that he’s changed, then”—she tenses like a cat before it vomits—“then I’ll support you.”
“You don’t need to. It’s over, for real this time. The killer has to die twice, right? Or three times, in this case.”
She stops twirling the ring and studies my face. “Don’t say it if it’s not what you want.”
“It is. I promise.”
“Okay, well, if it happens again, just know that I’ll be here for you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Roo. It’s over.”
She tilts her head and smiles. “Laa, I know that you like to have everything tied up in a bow, but life is messy.”
“I know life is messy.”
“Yes, but you don’tlikethat it is.”
“No onelikesthat it is.”
“I do.”
“Then we’re talking about different things.”
Ruth suggests tea and leads me to the kitchen, where the light is pouring through the windows. The tulips that were left on the side have been trimmed and placed in the vase on the table. I feel something when I see them, but it’s not unpleasant; it’s more that I’m glad someone has taken care of them. Ruth gets two mugs out of the cupboard. One is the enormous Sports Direct mug. That will be hers. She will squeeze the tea bag and add a thimbleful of milk. The other is slimmer with a flower pattern. That will be mine. She will lightly dunk the bag and then pour milk until the liquid resembles pond water.
“So, how was yesterday?” I ask, leaning against the fridge, which he pressed me against last night.
She says that it was lame. “But I’m looking forward to starting properly. My presentation went well and I like the people. But if I hate it and decide to leave, then that has to be okay too.”
“It will be, if that’s what you want.”
