Page 30 of What It's Like in Words
You know, we could always come back here next year. Go camping?
He gave me a withering look and reminded me that he wasn’t keen on the whole safari thing.Although,he added, I have always wanted to see a zebra.
And that was all I needed to hear. It wasn’t enough now just to be his girlfriend. I wanted more. I wanted the house in Stoke Newington. I wanted the matching publishing deals and our cover art framed side by side on walls that we painted ourselves. I wanted the hen do where I joked about his favorite sexual position in front of his elderly relatives. I wanted everything. He wasn’t saying it in words, but he was saying it in something like them: he wanted that too.
What about a flebra? I asked.
There was a pregnant pause, and then, monotone, he said: Enola, would that be a cross between a flamingo and a zebra by any chance?
I stifled a giggle. Why, yes. What’s the problem?
He took a sip of his drink. No problem, he said calmly. I just thought they were called zamingos.
No, that’s an Italian in Clapham.
He gave in and laughed first—a symphony of water gurgling from a tap. Our happiness was such a giddy drunk that I almost forgot what was happening tomorrow.
DAY 5
I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t come all this way, ask her recommendations for restaurants, live in her friend’s house, without meeting Louise for coffee. I wasn’t sure what to wear. The last dress she had seen me in was a black one. There was only one outfit that I hadn’t worn yet: a vintage sage slip that Ruth made me buy. He would like me in it. He would rub my hip bones, and I would feel delicate and lovable.
I came outside, and he was by the pool having a smoke. He didn’t notice my dress. Don’t, he said, referring to his cigarette. He waslooking at me as if I was the one who asked him to quit, and it felt like I had inherited one of his ex-girlfriend’s arguments. I told him that I wasn’t going to say anything, and he asked me why I was moody. I told him that we needed to leave in twenty (a statement that answered his question but that he thought was a subject change). He stubbed out his cigarette in his coffee mug and asked where we were going.
Aunt Louise. Remember?
And you want me to go to that?
I just assumed you were?
I can if you want, he said, not even trying to match his face to his words. He was already in his trunks. I told him not to worry, but between that, the cigarette comment, and the fact that he hadn’t noticed my dress, I was annoyed.
He sighed. What? Why do you look like that?
I just… I really don’t want to go.
Look, he said. I think you’re making too much of this. Just get it over with, thank her for the great house, and come back. I told him that it wasn’t that simple. I hadn’t seen Louise since I was a child, and my mum didn’t know that we were here. He looked at me like I was being dramatic. Who cares if your mum and your aunt don’t get on? I feel like you might be making a bigger deal out of this. It’s just lunch. You’ll be fine.
You don’t want to come with me?
Not really.
He lit another cigarette.
Just like that?
Enola, be reasonable. I don’t really see the point in meeting some random aunt that I’ll never see again and that you have described more than once as mad.
No, it’s my mum that describes her as mad, which probably means she’s lovely.
I was disappointed, because I wanted him next to me. I wanted to feel his hand on my knee under the table and to see his eyes smiling.But he wasn’t “that kind of boyfriend,” as he pointed out when I asked for a photo in the golden hour and he went into a tirade about social media. Perhaps it was for the best. I didn’t know what Louise was going to bring up.
Fine, I said, more upset about the memory of the sunset photo.
This is my holiday too, Enola, he said, sharp.
Shit. I moved to him and told him that I was sorry. I pressed my face into his tank top; it was the same one he slept in and it smelled like our bed. He rested his arms on my shoulders and exhaled cigarette smoke over my head. He told me to just get it over with. And don’t stress, honey. We only have a couple days left. I really want us to have fun, yeah? I smiled and told him that I wanted that too, and his hands moved down to my hip bones.
Honey, he said. You’ve lost weight.
