Page 68 of What It's Like in Words
I looked at the mug in my hand. It was the one that I would make his tea in because he liked the size. Neon orange with black print:LOOK FORWARD NOT BACK. I told Ruth that I couldn’t remember the bad bits. She squeezed my hand. I promise that you will, she said, smiling. She had a pale pink sheen on her lips.
But what if I ended it too early, Roo?
Were you happy?
I shook my head.
No, you weren’t. You were terrified of breathing. And, Enola, let me tell you, when something is real, you can’t ruin it. Like a van Gogh.
I told Ruth that I was pretty sure that I could ruin a van Gogh, and she looked relieved that I had made a joke.
My phone vibrated on the floor. I saw the name, and my hands went to my mouth. Ruth growled. Is it him? I nudged the phonetoward her with my foot. She looked at it and then looked at me. She asked me if I was going to read it. I told her that I didn’t feel strong enough. She inhaled, held the breath for a second, and then said: Why don’t you rip off the Band-Aid and then tomorrow can be a new day? Remember, the universe doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle.
Will you read it?
If you want me to.
There was no one I wanted to hear bad news from more than Ruth, with that Scottish lilt from Catherine and Norwegian musicality from Jon. She was there the day I received the worst news of my life. We had eaten tacos while Jon took the phone call that confirmed what, in hindsight, everyone but me already knew.
I closed my eyes as she read silently. Then she told me to open my eyes. You need to read it for yourself. She put the phone in my hand. I read the email and burst into tears.
I loved the book. Can we find a time for you to come to the office and chat further? Diana
Ruth stood, held out her hand, and told me to get the hoover.
CHAPTER 22
January moved dark and quick and erased December. February was still cold, but the sun cut through. I was refilling the marshmallow jar, and Stefan was telling me about his love life: I just don’t see why that can’t happen for me. I mean, she’s sat on the plane with her dry Chardonnay, and he, like, just appears?
When my shift finished, I stepped through the glass doors and heard my name:
Enola! Oi oi!
Virinder hugged me, which felt strange, because we had always had a counter between us. His coat was the expensive wool that made your skin itch. His aftershave was strong, and, in the cold, it caught in my nostrils. I asked him why he wasn’t at work. It’s Fri-Yay! he said. I waited for the sarcasm, but it didn’t come. He told me that I looked different. Have you changed your hair?
My hair had only half grown back, currently somewhere between short and long, and too frizzy to look deliberate. My hands went to my head in apology, but he told me that it was cool. I said that no one would describe me as cool.
You’re ridiculously cool! You and your friend Ruth!
Ruthis cool. I’m just her sidekick.
He laughed and asked me what I was doing now. There was something about how unguarded he was. It wasn’t unexpected that he might be interested; he had bought me that candle and Ruth had thought that he liked me. But I hadn’t considered him like that. Hewas attractive and nice. His face was the sort that my grandma called “open.” Whyhadn’tI considered him like that?
I started to tell him that I was going home, but then a breeze curled down the street and lifted the edges of my coat and I said instead: Nothing, fancy a drink?
Now?
Now.
Before I change my mind.
He said that his friend was having drinks on the King’s Road. I don’t suppose you fancy it? I wasn’t dressed for a West London pub and I hadn’t brought any makeup, but it was a new year and I was a new person. Why not? I said. It is Fri-Yay.
THE PUB LOOKED LIKEit belonged in Lincolnshire. Deep green walls and vintage sports prints in gold frames. Virinder led us to a formation of Chesterfield sofas, where he was greeted by a man who looked like a gnome. Spilly, this is Enola, he said as Spilly kissed me on both cheeks with damp lips. Spilly said something I didn’t understand that made Virinder howl, then waved to ice buckets on a gilded table.
Virinder started to pour champagne, but I told him that I didn’t like champagne. Who doesn’t like champagne? he said, before adding that I was a cheap date. He said that he would go to the bar. What would you like instead? I told him a white wine. He asked me what kind, and I told him any kind. He seemed to find that amusing.
I sat down and a blond woman held out a manicured hand with a large diamond: I’m Jonesy’s fiancée. I told her that I was with Virinder. She glanced over her shoulder and leaned into me. He is such an angel, she said. Honestly, Ican’tbelieve that man is still single.
