Page 77 of What It's Like in Words
I’ll tell you what, he said. I’ll draw you a bath. Are you at the café tomorrow?
From two.
So, if you get up at seven, you’ll have six hours.
He made it sound like a compromise, and even though it wasn’t, it was hard to say no to him. He put meditation music on and drew me a bath. He added bath oil, and in the notes of citrus I saw my mum with a glass of wine as the sun descended lazily over the vineyard.Get in the bath, Enola. He’s a lawyer.I smuggled in my laptop and put it on the toilet seat. After thirty minutes, and a character moved from chapter five to chapter two, Virinder called dinner, and Ijumped in and out of the bath. That’s better, he said. You look much more relaxed!
VIRINDER KISSED ME ONthe forehead, and I pretended to be asleep. When the door locked, I got out of bed. He had set up the French press next to my favorite mug (the only one he owned that wasn’t white, a bumblebee-patterned one from Anthropologie that his mother bought him). There was a note on the desk that read:
Happy writing, love V xxx
I felt guilty for being annoyed with him yesterday. He had been feeling anxious, and yet what he chose to do with that feeling was to try to look after me. And hedidlook after me. Virinder had been a big part in helping me finish the book. His perfectly painted walls were a serene palette of eggshell, and it was like writing in a museum café. Here with him, I wrote like writing was work and not compulsion. I still changed the font obsessively, but I did it for a logical reason, to help me see the mistakes. The chaos over, now was my favorite part: order.
I made coffee and then edited for two hours until a message from Ruth snapped me out of my trance.
Hey, not seen you in ages! Wanna go dancing? Trump might be president of the world soon so we should dance while we still have joy in our hearts.
I replied that I still needed to write, and so she suggested next weekend. Chris from the writing group was having a birthday karaoke thing, and I asked if she wanted to come. She said yes and proposed dinner first.
Perfect. Can’t wait. x
I closed my laptop and went for a shower. Maybe it was having a plan with Ruth to look forward to, or the fact that my book was nearly finished, but, under the water, I felt excited about my life. I fantasized about winning a literary award wearing that green silk dress fromAtonement. I picked up Virinder’s pepper-scented shower gel and held it like an Oscar.
Thank you so much, everyone! I couldn’t have done it without you. Especially my girls!
Women,Ruth corrected me,we are women, not girls!
Virinder was in the front row in a designer suit, looking happy and proud, but then I noticed a tall figure at the back of the room. Denim jacket with a rip in the shoulder. Eyes burning with regret.
I detached the shower head and lowered it between my legs.
He dragged me to the toilets, wild and wolflike, and pushed me against the wall. He bit my neck and fucked me.Is this what you want? Is this what you want, you cunt?
I came hard but quick, so once the sensation faded it was like it had never happened. I replaced the shower head and picked back up my award.
I’d like to thank my best friend… I’d like to thank my agent… I’d like to thank my dad…
WHENITURNED THEcorner into the courtyard, Ruth was on the swinging seat by the vegetable patch with a bottle of prosecco. She stood when she saw me.You finished the book!We hugged each other hard; I couldn’t go this long without seeing her again.
Sasha made a stew, and we sat on the floor around the conjoined crates used as a table, tearing bread and drinking red wine. Sasha’s friend Olivia, a petite girl with a mullet, was telling us about her friend who was becoming one ofthosebrides. She doesn’t get that not everybody is comfortable upholding archaic patriarchal structures, she said. Nodding in agreement, Ruth said that her sister had had a traditional wedding. I reminded Ruth that she had cried at Emily’swedding and she stuck out her tongue, purple from the wine. Olivia asked me if I wanted to get married, and I answered that I didn’t know. That meansyes,Olivia said, putting her bowl down. Society won’t change unless we change it. Ruth said that society wouldn’t matter if the world ended. I told Ruth that she couldn’t invent an apocalypse to avoid commitment. She replied that I couldn’t deny an apocalypse because I was excited about my career. Olivia huffed: Climate change is real, Enola.
I know that climate change is real, Olivia, I thought. And then:Fuck it.
I know that climate change is real,Olivia.
Ruth stifled a giggle.
Sasha contributed sagely: People will be extinguished but the planet will continue. Ruth said that Sasha might get lucky, and the planet might save the vegans. Sasha threw a napkin at her. Olivia said that Brexit was step one in our extinction. Sasha asked what step two was. I suggested Bowie, and everyone laughed apart from Olivia. Ruth gestured to ask whether it was okay for her to finish the bread. We nodded, and so she took the crust. I passed her my bowl to scrape. Well, Sasha said, whatever the order, we can all agree that Trump is stage three. I said that I didn’t think Trump would win.
Olivia spoke to me but looked, smiling, at Sasha. So, you think that people don’t hate women, Enola?
I think he’ll be assassinated before we find out.
What, like shot in the chest at a Republican convention?
Or between the toes with a needle.
Everyone laughed again apart from Olivia, who said that I watched too much American television and not enough of the news. Ruth picked up her phone and started scrolling. Ah, she said. Bowie died first. Bowie died and then it all went to shit. Did anyone think to check betweenhistoes?
