Page 119 of (Not) The One
Except I’m not sorry at all. Not really. This was an intervention!
Maybe if I keep saying so, I’ll believe it at some point.
Fuck, her stoic tears feel like they’re tearing something inside of me.
‘I’m sure something else will come along,’ I murmur softly, rubbing equally soft circles on her back.
‘Will it though? I’ve never been sacked before. They won’t give me a reference, and it’s not like I can go and work in a pub or a restaurant because I’ll be as big as a house in a couple of months.’ Too bloody right she’s not working in a bar or serving plates of ceviche in a bistro somewhere. Big or not, the point is moot. ‘Pet sitting was easy,’ she adds with a sniffle. ‘Inconvenient, yes.’I second that. Bloody inconvenient. ‘But relatively stress free. Where else am I going to get paid to cuddle up on the sofa with you?’
‘I can always get that goldfish.’
She smiles sadly and I have to remind myself I’m doing this for us both—for the three of us. What started in the bedroom, or the dog door more likely, has bled through both our walls. But her walls have always been a little taller than mine, a little tougher to break through.
My actions are kind of like bringing in a demolition crew.
Her face is cold. Thanks to the evening chill, but her lips are warm as I press my mouth to hers.
‘It’ll all work out.’ I promise.
She pulls back, rubbing the back of her hand under her nose. ‘How am I ever going to be able to afford to move out now?’ All will be revealed in good time. ‘Seriously, I thought I was going to start hyperventilating when the estate agent called and started reeling off the prices of what he has available. Olivia has already given me half of the fee we agreed on. I won’t get the rest until after next week.’
‘Ah, the big day looms.’ Maybe she’ll let me take her as my date. Or maybe the pack of bacon I have in the fridge will sprout wings and take to the air before then. ‘Let’s go and eat. You’ll feel better with a full stomach. Bad choice of words?’
‘You might say that. Anyway,’ she adds dismissively, ‘I couldn’t think about eating right now.’ With a groan, she falls forward, pressing her head to my chest again. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your dinner.’
‘I’m not eating alone. But I might have just the thing to cheer you up.’
She pulls back, taking my face in her hands. The whites of her eyes are a little red, and the skin underneath looks almost bruised. But she’s smiling, at least, even if it is a tiny wry looking thing. ‘I’m sorry to say I’m not in the mood for penis.’
‘It was worth a try.’ Her shoulder shake with an almost silent chuckle. ‘And while penis is always good for a little mood lift, I actually had something else in mind.’
Before she has a chance to ask, I’m up from the sofa and pulling the brochure from the mantlepiece, something I’d printed off from the real estate agents website this afternoon. I also pick up a small early Sarah Lucas sculpture from a side table as I make my way back to sit next to her once more. Miranda gaze is circumspect as I slide the brochure out of sight for now to the cushion behind me.
‘I’ve never been sure if this is what I think it is.’ She trails a finger along the bronzed length of the sculpture.
‘What do you think it is?’
‘Well, it looks like a penis, but it seems to have boobs.’
‘It is quite an androgynous piece,’ I agree lifting the piece between us as though examining it myself. ‘I always thought there was something a little Matisse about the composition.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘You don’t need to. Most people are only interested in what it’s worth.’ The art of art is dead? I wouldn’t say so, but most buyers are only interested in art for investment purposes. ‘But for the purpose of this exercise, this is just a talking piece, or talking stick if you like.’
‘Okay.’ Her reply is a little wary. ‘I am pleased it can’t talk. I’d be a little frightened about what it might say.’
‘I’m sure whatever it would say, it couldn’t be as bad as what the nanny cam repeated, especially if it was repeating me.’
A ripple of amusement crosses her face.
‘Thankfully, the camera was in the rabbit’s room, not anywhere else.’ Yes, the rabbits had their own room. ‘But I must admit that was my first concern. I’d hate to think we had an inadvertent sex tape floating around the internet.’
‘Yes, that kind of thing is much more dangerous than porn watched on a flat screen mirror.’ At the mention of this, she drops her head, her hair shielding her face like a pair of drapes. ‘I can’t believe you’d bring that back up at a time like this,’ she mumbles.
‘Bring it up? It’s practically the first thing I think of when I open my eyes in the morning. And let me tell you, it certainly bringsme upin record time.’
‘Oh, the innuendo,’ she protests, red cheeked as her head comes up again as she treats me to a gimlet stare. ‘Such filth and lies; I know for a fact you don’t need any encouragement in the morning.’
