Page 47 of How We Began

Ben’s back… and I can’t walk.

Tomorrow will be easier.

3rd January

Tomorrow is not easier at all. It’s worse.

I’ve done it, though, getting a thumbs-up from James as he swanned past me while I heaved away on the bike machine thing. He stopped to have a laugh with some super fit woman who managed to make jogging look like fun.

I will be thin.

I will be healthy.

It will all be worth it.

Last night Ben looked at me like I was deranged as he tucked into his pizza and I had my salad dressed only with Balsamic Vinegar and a squeeze of lemon. This morning I bumped into him at breakfast. He only raised his eyebrows at my muesli, whereas I wanted to wrestle his slice of Marmite toast out of his mouth. I resisted.

The key is in repeatedly chanting my mantra to myself:

I will be thin.

I will be healthy.

It will all be worth it.

Not one drop of alcohol has passed my lips in 8 days. It’s a miracle.

(8 p.m.)

One essay is completed. I’ve got three more to do. I’m incredibly proud that I have finished my first essay. On the downside, it makes no sense at all, even to me, and I wrote it. Still, it’s done and printed out, and that is good enough for me.

I texted Meredith earlier to see when she was coming back. She’s been at home convincing her mum and dad to forgive her for ditching them on Christmas Day. Oh, and for having a twenty-six-year-old boyfriend. They weren’t best pleased. There’s a rational part of my brain that kind of understands. Tristan’s been on the charm offensive attempting to win them over. No word yet on whether he’s winning.

It’s a bit weird. Ben and I are here by ourselves, kind of just milling about. We sat and did some study together this afternoon, after I had recovered from my gym torture session. He even cooked dinner: grilled chicken and a salad. Bless him.

So here we are just rumbling along, not touching or being overly familiar. And definitely not talking about Christmas night when we had the best sex ever: slow, sweet, and perfect.

I can’t think about that now. I’ve a very important essay about something or other to compose.

4th January

I woke this morning covered in sweat from the craziest nightmare ever.

I was being chased by a cross-training machine. It was pounding after me down Putney High Street as I tried to escape while shoving a King Size Snickers in my mouth. The doors to all the pubs were opening and shutting, wafting the smell of smoke and wine at me. They all had Taylor Swift blaring “Should’ve Said No,” as I ran past them.

Down on the bridge, the super fit woman from the gym was doing something indescribable to Ben. She was only wearing black underwear. I tried to get to him… to save him, but it took me ages to cross the busy road jammed with countless Number 14 buses blocking my path. When I got across, I saw that he wasn’t trying to get away from her…

Oh, God!

It’s 6.30 and I’m never going to get back to sleep now. I may as well go to the gym. I think I’ll jog today instead of taking Deathtrap Cooper.

(Later)

It might’ve taken all day, but the second essay is done. Completed under duress this time. I jogged back from the gym and then made the huge mistake of thinking I could cook something. I made a vegetable stir-fry for lunch. I don’t know why I thought I could do this.

It’s given me the shits.

In fact, the world has fallen out of my arse.