Page 14 of Last Night

I feel a similar rush of revolutionary fervour coming on at this rejection by Zack.

‘… And what’s women’s hair, dirty?’

‘Yeah, I mean, it’s hygiene, I guess. Also the look.’

‘How mental is it to say you don’t like the way women naturally look?’

‘Look, I get why you’re disappointed, now you’re turned on and all,’ Zack says. ‘If you’re that upset I could … I dunno. Play with your boobs or something.’

Oh, God. As the horror of this deepens, so its anecdotal value sharply increases, like two different coloured lines on a chart diverging.

‘I’m not disappointed, I’m not turned on, and I really don’t want pity boob play. I only think it’s grim to want women to look pre-pubescent.’

‘Loads of girls my age have Hollywoods,’ Zack says. ‘It’s a thing. It’s different for you guys, I guess?’

Gotcha.

‘Which “guys” are those?’

Zack’s eyes flick from side to side as I can see he knows he messed up, saying that, and doesn’t want to irritate me further. The angry cavewoman stepmom on the premises. ‘People your age?’

‘What age is that?’

‘I don’t know! Thirty? I knew you weren’t my age ’cos your friend had a Credit Suisse Gold card. No need to go crazy bitch on me, OK?’

I laugh, and sigh. Bloody Susie and her affluence.

I came here tonight to proudly assert the fact I could do meaningless wild banging with a near-stranger.

In this dank flat, looking at someone who’s seen too much porn, a callow lad who looks damp to the touch, I fully face into the futility. I was trying to diminish the pain of not having who I wanted, by having disappointing intercourse with someone’s immature younger brother.

Oh, Eve. All this, staked on that moment in a few weeks’ time when Susie raucous-drunk, says:we can’t go back to that bar, can we, Evelyn?and I involuntarily lock eyes with Ed as he involuntarily locks eyes with me, and I see something like pain or conflict. As if those moments are going to add up to something.

Fact check: Ed’s getting married, and you could’ve gone home, cried into a cushion and allowed yourself to feel despair.

The things we do to avoid difficult things are often worse than the difficult thing.

‘I’m not going crazy, I’m just going. I hope Linda sits on you. It’s more contact with a woman than you deserve though,’ I say, with a smile.

I grab my bag, swoop up my coat and gallop back down the stairs.Well, Susie,I think, as I pick my way through the uninhabited chairs and tables,Tuskstill trickling out from hidden speakers.You’re going to love this.I know she’s going to say I’ve got one that looks like I’m riding Gnasher from theBeanointo battle.

‘Eva!’ Zack says, appearing in the rectangle of light in the opening of the stairway, as I turn the key and yank the bar door open. ‘Can you pay for your drink, please?’

I whip back round.

‘You can’t be serious?’

Zack looks genuinely bewildered that I’m objecting.

‘Yeah. It’s five pounds?’ He steps forward, picks up a menu on the bar and flaps it at me, by way of proof.

In shock, and because I’ve never skipped a bill in my life, I rummage in my purse for a note.

It’s such a dispiriting moment of defeat to end on that as I slap it down, I say, to make it clear I’m not the one who should be embarrassed here:

‘By the way, why didn’t you check I was alright with bald balls?’

‘What?’

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