Page 79 of The Layover
We set up with our suitcases open on the floor. Gemma peels off her shirt to stand there in just her bra, using hand soap and splashing water over herself. I hesitate for a minute before following suit, deciding I’d rather be clean than modest – it’s notthatdifferent to being in a changing room at the gym, I reason, just with a little bit less dignity.
When Gemma flings a scoop of water up to her arm, it splashes all over me and I yelp, jumping away.
‘Oops,’ she says, not sounding very sorry at all.
I splash her back.
‘Oi!’ she shouts. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose!’
I splash her again, and she tries to run for cover before doubling back to flick some more water over me. We’re both laughing, though, and there’s a childish abandon about the whole thing that has me still grinning to myself even after we both go back to our awkward sink-washes.
We dry off with bunched-up wads of rough toilet paper. Gemma borrows my little travel-bottle of body wash, and lends me her dry shampoo and a pack of eye masks, which she applies for me.
‘It feels like a sleepover,’ I say. ‘Like we’ll do sparkly eyeshadow and silly hairstyles next.’
She smiles. ‘God, I miss a good sleepover like that. We didn’t know what we had when we were kids, huh? Now, you stay over with a friend, and it’s all about having thegoodguest towels andmaking those pretentious little baskets of travel-minis for them to use.’
I must look at her blankly, because then she adds, ‘Well. Maybe that’s a bit of a Kayleigh thing.’
‘I can’t say any of my friends do that,’ I tell her carefully, ‘but it sounds nice.’
She snorts, but says, ‘So whatareyour friends like? Are they totally Team Marcus, supporting women’s rightsandwrongs when it comes to their delulu bestie chasing an engaged man?’
I cringe. ‘Actually, they … They don’t know. Nobody does, except you and Leon.’
Gemma’s eyes bug wide. ‘Shut the front door. As if!’
‘Well I told them everything when he stayed the night and after I rejected him, and it was all so humiliating and upsetting that afterwards, I just … They’d tried to bolster me back up by saying he wasn’t worth it, and I didn’t know how to tell them. They’d have only told me the truth, and I suppose I knew I didn’t really want to hear it.’
‘Oh, Fran.’ Gemma’s face crumples in sympathy, but that only makes me feel worse –guilty, suddenly, not because of Marcus, but because of all I’ve been keeping from my nearest and dearest. They’ll forgive me, I know that, and we’ll laugh about it later down the line – but I also know it’ll hurt them to find out the whole truth.
Loving Marcus has made me selfish in a way I don’t recognise, and don’t like.
‘They’re not like your gang from school,’ I say softly to Gemma. ‘There’s six of us. We all lived together through uni and completely bonded. We’ve been there for each other’s milestone moments – new jobs, moving house, getting a dog or getting pregnant or getting engaged … We share everything with each other. We’re always there for each other.’
‘Except about Marcus.’
I nod.
‘Wasn’t that kind of a red flag? If your friends are so great, I mean, wasn’t that a sign, that they’d disapprove of this whole thing?’
‘Yes, but it’s a running joke with us how I pick rubbish boyfriends and always get my heart broken. I think I just … needed to believe this time it was different.’
Her head cocks to the side as she studies my face, her eyes soft and serious all at once. Gemma sets a gentle hand on my shoulder. ‘Do you still believe that?’
I don’t know. I wish I did, but I’ve romanticised too much of my relationship with Marcus, and coupled with him leading me on and all the little white lies I’ve told my friends and family, all the horrible truths I’ve learned tonight …
Is it too late to turn back? Or is the only way outthrough?
When I don’t answer, Gemma just gives me a small smile and squeezes my shoulder. ‘Well, if anybody’s got this, it’s you. I believe in you, babe.’
My heart swells as she turns away. Whatever Gemma believes about herself, I really don’t think she is a bad person.
I do think, maybe, it’s something she’s heard enough that it’s the part she thinks she has to play, which is such a sad thought. I watch her bend awkwardly next to the sink to wash her feet and I say, ‘You know, Leon said something to me earlier that I’m … It rang a bit true, and it’s something I think maybe you need to hear as well.’
‘Oh yeah?’ It comes out blasé but there’s tension in her shoulders.
‘He said that he wished I could see I was worth more. And … tonight, I’ve realised maybe that’s true. That I’ve been accepting the bare minimum and thinking it’s enough, and not knowing that I’m worth more – and deserve more – than that.’
