Page 55 of Knowing You
‘You’re a better fit now. That’s all that counts,’ she’d said in a scornful voice.
Now and then Bella loses patience with me; says I need to forget the old Violet and that when I don’t, I’m being ungrateful towards her after all the work she’s put into my transformation.
What if Bella decides I’m wasting her time?
I rely on her. She’s become my best friend, my cheerleader, my confidante.
We arrive at the tower block and I gaze up at the red brick work and glossy black balcony rails. Melvin’s flat is on the third floor. It’s not big but this lends the minimalist walls a cosy feel. I hand over the vodka. He kisses me on the cheek. Everyone’s pleased to see Casey and on the back of that pleased to see me. I’m passed a bowl of crisps and take a small handful. A few won’t hurt. They are all I’ve eaten since lunch.
A curvy woman sucks in her dimpled cheeks. ‘Aren’t you lucky, being able to eat what you want?’
Don’t say that.
Don’t ever think that.
If you knew how tough my regime was, you wouldn’t be envious.
Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful to Bella. I’ve gained endless knowledge about nutrition, cardio exercise, skin care and applying make-up, but over the last few months, I’ve also become aware of one thing: effortless glamour doesn’t exist. Being the best you is bloody hard. It upsets friends. It comes at a price you’re not aware of until it’s too late.
It’s also addictive.
Sometimes it feels as if the road to perfection will never end, it’ll just go on and on, passing less straight but more laidback avenues.
Casey comes back with two vodkas. He introduces me properly to Melvin, who’s a graffiti artist, and wants to make it as big as Banksy. Inheriting this flat means he can get by as a barista in his spare time. I ask to see the albums of his work. He hesitates and doesn’t want to bore me but I insist. Casey’s face softens. Apparently I’ve made Melvin’s night. He knows the crowd and half of his friends are too busy upselling their own artistic careers, whilst the others don’t consider graffiti a true art form.
The room becomes increasingly hot as more bodies arrive after last orders. The lights are dimmed. People dance. The laughter and chat get louder, fuelled by the alcohol and the white powder I see traces of in the bathroom.
We find a spot on a sofa. Casey holds my hands. ‘Wednesday, I was worried I’d scared you off, Vi.’
‘No. I… it’s just… I haven’t had that many boyfriends and—’
Casey’s laughter reminds me of Alice and her friends at primary school. He wipes his eyes. ‘Very funny. Come on, what’s the real reason? I can take it.’
I stare at the floor.
He lifts my chin. ‘Shit. You were serious?’
I force a laugh. ‘I’m just messing with you. Come on, idiot – less chat, I want to dance.’
I pull him up and lead us to the middle of the lounge where it will be far too noisy to talk. Casey tries nevertheless. I shrug off his unheard words. Maybe white lies are better than the truth.
Bodies move in unison as Michael Jackson sings about sunshine and moonlight. A woman with glossy black hair and eyebrows to match shimmies up to Casey and rubs herself up and down in the air in between them. My mouth feels parched. I need a drink. Casey’s face blurs. I mumble something about going outside just before everything turns foggy and black.
When I wake, I’m stretched out on the floor. The music has stopped and the lights are on. I’m lying on my side.
‘What happened?’ I manage.
‘You fainted.’ Casey brushes my straightened blonde hair out of my face. ‘How do you feel?’
Slowly I push myself up. The woman with black hair passes me a glass of water.
‘Do you feel dizzy?’ she asks.
I shake my head.
‘Suze is a nurse,’ says Casey, his fingers threaded through mine.
‘Try to drink as much as possible,’ she says. ‘It’s so hot in here and the alcohol will have dehydrated you. Have you eaten much today?’
