Page 26 of Filter This
‘Ali, what the fuck?’ Liv was breathless, brandishing her phone.
‘Hey—’ Ali began, momentarily wondering if she could maybe just let Liv believe the story too, before Liv cut her off with a mocking dramatic reading of the typo-filled post Drunk Ali’d written.
‘“So excited to officially announce mypegnancy”,’ Liv read in a scathing voice.
OK, clearly trying to fluff it with Liv wouldn’t be an option, thought Ali.
‘Blah blah blah hashtag blessed,’ finished Liv, glaring viciously at her. ‘This is the most fucked thing you’ve ever done.’ She tossed the phone on the bed and crossed her arms. Ali felt a spike of fear at Liv’s face. Her jaw was set, her expression stony and Ali instantly felt her buzz evaporate. ‘This isn’t just fake breakfasts and bullshit posts about mindfulness, Ali.’
‘Look, it’s not that big a deal,’ began Ali, bracing herself for Liv’s onslaughts. Liv rarely got angry, which of course gave her anger, when it did occur, a frankly terrifying weight. ‘I mean, it is a big deal. I know, I know. I just mean that I didn’t intend it to happen.’
Ali launched herself out of bed and straight into damage control, invoking everything from how humiliating it was being up on stage to how hard it was with Miles being so sick. Ali could feel Liv’s fierce rage wilting, even though her eyes narrowed slightly when Ali mentioned Miles. Ali continued to grab at anything within reach to make Liv understand.
‘Before I knew it, it had just taken off and I didn’t know how to go back on it – it’d be too humiliating to own up to it now.’ Liv sat on the end of the bed looking at the floor while Ali delivered her pleading statement, pacing in front of her. ‘It just feels so good, all these people saying nice things and having something to look forward to.’ At this Liv’s head snapped up and Ali instantly wished she could call those last words back.
‘There’s nothing to “look forward to”, Ali.’ Liv shook her head in disbelief. ‘Are you becoming delusional right now? Do I need to have you sectioned?’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ Ali had not been prepared for this conversation. She needed to buy time before trying to get Liv onside. ‘Look, it’s happened now.’ She tried for a soothing, more reasonable tone, something that made her sound like a person in control. ‘I’m just going to let it play out for a couple of months, just until the awards are over. Then things’ll die down, and people will forget.’
‘Ali—’ Liv was interrupted by Ali’s phone buzzing among the bed sheets.
Saved by Tinder Sam. She’d better answer him. ‘I have to get this,’ Ali told Liv, turning slightly to shield the conversation from her.
‘Ali, you’re freaking me out – why didn’t you answer my calls?’ Tinder Sam sounded like a man on the edge.
‘Hey, yeah, I know, it’s been mad – but don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything. We’ll sort it all out. Let’s just talk on Monday
– I’m in the middle of something. No more calling now, and I’ll see you at Grogan’s at six on Monday. OK?’
‘OK, it’s just … I mean … how are you, like—?’
‘OK, byeee.’ Ali cut him off before he could ask any more questions. Ones that would be considerably harder to answer.
‘Who was that?’
‘Ehm, it was just,’ Ali stooped to check her face in the mirror and tried to sound casual, ‘Tinder Sam.’
‘Tinder Sam?’ Liv looked bewildered, then obviously a little internal arithmetic meant the penny dropped. ‘Stop. He thinks this has something to do with him?’
‘Well …’ Ali bustled about the room avoiding Liv’s eyes and starting to get dressed for work.
‘Ali!’
‘I’m going to meet him on Monday and we’ll talk everything out.’ Ali was keeping it deliberately vague – she didn’t even know what she was going to say to him yet.
‘Do I need to remind you of a little something called the Tan Ram?’ Liv was starting to look amused in spite of herself.
Ali groaned. ‘Stop, I’m trying not to think about it.’
It had been the perfect date until things got messy – in the most literal, visceral sense. All had been going well. Dinner chat had been nice. Tinder Sam appeared to be some kind of office man – Ali had checked out of the conversation for a few key moments, mentally wording the Insta-post she was going to sneak off to the bathroom to upload, and missed the whole job explanation. He had a nice smile and a good sense of humour. By the time the second pitcher had been ordered, Ali was set on hooking up.
They’d headed back to Tinder Sam’s place in Rathmines, even doing a little light hand-holding as they strolled down the canal. Ali took a few surreptitious shots for the ’gram and was pleasantly buzzed from the booze and the promise of what was to come. Other loved-up couples were meandering along the path and Ali was struck by how they too must look like that. Young. Happy. Normal. These were not things Ali associated with herself, and it felt more like she was trying it on for size than really living it. Tinder Sam was asking her about her family.
‘Let’s take a selfie!’ she interrupted brightly – she didn’t want to kill the mood with any information that might lead him to the dreaded Sympathetic Head Tilt.
He laughed and bent his head towards hers for the picture. At the last moment, he turned his head and went in for the kiss. The move was definitely a bit lurching and awkward but Ali had to hand it to him – top marks for catching her off-guard. And mega marks for delivering what was practically a white whale in the Insta-world: a kissing selfie that didn’t look totally staged and cringe.
The flat was in the basement of a fairly manky Georgian house. Guys’ flats always let them down, she’d observed, following Tinder Sam through a dark, narrow hall and into a dingy front room. There was always aReservoir Dogsposter or some naff Bob Marley pic and an underlying smell of Bovril. Not that her own bedroom was much better. She rounded the doorframe and came face to face with a tie-dyed purple marijuana-leaf wall-hanging with Bob’s face emblazoned in the centre. On the far wall hung a framed (framed?) picture of Al Pacino. Bingo, thought Ali.
