Page 73 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘No, I was gay. I got beaten up most days.’
I furrow my brow. Secondary education was like that, anywhere. It was ‘eat or be eaten’, or do what I did, which was hide behind sisters so no one could touch me. Power in numbers.
‘What can I say? We moved in different circles. She’s always been pretty and willowy. Even now, we are polar opposites.’
I try to laugh that last comment off but Giles studies my face.
‘Her looks, it’s all smoke and mirrors, you know that, right?’
‘I do. I guess I’ll always use someone like Yasmin as some sort of benchmark of what my body should look like though.’
This feels like quite an open thing to say to someone I don’t know particularly well but he smiles.
‘It’s just one side of beauty we’re selling. It’s very superficial.’
‘Yeah, but those ads always show me people who look like Yasmin. I don’t exactly feel well-represented anywhere.’
He nods, almost grateful to open up that line of conversation.
‘It’s changing. It is. I am always pushing for more representation, diversity, not to sell people lies but it’s a slow-moving machine. I don’t see many gay couples represented, for example…’ he says, resentfully. ‘I am trying though.’
I smile, thankful that he at least understands that much.
‘Why do you not think you’re beautiful?’ he asks me, quite directly.
‘I’m OK…?’ I reply, my eyes shifting awkwardly.
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘A woman’s sense of their own beauty is always a little warped. Let’s say I fall in and out of love with my looks, my body.’
He pauses to reflect on my words.
‘But you have kindness. I see it in how you helped Yasmin, how you are with your baby, that man Paddy at the pub. I see something that exudes from your eyes that pictures don’t capture.’
I blush. He doesn’t know me that well but to pick up on those small things makes me realise he’s been looking at much more than my penchant for maxi dresses. ‘That’s really nice of you to say.’
‘I mean it. I like you, Beth. I like your boy. Don’t take this world to heart. It’s all veneer. All models who survive on water and celery, and competitive parents trying to milk their kids for money. There’s not much beyond the pictures.’
‘Just celery? But all that chewing?’
‘Right?’ he says, laughing.
I’m grateful in more ways than one that I got that lift. Giles’ normality and conversation were a tonic, a relief, and I liked the way he hummed along to the radio and sang along to jingles. However, as we pull into my block of flats’ communal car park, my heart quickens to see our rusty Suzuki Swift in its usual spot. I remember when we first bought it second-hand and we thought we’d taken huge steps in our relationship. It was as big a moment as when we started finishing each other’s sentences or when I first allowed him to kiss me with a mouth full of morning breath. Giles pulls up to a spot and senses my pensive look.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes. I think.’ Will emerges from the front doors. Crap. I hunch down in the seat but he clocks me immediately and walks over to the car. I undo my seatbelt and take a huge breath. Giles watches curiously. As I exit the car, I see Will’s wearing his khaki parka and a sweatshirt that I bought him for Christmas. His facial hair has grown out slightly but he carries a hoodie in his hands that I know was in the airing cupboard. I know because I used to smell it on occasion. Like some sad case.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’
Giles emerges from the other side of the car to make his introductions. ‘I’m Giles. You must be Will?’
Will’s eyes shift between us.
‘Giles was just giving us a lift home. We went on our first commercial shoot today,’ I tell him. Giles looks confused. Shouldn’t he have known that already as he’s Joe’s dad? Will hovers and Giles helps me get my stuff out of the car. Before he closes the boot, he whispers, ‘Do I need to stay?’
