Page 19 of Great Sexpectations
‘Imogen and I had a huge row on the phone before. I’m glad to be rid of her toxic ways, but it still smarts…’
‘It’s literally just happened, it will.’
‘She’s tried to make out that nothing happened between them. I don’t know.’
A lump forms at the back of my throat to hear him so vulnerable, confused. ‘But it did,’ I utter sheepishly. ‘I saw them. I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure whether to tell you, but I did see them in that room doing the do. Not like I’m a weird voyeur, but they did do naked things together. I was there.’
He’s half-laughing, half-gasping in shock.
‘I’d just met you, I didn’t want to contribute to the drama and join the dots for you. But if there was any doubt, let me erase it for you. She’s lying.’
I don’t know how he will take that news, but at this point, it feels necessary for him to move on with all the right information.
‘Then thank you for confirming it all at least. So she’s a cheatanda liar.’
I pause. By that definition, I am also lying to him. I need to change the subject. ‘Have you eaten?’ I ask, sounding like his mother instead.
‘I will. But for now, the fumes of solitude and heartbreak are carrying me through. I’ve just filled my fifth black bag. My mate was a hoarder. He liked car magazines and chutney. The fridge is filled with about twenty different jars.’
‘My dad is similar. Apparently, it never goes off. Chutney.’ You really know how to engage a man, Josie, with your chutney talk. ‘Do you need any help?’ I ask. I don’t know why I say this. I’m in a nice dress and I’ve had quite a few drinks. I’m really not in the mood to clean someone’s fridge, but there seems to be an urge to see him again.
‘That’s sweet, but I’m good. I’m just trying to work out where to dump all this stuff.’
‘Well, bin the chutney. When I had to throw out my ex-boyfriend’s shit, I just put a lot of it in charity bins. Then at least some good can come of it.’
‘Or he can suffer the inconvenience of having to buy back his own stuff when he sees it in the RSPCA shop on the high street,’ he adds.
I chuckle, grateful he didn’t dig too much when I brought up the ex.
‘Look, I just called to say hi, Josie…’
I actually wave when he says that, at Miguel in the kitchen, who is confused and waves back. Embarrassed, I step back, attempting to negotiate the uneven concrete outside the restaurant and trip over on the wheels of a bin. ‘Crap-a-doodle-donkey.’
It’s his turn to laugh now. ‘Are you possibly drunk?’
‘Nooo. I just had to go outside because it’s pretty noisy in the restaurant and I walked into a bin and I think I have some old cabbage stuck to my heel.’ I can hear him giggling and it’s a pleasing sound. ‘But I’m also probably just a bit delirious from lack of sleep. It’s been a busy few days. You kept me up the other night.’
Not like that. Crap. I need better words. I need to not be standing here in November without a coat, by the bins, the sound of my teeth chattering like horse hooves.
‘I mean, you know what I mean, not like that. Urgh, I’m not good on the phone.’ Now he thinks I can’t speak. ‘I mean, I am but…’
He’s still laughing as I turn and notice my friends gathered in the doorway, trying to get an ear into the conversation. Go, shoo. Go feed people. Let me fail at this conversation in peace. I wish I had a ladle to throw at them.
‘I’m glad you’re OK, Cameron. Thank you for calling and checking in. It was lovely to meet you.’
This is good. It draws a line. You can get over your heartbreak, I won’t be rebound girl. I can be that nice girl you met at a party once who restored your faith in humans helping humans in times of crisis.
‘I mean, if you wanted to grab a coffee…’ he says.
‘Really?’ I reply.
‘Actually, Stantz, there is something you can do for me. Are you free next weekend? I have a thing, you can come with me?’
‘A thing?’ I whisper.
‘There’ll be other people there.’
Given my line of work, I worry he’s inviting me to an orgy.
