Chapter Twenty-Five
Nothing happens for ages, and then it does.
‘Have the walls always been this bright?’ I squint in confusion at the intensity of the surface in front of me. I give it a stroke. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t so, like, neon earlier?’ I pause. ‘Can the colour white actually be neon?’ Everyone looks blank so I add, ‘Maybe someone painted it since we arrived?’
The women all lean closer to inspect it, while Shawn, Zach, Mikey and Daniel all glance at each other, amused.
‘Is this me coming up?’ I ask anxiously and they nod.
‘It’ll be OK,’ Daniel says nicely and I study his lovely face. He’s so handsome.
‘It really will,’ adds Mikey, and now I’m looking at his lovely face. They’re both so gorgeous, I don’t know what to do with myself.
Having just stroked the wall, I resist an impulse to stroke both their faces. But I feel somehow sure that if I could touch them, I’d know which of them is my soulmate.
‘Ooh, this is weird,’ says Sonali, ‘My bottom half is an octopus.’
‘Lucky!’ Myfanwy complains. ‘So far, nothing’s really happening for me. Should I take more?’ She looks to Mikey, our resident expert, for an answer but Shawn interjects.
‘Not a good idea, babe,’ he shakes his head with authority and, even through the descending haze, I can see Myfanwy wants to laugh at his pomposity.
‘I feel all giggly,’ Toni says, nuzzling into Shawn. He smiles widely and encircles her with his arm.
‘It’s happening. I think I need to go for a walk,’ Daniel announces, standing up suddenly. ‘Ginny, is there any chance you want to come with me?’
‘Sure,’ I find myself saying, floating up to meet his hands, even though all I want to do is lie there staring at this cool neon white wall.
We wander over to the other side of the bar, where Daniel stares intently at a spot above my head. I wonder what he’s seeing.
‘This is weird,’ he mutters, now staring at his own hands.
‘But nice,’ I either say or think. I’m not really sure my mouth is still attached to the rest of my body.
‘So,’ he takes a huge deep breath. ‘Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk; I know we’re both high, but I’ve wanted to see you so badly.’ He pauses and his eyes are saucers. And then teacups. And then saucers again. ‘I want to talk to you about what happened and why and what next.’
That what next. Even floating above the conversation, I feel those two words hard. Because, even in this strange, disconnected state, I’m pretty sure what next means: are we getting back together?
I try to focus, I try to pull myself back from the weird high, and focus on the issue. I need to answer these three questions for myself:
Do I want my life to be with Daniel?
Can I forgive him for what happened?
Can I ever trust him again?
If the answer is yes to all of them, then I need to get over any remaining pride that might be holding me back and give things another shot. Because we were happy, weren’t we?
Question four: Were we really happy?
Daniel is still speaking. ‘I need you to know that I really am sorry. You have no idea how much the guilt has been eating away at me over what I did.’ He scuffs his shoes, kicking them against the floor. ‘It’s been pointed out to me over and over what a fucking twat I’ve been. Not just with the way I ended things, but the way I’ve been since.’ He pauses. ‘And the way I was before. You did everything for me, you were always so kind and conciliatory. I was selfish, everything was always on my terms. I can see now it was always about what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go.’ He swallows hard and I can see he is holding back emotion. ‘But I’m changing, or I want to change, at least. I can see what kind of man I was – am – and I want to be better.’ He takes my hand and I watch in wonder because it doesn’t look anything like my hand. I consider that expression – when you know something like the back of your hand – and realize I don’t know the back or the front of my hand at all. For that matter, which even is the front of your hand and which is the back?
Daniel’s voice breaks through my reverie. ‘I want to change, Gin, and I want…’ He trails off, trying to look at me, but I’m floating above myself.
Were we really happy? That fourth question keeps coming back to me. And now the other three don’t seem to matter that much.
Were we really happy?
I watch the two of us from high up on the ceiling. We look so odd together from up here. Daniel is still holding onto my – Ginny’s – hand and I am – she is – blank-faced and spacey.
Something in what he said a second ago is playing around the corners of my head. Everything was always on his terms. That is striking a chord.
I thought I was happy with him. I certainly told myself and everyone else we were really happy, but there’s something…
I look at myself, at Ginny, closely now, and through the layers of make-up I can see how tired she’s been. How tired she was when she was with Daniel. Tired all the time. Because it was exhausting. She was exhausted, I was exhausted.
As an introvert, I was constantly pushing myself to accommodate his extroversion. I would run around trying to match his puppy energy, fixing the things he broke, picking up after him, trying to keep him entertained and amused.
I consider the night I came back from my hen do, and all I wanted was to go to bed with an MS ready meal. Instead we drank nearly out of date Baileys and ended up in the pub.
It was constant emotional and physical labour, looking after him and the relationship. Plus, I never wanted to tell him off, or let him know what would make me happy because I was afraid he would find me boring.
Oh my god, I realize, I like being boring. All I want to do when I get home from work of an evening is lie around in my pyjamas watching mind-numbing telly and eating pasta, while I scroll through my phone and moan about people I don’t like on Instagram.
I don’t mind an evening out once a week – or y’know once a month, ideally – but Daniel wanted to do things all the time. If we had a night off, he would be bouncing off the walls, asking what we should do and messaging friends to meet up.
I was so tired all the time.
‘Gin, I want to ask you something,’ Daniel begins, his voice trembling, but I’m barely listening. I’m back in my body, which for the record, is now the shape and colour of a banana, and my stalk is leaning away from him.
I am so off my tits.
And oh god, now Zach’s coming over.
‘Have you met?’ I ask in a weird voice. Daniel looks perturbed, then sighs.
‘No,’ he says, so I take his hand, and then Zach’s hand.
‘I’m a banana, you’re both bananas,’ I tell them both warmly.
‘Right,’ Daniel sighs, running out of patience. ‘We’ll finish this later. Maybe when we’re both feeling a little less all over the place.’
I nod, knowing I need to tell him the truth. I need to explain the realisation I’ve had and what it means. Because I know now that we’re not right for each other. These mad mushrooms have given me the clarity I need and now the right thing to do is to let him down gently. I need to tell Daniel he was right to end it and that we can’t get back together. Not ever.
I mean, sure, he could’ve ended things in a better way, but I finally understand that we weren’t right for each other and we never will be. He’s not my soulmate; he’s a nice, handsome soul drain.
He wanders off towards the bar and I watch the bartender leap out of her chair, pretending she wasn’t on her phone the whole time.
Zach eyes me warily. ‘Hi Ginny,’ he says slowly, with trepidation. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m amazing actually,’ I tell him. ‘How are you feeling?’
He leans in, giving me a small smile. ‘Don’t tell anyone but I didn’t take any. I thought someone better stay sober in case anything went wrong.’ He pauses. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? Your pupils are huge.’
I nod, trying to seem sober. ‘I’m completely fine,’ I reassure him, intent on not reacting as his eyebrows turn completely white. I don’t want to alarm him, but his whole face is going white and saggy actually. Was Zach always eighty years old? I thought he was quite a bit younger. Funny how wrong you can remember things, isn’t it?
‘Do you want some water?’ he asks anxiously and I feel a rush of affection for him.
‘I’m so glad we’re friends, Zach,’ I tell him and the old man grins. He’s still quite handsome actually, for a very elderly person. I admire his wrinkles, they’re so vivid and real. I keep going, ‘Honestly, Zach, you’re the best, and I love working with you. I hope you stay at the store forever.’
The old Zach looks a bit sad at this. ‘Actually your mum’s decided that we’ll be parting ways after Christmas.’ He stares down at the floor. ‘I guess the expansion and new direction isn’t very Walliams’ Custom Designs.’
My mouth gapes open. Even through my messy haze, I feel the enormity of this.
‘You’re joking,’ I say in a whisper. ‘But… but… you’ve been so brilliant. And the clients love you! We’ve had such a surge in business because of you. This is… this is…’ I trail off before finding the words in an explosion, ‘so STUPID!’
‘Oh, hey, don’t worry,’ Old Zach shrugs. ‘It’s OK, it’s not the end of the world. It’s been great for my CV, and my business account’s gained five thousand new followers on Instagram thanks to your mum sharing my stories! I’m grateful really.’
God he’s nice. This is so… nice. Celeste has screwed him over and he’s still looking on the bright side.
‘And,’ he grins, ‘I got to meet you. I hope we’ll be able to keep hanging out? Now we won’t be work colleagues anymore, we don’t have to be so professional.’
This hits me hard. Is that why he’s been keeping his distance? Because we worked together? I was so sure there was more between us and – oh god – the words are coming, the vomit overflows: ‘Is that why you didn’t want to kiss me?’ I say in a rush, as the real Ginny inside me somewhere screams at me to stop. ‘At Diane’s funeral? Is that why you said you only wanted to be friends?’
He swallows, looking at the floor. ‘No,’ he says slowly. ‘Um, there’s a… this isn’t really the time to talk. But there’s… I…’ He gulps again. ‘Look, I do really like you, Gin, but I’m not looking for anything like that with you. It’s not… I just… I don’t think of you in that way but I’m really glad we can be pals.’ He looks nervous and then adds, ‘Sorry.’
Why are men always saying sorry to me? They’re always discarding me and then saying sorry, like it makes up for everything. Why can’t they try just not behaving badly in the first place and see how that goes? Why don’t we – as a human race – just try being nice to each other and then we wouldn’t have to keep saying sorry.
I realize I have solved all of humanity’s worst problems and I spin around, looking for Myfanwy. She’s the best person to tell that I’ve solved the world; she can implement my plan. She’s always so organized and good at solving crises. Where is she? I keep turning, looking and looking.
Wait, what was my plan again?
The old man has his hands on my shoulders now. Have they been there the whole time? They feel warm and nice. What a warm and nice old man.
‘You’re warm and nice,’ I tell him and he peers at me closely.
‘Sorry,’ he says again. ‘But you were spinning round and round in circles, shouting “dizzy dinosaurs” and I was worried you were going to fall over.’
Was I? It sounds like a lot of fun; maybe I should do it again.
We are interrupted by a shouting person.
‘HIYA!’ It’s Mikey! I remember Mikey, he’s lovely. Much nicer than the other two men here who keep pretending to like me then rejecting me. Mikey is the only good one.
In fact, I think he must be my soulmate. I don’t need to find the fortune teller after all. I need to tell Myfanwy this as well.
‘I need to find my best friend,’ I say loudly and Mikey jumps in the air.
‘Oh my god, you can talk,’ he says with amazement.
‘Of course I can talk,’ I declare, outraged. But doubt creeps in. Maybe this is the first time I’ve ever talked?
‘You sound just like Ginny,’ Mikey says now, moving closer and stroking my face. ‘But you look like a beautiful unicorn.’
‘I am a beautiful unicorn,’ I say proudly, knowing for sure that I am. ‘I like being a unicorn.’
‘Just wait here, you two,’ I instruct the old man and Mikey, remembering now that I need Myfanwy. ‘Just wait, I need to gallop over to my friend.’
I leave them both and trot around the room, braying and neighing as I go. I find Toni, sitting with Myfanwy and Sonali still on the sofas in the corner. It feels like years since I left them and I’ve learned so much about myself in that time. I’ve learned that I love Daniel but I’m not in love with him anymore. I’ve learned that we don’t belong together. I’ve learned that Zach definitely isn’t interested and he’s sorry – and also that’s he eighty or ninety years old. I’ve learned that human beings can be fixed, if we all just decide to be nice. And most importantly, I’ve learned that I am a unicorn, and isn’t that just wonderful?
Myfanwy and Sonali are serene and peaceful, staring up at the ceiling with their hands intertwined. There is classical music playing on a phone between them. I slump down beside them and Toni. Toni snuggles into my side.
‘Can I tell you something, Gin?’ Her lovely voice floats through me. ‘I think I might be asexual.’ I try to focus because this feels important. ‘I’ve never really felt… attraction.’
‘To Shawn?’ I ask, turning to wrap my arm around her.
‘To anyone,’ she blinks. I search for the right words to reassure her; to let her know it’s all OK because we’re all unicorns, and unicorns are wonderful and precious.
‘I—’ She is asleep. I stroke her lovely face. ‘Love you Toni,’ I whisper, hoping I can always be a good big sister to her when she needs me. I close my eyes for a few minutes, letting the feelings and music wash over me. It’s lovely. Then I remember.
‘Myfanwy, I needed to tell you something,’ I say and am amazed again that I can talk. I must be an extra magical unicorn. ‘I solved everything! These mushrooms are incredible, I get everything now, I know what the fortune teller wanted me to do. I know who my soulmate definitely isn’t. I get it.’ Myfanwy looks baffled by my words but I know I am making sense. I know it. ‘This is big stuff,’ I tell her with urgency. ‘I’ve spent six months feeling confused and scared, but I don’t anymore. I know who I am and I can be brave. I know how to fix my life!’ I feel my eyes widen as it hits me. I understand the rest of it suddenly, too. I take a deep breath, gripping Myfanwy by the shoulders. ‘Oh my god, Myfe, I get it now. I get it. The prediction! The honeymoon wasn’t it – it’s tonight.’ She blinks with confusion. ‘TONIGHT,’ I shout in her face. ‘This is my life-changing trip!’