Date with Destiny

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The next morning, Myfanwy is on my doorstep with ice cream.

‘Déjà vu,’ I mutter, thinking of the aftermath of my break-up with Daniel, as she pushes past me and up to my bedroom. I thought things were bad at that point, but the bad has just piled on top of bad since.

‘Toni told me,’ Myfanwy says, flopping onto the bed, lobbing Ben Jerry’s at me. ‘Mikey is a piece of shit scumbag. He’s completely undone all the calm I felt after I went to Reiki yesterday. What are we going to do to destroy him?’

I shake my head, feeling defeated, and place the ice cream on my dresser. ‘Nothing.’

She blinks. ‘What do you mean, nothing? He tried to get you into bed, with a poor unaware girlfriend at home! He’s a pig and needs telling off.’

‘What’s the point?’ I say listlessly.

She narrows her eyes. ‘What’s the point? The point is to make sure he knows he’s hurt you.’

‘He was going to take me back to his,’ I comment distractedly. ‘Last night. We were in a taxi heading back to his flat. She must’ve been away. But how disgusting is that?’ I furrow my brow, thinking about how he must’ve carefully hidden away her things before our date. I picture him stowing away any photos of the two of them, concealing her toothbrush, hiding her shower gel. The deception itself is disgusting, but that level of effort somehow makes it worse. I can’t understand, it just doesn’t make any sense.

I try to believe people are inherently good, I really do. I have always wanted to see the best; I believe people are a product of where they’ve come from and mostly deserve pity when they mess up. Because how else do you get through the day?

Am I really this stupid? This na?ve?

I thought I knew Mikey. He knew me before Mum was on TV. We dated for, like a year, and it was good… wasn’t it?

But I thought everything with Daniel was perfect. I am an unreliable narrator of my own life. I look back at things with rose-tinted specs and with too much hope.

I try to remember my time with Mikey again now with clear eyes. My early twenties seem so long ago, so fuzzy. I was a different Ginny and yet, when I recall specific moments, I’m looking at everything with the same eyes; the same brain.

I remember laughing a lot with him. About stupid stuff and serious stuff. I remember having loads of fun. I remember going to clubs and dancing until the early hours. I remember constantly drinking and constantly eating pizzas.

But some of the bad stuff comes back now, too. There was fun, yes, but also lots of arguments, now that I think about it. He was flaky, not showing up to dates when he said he would, not texting me back, always commenting flirtily on Instagram photos of women he said were just mates. But we were all so young and immature back then, none of it seemed like red flags.

Oh god, I bet he was a cheat back then, too.

I feel like such a fool.

‘He is gross,’ Myfanwy wrinkles her nose. ‘And we have to do something. I’m too angry to figure out any option beyond murdering him in cold blood right now.’ I stay silent, feeling detached, so she continues. ‘Obviously we can’t really kill him. But could we just kidnap him for a bit? It would barely be a crime! We don’t have to tie him up or anything, just lock him in a basement or something for a week or two. A month tops.’

I smile weakly. ‘He would deserve it.’

She looks at me impatiently. ‘You’re going to at least let him have it, right? Tell him he’s a fucking louse and you hope he gets syphilis?’ Her face lights up with an idea. ‘Maybe we should contact the girlfriend on social media, or something? She deserves to know.’

I slowly shake my head, feeling far away from this conversation, from this room, from Myfanwy. ‘I can’t,’ I tell her simply.

She stands up, looking infuriated now. ‘What do you mean, you can’t, Ginny? You can’t just let him get away with this.’

‘What’s the point in confronting him?’ I say, feeling desperate. ‘He’ll just laugh at me, then saunter off into the night and do it to someone else.’

‘He might not!’ she says with frustration. ‘It could actually get through to him that he’s been a dick and that he needs to change. If he hears it enough, from enough people, he might try and work on himself. You could be the final voice that pushes him to be a better person. But even if it doesn’t have any impact, don’t you want to tell him how much he’s hurt you?’

I look at the floor, feeling too broken for this. ‘Could I not just take to my bed and eat ice cream?’ I ask, looking longingly at the tub she’s brought. I sigh, continuing, ‘I know you want me to be strong, Myfe, but what’s the point? It’s all fate, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you believe in? What’s the point in trying to be better or trying to take control when it’s all preordained? I’ve been cursed with these predictions, which are determined to ruin my life, and they have. So well done, fortune teller! It’s all fucked. Everything I’ve tried to make work, every time I’ve tried to move on has blown up in my face. I might as well accept it.’

There is a long silence between us before Myfanwy speaks at last in a quiet voice. ‘I’m getting a bit sick of this actually.’

‘Sick of what?’ I blink.

‘Sick of you blaming the predictions for everything,’ she spits. ‘One minute you’re complaining about this curse, as if it’s responsible for every life choice you’ve ever made. And then the next minute you’re saying you don’t even believe in it. So, which is it, Ginny?’ She narrows her eyes at me, waiting for a response. But I have none. She continues, looking furious, ‘You have to start taking responsibility for things. You ignored your problems with Daniel, and then pretended the break-up hadn’t even happened. Then when he saunters back into your life with barely an apology you just, like, giggle and tell him not to worry. You even let him hang out with us at Toni’s birthday and do mushrooms with us! What the fuck was that! You don’t even want to get back with him – you just can’t stand the idea of upsetting him or making him accountable for behaving badly. And now you’re letting Mikey do the same thing!’ She’s on one now, picking up the pace. ‘And the situation with your mum is the worst part! You’ve let Celeste steamroll you for years on end and then you’re upset at being flattened again! You let her control you and refuse to stand up to her. You couldn’t even tell her you think the new store is shit when it’s been your life’s work!’

‘I’ve tried—’ I begin but Myfanwy raises her voice.

‘Stop justifying it!’ she cries. ‘Do you understand how miserable and – I’ll just say it – boring it is to watch you constantly self-sabotage with your people pleasing? It’s not like you hate your job and don’t care – you love it. It’s something you really care about and you’ll still let someone destroy it rather than actually standing up and telling Celeste no.’ She is breathing hard as I stand there, in shock. I feel like I’ve been slapped. ‘I’m sick of it,’ she says again. ‘And until you start taking ownership of your own life, and fighting back instead of letting this shit beat you down, I don’t want to hear about it anymore.’

‘I’ll shut up about everything then, shall I?’ I say, trembling with anger. ‘I’ll just not mention what a catastrophe my life has turned into.’

Myfanwy is purple as she shouts her reply in my face, ‘Yes, actually! Fuck it! Just shut up going on and on about how awful things are for you if you’re not willing to do anything to make it any better! I’ve had enough of it. There’s only so much I can push you, Ginny, if you’re not willing to take any responsibility. Ever!’

For a moment we stare at each other, both breathing hard, both livid. After another second, she storms out of the room, leaving me alone, listening to the sound of her furiously stomping down the stairs, the front door slamming seconds later. I sit heavily on the bed.

That’s it then. Everything’s fucked.