AUDREY
T HE DISTANCE BETWEEN E ZRA ’ S APARTMENT AND MINE FEELS SO much further this morning. I walk quickly with my jacket pulled tight around me, head throbbing, stomach crying out for something hot and carb-heavy. I can’t believe how much I drank last night, or how stupid that was – how stupid I am . I wasn’t thinking about my pathetic tolerance, or the fact that I’d barely eaten in days – I just felt good , after that second drink, and I wanted to keep feeling good. But I got what I deserved, because emptying the contents of my stomach in front of Ezra didn’t feel very good at all.
I almost wish that the alcohol had blotted out my memory as well as my sense, but I remember it all, including how kind Ezra was. He was still sleeping when I left, sprawled out on the sofa with a tangle of hair obscuring his face. The TV was on, a quiet drone of early morning infomercials. I lingered before I let myself out, watching the rise and fall of his chest for a moment. Then I realised how completely deranged I must have looked and promptly left.
It felt awful, sneaking out like that. I tidied by way of apology and left a note, hastily scrawled on the back of a crumpled receipt from my jacket pocket. I’ll make amends, I’ve decided, and that starts with laundering the clothes and towels he lent me. It felt rude to leave them there, all damp and crumpled, so I put them in a bin bag and took them. It dangles from the crook of my elbow as I let myself into the apartment – I need to get changed and get my wallet before I can drop them off at the laundromat below.
I’m surprised and a little relieved to discover that Marika isn’t here. She’s probably gone for an early jog, which gives me plenty of time to get my stuff together without being grilled about last night. I change quickly, stuffing yesterday’s clothes into my laundry bag and tugging on a warmer outfit. It’s not until I’m shrugging my jacket back on that I hear the voices, hushed and low, coming from the hallway. Laughter, too. I freeze, not sure what to do.
‘Shh. She’s sleeping,’ One says –Marika, I realise.
‘Okay, okay,’ a girl replies, her voice rich and gravelly. It almost sounds familiar, and I’m wondering why when the door opens and they see me, standing in the middle of the room and quite obviously not sleeping. We all stare at each other for a moment. Then:
‘Hi. I’m Nicole.’
The girl standing beside Marika is considerably shorter with a soft, round face, hourglass curves and a lilac tint to her pale hair. She’s wearing a huge fleecy coat, and when she raises her arm in greeting the sleeve gapes to reveal an arm covered with ornate, floral tattoos.
‘Nicole,’ I echo, realisation dawning. ‘I know. You did my make-up at the Miranda Browning show. You got me a pastry.’
‘ Right ,’ she says, eyes alighting with recognition. ‘Wow. Hi! You changed your hair.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, touching it self-consciously. ‘It’s for a campaign.’
‘It looks awesome. And you’re Marika’s roommate?’
‘Audrey.’ I smile. ‘Nice to meet you. Again.’
‘Totally. Small world, huh?’ Nicole grins, glancing between us.
Marika still hasn’t said anything. She’s just watching me, wearing faded leggings and a hoodie that I’ve never seen before underneath her leather jacket. But I recognise the glittery slip dress in her hand, hanging loosely from her grip. She was wearing it when she left the apartment last night.
‘Totally.’ I smile, slightly lost. ‘So—’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t message you to say I wasn’t coming back here last night,’ Marika says suddenly, apparently regaining her voice. ‘My phone died.’
‘That’s okay,’ I tell her. ‘I wasn’t here, either. I messaged you, but – I guess that’s why you didn’t reply.’
‘Yeah,’ she says simply. We’re both silent for a moment, then –
‘We’re actually about to head out for breakfast,’ Nicole says brightly. ‘Want to come?’
‘Oh, um – I actually have some errands to run right now,’ I reply. ‘But that’s really nice of you to offer. Thank you.’
‘No worries. Guess I’ll see you around?’
‘Yeah!’ I enthuse, picking up the laundry and grabbing my tote bag. ‘Yeah, totally. Um – see you.’
And then I leave, slipping past them. I shut the door behind me, and don’t linger. I definitely don’t mean to hear Nicole say, ‘She doesn’t know?’
I don’t hear Marika’s answer. I don’t need to, to understand.