Chapter 31
Olly offers out a hesitant right hand before changing his mind and returning his palm to his side. He puts his left arm around my waist. He’s not marking his territory, he’s trying to give me strength.
‘Are you not going to say hello?’ Liam’s lips are pursed, his eyes locked on me.
The noise is blurring everything out of focus. I pick up my glass and knock it back.
Liam continues. ‘You look amazing now you’ve lost the weight.’
If he’d punched me across the face, it would have been less painful. I don’t respond. I’ve pressed pause whilst the action continues around me. Alex is stood between Liam and Soumia.
Alex makes the mistake of trying to engage with her. ‘I’ve been meaning to text you to say soz about your promotion. I wouldn’t have posted the pic if I’d known.’
Soumia’s inner lioness has been woken. Her mane of red hair follows her as she leaps up to Alex’s face.
‘I think you best fuck off.’ Her roar is so powerful that Alex can’t find the words to respond and instead chooses to melt away into the crowd. ‘As for you, you prick,’ she’s got her finger in Liam’s chest, ‘I’ll fucking rip you a new one.’
Liam doesn’t budge. ‘It’s been a long time, Soumia. Glad to see you’ve missed me.’
Nick and Dave nibble away at their salt and vinegar, taking in the show.
Olly’s still got hold of me. ‘Doesn’t look like you’re welcome here, mate.’
‘He doesn’t know what he wants. Unless it’s food or your mum, eh Callum?’
I breathe in. One, two, three, four, five, six. Breathe. Seven, eight, nine. I’ve found my way outside. The cold air hits me in the face. There are raised voices that are drowned out as the door closes behind me.
The familiar bouncer who has greeted me in the pub a hundred times before is looking at me. ‘Are you ok?’
I nod and wipe away a tear from the side of my nose, its tickle alerting me to its presence. My mind’s spinning too fast for me to think. The cold has made me comfortably numb. I take the phone out of my pocket, look into the camera to unlock my screen, and tap for an Uber. Three minutes away.
Soumia charges out the bar and sweeps me into a hug. ‘What a fucking prick. Do you want to go somewhere else?’
There’s no salvaging my mood tonight. ‘No, I just want to get home.’ I show my screen to Soumia. The Uber’s two minutes away.
‘Shall we get the tram; we’ve got return tickets?’
‘No, I need to go now.’
We take in the colourful people bustling around us.
There’s no such thing as a quiet night in the gay village.
Tuesday is the new Saturday. Leather queens march the streets chased by twinks in hotpants, bears prowl and otters scavenge, all on the hunt for a good time.
Some will have it, others will go home with a bag of chips to keep them company, waking up in the morning in an empty bed, filled with self-loathing after a midnight carb binge.
Olly follows through the door patting down his coat. ‘He’s a pleasant chap.’
The words wash over me. He doesn’t reach for my hand or stand by my side. A silver Skoda pulls up at the kerb.
Soumia points to the car. ‘Our Uber’s here.’
She walks to the passenger door furthest away.
I wait for Olly’s next move.
He squeezes my arm. ‘Look after yourself.’
He turns and heads in the same direction as the twinks in glitter. I watch him walk away, expecting him to come back and check that I’m OK, or to ask if he can come home with me, but he turns the corner and steps out of view.
Soumia’s leans over from her side and opens the other passenger door. ‘Come on, get in.’
I do as I’m told, fasten my seat belt, and offer my hand to Soumia.
She takes it. We don’t speak, there’s no need.
The taxi heads off in the direction of north Manchester.
Turning left past Ancoats and the ladies of the night who stagger the streets amongst the residents of new swanky flats.
The ladies were here first and they’re reluctant to move.
The white streetlights reflect off the car window.
We continue past the arena, swarms of fans pour out wearing flashing head bands and t-shirts for a band I’ve never heard of.
Onwards through Cheetham Hill. It’s as we pass the old McDonald’s that’s now a large independent fruit shop, that I let Liam creep into my thoughts.
No wonder your mother left. I don’t know what I want unless it’s food.
I should have lost the weight when I was with him.
NO WONDER SHE LEFT YOU. Why didn’t Olly offer to come back to mine? He’s left already me too.
The driver is heavy on the brakes as teenagers climb over the gates of Heaton Park and stumble onto the road.
Avoiding them, we pass through Prestwich and Whitefield before turning left towards Radcliffe.
Soumia hasn’t let go of my hand, happily sitting in my silence on standby for when I’m ready to talk.
We pull up outside home; she leads the way up the short concrete path and unlocks the door.
I kick my trainers off and throw my keys in the bowl on the tiny table.
Soumia does the same. ‘Tea and toast?’
‘Just tea.’
Only now do I realise I’ve been breathing in since Liam stood by me at the table.
I run upstairs and quickly change into my loungewear.
I purposefully leave my phone in the room.
I don’t want to know what it’s got to say.
I put my XL top on, the size of it makes me feel like I’m hiding.
It used to be my favourite t-shirt to go out in, now I use it to shrink myself.
Grey with NYPD in blue letters written across the chest, it matches the colour of the cushions in the front room.
Back downstairs, I put on the TV, there’s only one thing to watch when I feel like this.
Soumia nudges the door open with her foot and spills some of the tea on the dark wooden floor. She stands in the liquid and rubs her foot back and forth, using her sock to mop it up. ‘Shall we watch Birds of a Feather?’
I’ve already got it loaded up. ‘Which episode?’
‘I’m not fussed.’
In the weeks after Liam left, I watched the series on repeat. Soumia and I could recite each episode word for word. I click play on a random one. The familiar theme tune sings out. We both join in. What’ll I do, when you, are far away…
Soumia takes her place at the other end of the sofa and takes a bite out of her burnt toast she’s loaded with butter. ‘Why are you friends with Alex?’
I turn the volume down on the TV, it’s come back on at the same volume we switched it off at hours earlier when we were using it to stream music. ‘She’s not that bad.’
‘She’s not that good. She knew you were in that pub, she would have seen the check-in on Facebook and shown Liam.’ Soumia dunks a piece of toast in her tea.
‘Alex is just Alex. Trouble follows her, but I don’t think she means it.’
I know from the first line of dialogue that this is the first ever episode from back in 1989.
Soumia picks up her second slice of toasted thick white that she’s cut into triangles. ‘Babe, you’re not thick. She’s the good time girl who’s been had by all. She’s only out for what she can get.’
‘I’m not denying she’s stupid, but she’s not malicious.’
‘Where’s she been for the last four months? Now she’s turned up twice in the space of a week and thought it would be a good idea to bring him.’
Four episodes later, I climb in bed and check my phone.
No messages. I open Whatsapp and search through my conversations for Mum.
I open and read the last message, I’ll come and see you soon.
It’s dated six months ago, the day after Liam walked out.
I’m still waiting for the visit. I type out a reply, Hope you’re ok mum, miss you.
Still being good. I reread the last part of the message before I send it and decide to delete it instead.
I close the messages and load up a flight tracking app and watch the planes travel across the globe taking people on adventures.
I choose one and try to guess where it’s going, San Francisco.
I’m wrong, it’s off to Washington. I imagine all the people on board excited to see the Whitehouse and the Lincoln Memorial.
I wonder if they’re eating sausage, mash, and peas with a drink stirrer.
A moment of intrigue for the wonder of travel finds me.
I text crewing, I’m available to fly tomorrow, staff #01617.
I don’t have time to put my phone down before a reply vibrates through, Thx 1045 local report MAN-MAD-MAN, special charter.
Flying to Spain and back wasn’t exactly the great escape I had in mind.