Chapter 37
I’ve managed to wake Soumia up and drag her out the taxi and up the stairs to the bathroom. She’s face down in the toilet bowl whilst I’m holding her hair, making sure it doesn’t fall in the sickly water. The scent of Sambuca flavoured vomit fills the room.
‘I hate all men.’ Soumia’s mascara has cried a river down her cheek; being sick has made her eyes water. Snot hangs from her nose. I hand her a tissue. ‘I don’t hate you though, babe. I love you. I hate captains. Not only captains, first officers too. Flight deck dickheads.’
She wrenches up more Long Island into the toilet. I go to the sink and refill the glass I brought up for her with water. She necks it back.
‘I’m sorry, babe. You shouldn’t be here with me, you should be out fucking Olly.’
‘I did, in the toilets.’
‘Did you? You dirty bastard.’ She laughs then vomits. ‘And her, with her pink hair, Alex.’ Saying her name nearly forces Soumia to vomit again. ‘She’s a bitch.’ Soumia takes a swig of water. ‘But the real problem is men.’
‘Liam spoke to me.’
‘See, he’s a problem. I hope you told him to knob off.’ Soumia flushes the toilet chain but stays hovering over the rim in case she vomits again.
‘He asked to give it another go.’
‘He’s a shower of shite. You’re not letting him back in, are you?
Don’t let that dick head within ten feet of you.
You’re worth more than that. You don’t need a man.
I’ll look after you.’ Even though her fringe is stuck to her forehead, a bubble of snot is under her nose, and lipstick is on her teeth, Soumia gives me the biggest smile.
Then vomits again. ‘I fucking hate men.’
‘Come on, let’s get you into bed.’
I pull Soumia up off the floor and help her through to her bedroom. I place a washing up bowl by the side of her bed and fetch her two pain killers from the shit draw in the kitchen, which is mainly crammed with takeaway menus and old flying rosters.
‘Get these down you, you’ll be glad of it in the morning.’ I place the two pills in Soumia’s hand; she swallows them without water.
When I see someone take any pills it always reminds me of an old flying story.
On a flight to Jeddah, one of the Saudi women was complaining of a headache by banging her head with her hand and signing to the crew to give her something for it.
One of the crew gave her two paracetamol and a glass of water.
The woman dipped the paracetamol in the cup and then stuck the tablets in the middle of her forehead where they stayed for the rest of the flight.
There may have been some method in her madness, as she didn’t complain again.
My phone buzzes from inside my pocket.
‘Who’s texting you at this time?’ Soumia asks. ‘I bet it’s Olly, declaring his love.’
Soumia’s pretty much sobered up now she’s vomited up all the alcohol and had a couple of pints of water, but I don’t envy her headache when she wakes up in the morning.
‘I hope so. Maybe he’s sent a dick pic,’ I joke.
‘Ewwww, shut up.’ Soumia pulls the bed covers up over her face to hide her disgust.
‘Don’t tell me McBride hasn’t sent you a dick pic.’
‘His name is forever banned from this house. You look happy with Olly.’
‘I really am. I know it sounds stupid, it’s only been a month, but I haven’t felt a connection like that with someone since I first started seeing Liam. It’s exciting.’ I’m glowing inside. Joy runs through my veins like a river at the thought of seeing him again.
Soumia’s sat upright nursing her water. ‘I can see it in your eyes. You know you deserve happiness.’
Maybe I’m not so bad after all. ‘I can’t wait to see him tomorrow.’
‘Go on, have a look at what he sent you, I know you’re dying to.’
‘I feel like a teenager.’
I whip the phone out from my pocket, stare at the screen to unlock it, then take a second to register the messages aren’t from Olly.
The river of joy evaporates. The blood to my heart clogs.
Soumia reaches forward. ‘Babe, what is it?’
I stand up and run to the bathroom.
‘I’m gonna be sick.’