Chapter 15
CHLOE
This time last week, I was sitting in my flat overlooking the Stoke Newington Road, eating a ready-meal lasagne off my kitchen counter and reading the ingredients list to try to guess the number of calories in it.
I was five hundred off. I wasn’t completely sad.
I paired it with one of those tins of wine.
It’s what I do. I don’t even know how to sit down and decompress.
I stand there at my kitchen counter and eat and scroll through my phone, watching videos of people interviewing couples in the street and asking them how they met.
Often, it turns out that they met twenty years ago at a wedding and her favourite thing about him is that he’s kind and shows up for her. That’s when I cry over my lasagne.
But now I am in Ibiza. I am standing on a clifftop overlooking a beach at sunset; the sky is a cocktail of twenty different neon colours, from peach to pink; someone has lit a giant bonfire and crowds of revellers are drinking and jumping around to dance music.
Would I say this is my usual scene? Probably not.
I haven’t really done nightclubs since I was at university, there are too many people and not enough light, but if the last two days have taught me anything, it’s that I should take more chances, allow myself to be surprised and soak it all up.
‘Chloe, take some pictures of me. I have to show my kids that I was here and I was cool for one moment in time,’ Zara says, handing me her phone.
Miguel was very vague about where we were headed tonight so Zara’s in a white vest and denim cutoffs, a beaded handbag over her shoulder, whereas Jess is wearing a black maxi dress and trainers.
Someone runs past us in a fishnet top, silver swimming trunks and a rainbow sweatband; we follow their figure curiously down the rocky path.
‘I feel overdressed,’ Jess says.
‘I feel ancient,’ Zara mumbles, watching as three girls walk past us clutching bottles of vodka.
We wait for Ben and Miguel who are chatting to someone at a van. ‘Do you think they’re buying recreational drugs?’ Jess asks.
I look over as Miguel threads his arm through Ben’s and they both laugh.
I don’t know what to make of their relationship.
I hugged Ben earlier today in some sort of massage-induced moment of delirium.
It felt like it could have led to more until the dildo got in the way.
But then he left. And when I came downstairs, he and Miguel were hugging.
It was a long hug and then Miguel slapped him on the arse.
There were also some comments about ‘coming out’ and using a butt plug to have a good time.
So now I’m eternally confused. Is he gay?
Or bisexual? Maybe he’s in Ibiza for a good time? I think I’ve misread this.
There were some interesting items in that gift bag too: things I’m not hugely au fait with or sure I’m ready for.
I’ve got to the point in my life where I’ve been able to take a holiday, but I don’t think I’m at the orgy stage of life yet.
Though it might be funny to go back to the office and discuss that at the watercooler on my return.
I am now in a throuple with a man called Ben and a sixty-year-old called Miguel who cleans pools naked with a snorkel. Any questions?
‘If it’s anything stronger than weed then I might die,’ Zara says. ‘But please tell my children I loved them.’
‘I will,’ I say, holding her hands. ‘Jess and I will tell them you were at a super-cool club night and you took molly and snogged David Guetta.’
This makes Jess laugh so hard that she snorts. ‘What the fuck is molly?’ Zara asks, her eyes wide with fear.
‘I have no idea but I saw it in a film once,’ I tell them. ‘Look, at the risk of sounding very boring and sensible, is there a chance we can use this as a meeting point? In case of—’
‘A stampede?’ Jess jokes. But she puts her hand out. ‘Deal. We meet here and we look out for each other.’
Zara puts her hand on top of Jess’s and mine. ‘Two days in and we’re already besties,’ she says.
We all look at each other, grinning. I’ve heard about this, becoming friends with people you meet on holiday.
This friendship might have been born out of anxiety about what we’d signed up for but there’s something warming about having them around, knowing that we have each other’s backs, that we are not on this strange retreat alone.
‘By the way, did you guys get a gift bag from Miguel?’ Zara asks.
‘YES!’ Jess replies. ‘Did you get a dildo?’
Zara is in hysterics. ‘I did. Road tested that baby too,’ she tells us. Zara always has enough wine in her system to enjoy oversharing. ‘In the bath.’
‘I thought I heard a fair bit of splashing,’ I say, nudging her arm lightly.
‘Hon, I live with three teenagers who sleep at stupid hours. Not that I don’t have sex, but it was nice to have a moment to myself. In the bath. With no one banging down the door asking me about the location of their grey trackies,’ she says.
‘It must be quite nice, not having the faff of another person there – not that I don’t like my husband, but it’s been a while since…’ Jess’s voice trails off.
‘How old are your twins, chick?’ Zara asks her.
‘Eleven months,’ she says proudly.
‘Then it takes some time to get back on that. Natural birth?’ Zara asks her frankly.
Jess nods. ‘Then babe, you pushed two out of there. Even after one, I wouldn’t let Mike near me for a long while. My body was traumatised. I was afraid everything was going to fall out,’ she says, holding Jess’s hand. ‘You find a way back to it. Did you use your dildo today?’ she asks.
‘I took a picture of it and sent it to my husband,’ she reveals.
Zara laughs and shakes her head. ‘Jess, have a go on it. Have some fun. And what about you?’ she says, looking at me.
‘A lady never tells,’ I reply. But after Ben left, I’ll admit I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and I found a buzzer thing in the bag and explored – and well, it did the job. Afterwards, I realised it was the first time in a month I had orgasmed. Is that good or slightly tragic?
‘That means yes!’ Zara says, putting a hand up for me to high-five.
I reluctantly reply, ‘It means…’ I hesitate for a moment. Should I tell them that I’m crushing on Ben? It’s crossing a line. I can see how much they’re enjoying this trip and I don’t want to ruin it for them. ‘I’m having a very lovely holiday.’
‘We are here!’ a voice suddenly shouts behind us. I jump to see Ben and Miguel standing there. Ben especially because he’s wearing a white linen shirt with the buttons undone to halfway down his chest. Don’t look. ‘Time for fun!’ Miguel announces.
The three of us look at Miguel curiously because he already seems to be dancing to the beat echoing up from the beach. ‘Come on ladies, Benjamin – we are here to party, yes? To dance? Under the moon,’ he says gesturing upwards. ‘When was the last time you danced?’
We all look at him blankly. ‘I sometimes dance in my kitchen,’ Zara says.
‘When you are cooking the dinner, yes? No…’ Miguel says, pointing at Jess.
‘I dance at baby group every week. My cousin’s wedding a month ago.’
Miguel shakes his head from side to side. ‘You?’ he says, pointing to me.
‘Sometimes to the radio…’ When I’m waiting for a coffee in Starbucks, I might sway.
‘Ben, you dance?’ he asks, turning towards him.
‘All the time, obviously.’
‘You are a liar. We are here to dance. And not like some silly side-step, one-two, one-two,’ he tells us, demonstrating. ‘We go on the sand. We dance like monkeys, like we don’t care who’s looking, we are free, like the night. But first, here…’
We all look as Miguel reaches into his pockets.
Shit, is this where he gets out the drugs?
I’ve never done drugs. I wouldn’t know whether to swallow, smoke or snort.
But before my panic intensifies, he pulls out some mini bottles of alcohol.
‘This is brewed by my friend on the island, it’s Hierbas. You only find it on Ibiza.’
I can do shots. He hands out the little bottles until we’re all ready, Jess and Zara looking at me suspiciously. Together, we do this together. ‘?Salud, my friends!’ he says as we all clink our bottles.
I let the liqueur slide down my throat. Balls. It’s like inhaling some very potent thyme, I feel it burn my eyeballs and the skin at the back of my throat, emitting a strong cough like a dragon.
‘MERCY,’ Zara screams while Jess does the most hilarious gurn I’ve ever seen. They cling on to each other for help.
I shimmy on the spot to let the shot take effect, closing my eyes firmly. What the hell am I doing? Why am I here? But then I open my eyes again and I see Ben beaming at me, his head nodding towards the beach, his hands pumping in time to the music. I smile.
‘Dance?’ he mouths to me.
‘Yeah, why not?’ I say.