Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘Sam!’ I fly into the flat, slamming the door behind me. ‘Are you home? Samira?’
I pause to listen but there is only dead air in the rooms around me.
Dammit. I so wanted to burst in, all dramatic-like, and confess my undying love for my best friend. Her getting home after me feels so much more anti-climactic.
Maybe I’ll hide outside until she gets back?
I turn back for the front door, and suddenly, something flies at my face.
I catch the familiar evil flicker of stupid massive wings, and I scream, knowing what’s coming for me.
It’s the fucking daddy long-legs. It takes another run up, dive-bombing for my head and I run away full pelt, shrieking like a woman possessed.
I can feel its hot breath on my neck as I throw myself down the hallway, its spindly legs grabbing at me, ready to bite my head off.
For a split second, I almost give in and let him take me.
My death would be quick and painful. It’ll be what I deserve.
My life flashes before my eyes, and the image of my beloved Sam helps steel me.
I can’t die at the hands of this insect before I’ve told her I’m sorry and I love her – and then made her say it back.
I throw myself at the bathroom door, slipping inside and pushing it shut behind me.
I breathe hard, telling myself over and over that it’s okay. I made it. I didn’t lose my head to a daddy long-legs. I’ve lost my head to other evil males before, but not this time.
And then I hear the front door open and close. She’s home.
‘Sam,’ I yell, and there is a moment of silence.
Maybe it isn’t her, maybe it was the daddy long-legs letting himself out?
‘Liv?’ her familiar voice calls back at last. ‘Where are you?’
‘In the loo,’ I yell. ‘I can’t come out because the daddy long-legs is back, but I need to speak to you! I talked to Edward today and it made me realise some stuff. I’m so sorry. I love you so much, you’re my best friend and I’m really, really sorry—’
‘Hold on,’ she shouts, ‘I only heard about half of that. Let me get the stupid daddy long-legs out first.’
There is a kerfuffle outside the door, along the hallway. I try to mentally follow Sam’s movements, picturing her face screwed up with focus, holding the insect catcher aloft. She’ll be stalking that bastard right now, rescuing me like my very own white knight. Here she is, riding in to save me—’
There is a loud shriek and then the door flies open.
Sam lunges inside, kicking the door shut behind her and landing butt first with a thud on the bathmat.
She pants hard, frightened and trembly. I stare down at her.
‘Oh my god, did he try to eat you?’ I ask.
‘I knew those daddy long-legs were bad. You see? I told you! Should we ring 999?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s not the daddy long-legs.’ Her lip quivers. ‘It’s a… ladybird.’ Her eyes are wide with horror and now mine are wide with confusion.
‘You’re frightened of… ladybirds? Ladybugs? Those tiny little red bugs with cute little spots on their backs?’
‘They’re evil,’ she hisses. ‘They bite and pinch! And they have a toxic liquid they release – from their leg joints. Did you know that? What kind of messed up creature has toxic leg juice? And it’s called reflex bleeding. Is that not the most horrible thing you’ve ever heard?’
‘How did I not know that you were terrified of ladybugs?’ I ask, bemused. I offer her a hand. She takes it, standing up.
‘Don’t you remember that was what we kept fighting over at nursery school?’ she says, and I snort.
‘Dude, we were, like, four.’
‘We had a big fall out in Year One about it, too,’ she points out. A hazy memory jogs. A tiny Sam screaming about a book – one with a giant ladybird on the front cover. Us fighting over it. Me crying at home about the fight and the mean girl who hid my book.
‘God,’ I say, ‘our origin story was so Elphaba and Glinda.’
‘I’m Elphaba!’ we say at the same time. I only wanted to beat her to it.
‘Either way, it hasn’t really come up much as an adult. There seemed to be an awful lot more ladybirds around when we were kids. And you don’t really get them inside much these days, so it doesn’t come up in conversation.’ She glances fearfully at the door. ‘Why is it in here? How did it get in?’
‘I bet the daddy long-legs brought him in with him,’ I say. ‘I told you they’re calculating bastards. He was probably sick of you always beating him and made this plan to finally defeat you, recruiting your one natural enemy.’
‘You think?’ She regards me with fear plain on her face and I nod. Then a thought occurs.
‘Um, did you get the daddy long-legs out before you ran away to hide in here?’
She shakes her head. ‘No, they’re both out there, together, in the living room. And there’s no one else to save either of us.’
‘Nooooo!’ I cry. ‘So, we’re trapped?’ I breathe heavily. ‘We must be able to call someone!’ I look about me for my phone. ‘Why don’t we know any of our neighbours? Why haven’t we cultivated some kind of sexy ongoing flirtation with the boys across the hall?’
‘Because the boys across the hall are ten and eight years old, and live with their very hostile parents who hate us,’ she points out, and I nod.
‘Ah yes.’
We look at each other. ‘We’re going to have to do this ourselves,’ I say softly. ‘Together. You and me.’
I see her gulp. ‘Before we do, I have to say something.’ She stares into my eyes. ‘I had a big chat with Arshiya—’ she begins, and I interrupt.
‘I had a big chat with Edward!’
We laugh with relief, then she continues, ‘Look, Liv, I’m really sorry about our fight.
It was all my fault. You were right, I think.
There’s some horrible, sadistic part of me that quite likes you making bad choices.
I guess they made me feel better about my life or something.
That’s what Arshiya thought anyway. But I want you to know the real me – the conscious me, the non-buried-psycho part of me – only wants you to be happy and successful.
I want you to make good choices and not stalk exes or date awful pricks.
I want all the best things for you in the world.
I think you’re amazing and I’m so lucky—’
I cut her off with a sob. ‘Stop it, stop it. Sam, I’m sorry, too. I was so mean, and it was totally unfair of me to blame you for me messing up my own life. I hate that I hurt you. I love you so much.’
I pull her in for a hug and in my ear I hear her reply, ‘I love you, too, idiot.’
‘God, you’re so clingy. You have such an anxious attachment style,’ I tell her hair, and she snorts.
‘Shut up.’
I step back at last. ‘Edward thinks I’m afraid to be honest because I worry you might reject me like my stupid parents did.’
She gasps. ‘I would never.’ She looks sheepish. ‘Arshiya thinks I’m afraid to let you live your life without me because I don’t want to lose you like I lost my dad.’
‘You won’t lose me,’ I say firmly, and then we hug again. ‘Not ever.’
‘God, parents really fuck you up, don’t they?’ she murmurs into my ear. ‘Even the good ones.’
‘I think just existing in this world fucks you up,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Our rewards are just forever chemicals and trauma.’
She draws back, looking determined. ‘No. It’s time to take back control of our fuck ups, Liv.
’ Her hands are on my shoulders. ‘We need to make good choices and fight our demons.’ She grins.
‘By which I mean the daddy long-legs and the ladybird. They are the manifestations of our demons, and they must be defeated once and for all.’ She assumes some kind of Braveheart energy as she adds, ‘It’s time to take back our land. ’
I sniff. ‘I assume you mean our flat. And you’re right. I mean, it would be one thing if they contributed to the rent, but they don’t even do that.’
Sam looks around the bathroom. ‘We need weapons.’
‘There’s your very grimy, disgusting toothbrush?’ I offer, and she considers it.
‘Nah.’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t think insects are as germophobic as you.’
‘I would argue that it’s not about the germs,’ I say, ‘it’s about the gross crud build up around the head, which you know you’re supposed to change every three months—’
‘All right, moneybags,’ she retorts. ‘We’re getting off topic here.
’ She pauses. ‘How about the toilet brush? We could, like, herd them with the brush into the plastic bit and trap them inside and—’ She notices the face I’m making and laughs.
‘Okay, so disgusting things are off the table.’ She looks around again.
‘But honestly, I’m not sure what isn’t a bit gross in a bathroom, now I’m looking around.
A hairy razor? A mouldy flannel? A cruddy soap?
’ She pauses. ‘We really need a clear out, babe.’
‘Should we just rip the showerhead out of the wall and beat them to death with it?’ I suggest.
She narrows her eyes. ‘No. We’re not murdering them. They don’t deserve to die because of our broken psyches.’
‘They do,’ I mutter rebelliously.
‘I think if we make a run for the kitchen,’ she says bravely, ‘we can get the insect catcher. And then we go for it. Together. I’ll get the daddy long-legs, you go after the ladybird. We’ll do it for each other.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Wouldn’t it be healthier for us to confront our own issues? Take on our demon for ourselves?’
‘Sod that!’ she exclaims. ‘I think it’s fine to help each other. We’re human beings, we all need to look after one another.’ She looks me square in the eye. ‘I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine.’
I take her hand, our faces serious and solemn. ‘Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this.’
We turn for the door. At the last second I grab for her toothbrush. Just in case. It’s got to be better than nothing, hasn’t it?
And then we go.