19. Present Day – Boxing day
19
PRESENT DAY – BOXING DAY
JOSIE
I squeeze my eyes together and lie back on my childhood bed while I wait for Ella to pick up the phone.
‘Hi,’ her voice sings out. ‘How’re you doing?’
‘Surviving. How are you? Wait , I’m not disturbing you and Nate doing some Boxing Day boning, am I?’
Ella tuts. ‘No, he and Chloe are making a turkey curry for our dinner later. Mum’s at work, and I’m sat here watching Christmas TV. I’m all yours.’ I can hear her wriggle around and clank the phone as she changes position. ‘So, your mum up to her usual tricks? Which is it? Job or love life?’
‘Both,’ I sigh.
‘Figures. You know you’re perfect as you are. You don’t need a guy, and you’re totally killing it with your art so … ’
‘Thanks, bestie.’
‘ And ,’ she drops her voice, ‘you know she’s doing it from a place of love.’
Ella gets it — I’m allowed to moan about my mum, but I won’t let anyone else talk badly about her.
‘You’re right.’ I shut my eyes. ‘What happened with Marcus wrecked her — the fact that we, none of us, are immortal. She’s just trying to regain some control.’
‘Even though control is really just a thin and flimsy illusion,’ Ella agrees. We’ve had this conversation a million times, but she still goes through it with me, talking me down off the ledge.
‘I can give her that, can’t I? I can tolerate her suggestions .’ I massage the bridge of my nose as I say, ‘I mean, it’s Christmas; it’s the least I can do.’
‘You’re a good daughter. How’s your dad been?’
‘Quiet as ever.’
My dad’s never been one for wasted words. Why take a paragraph when a sentence would do? But he just needs to clench his jaw and I know he’s not happy about something. Namely my life choices. He leaves the reproval to my mum, but I know he’s silently agreeing — only speaking out when he disagrees.
‘Jamie okay?’
‘Poor guy’s getting it in the neck, too. But I know they only want the best for us.’
‘Jose,’ Ella says, then hesitates. ‘When it’s not Christmas, have you, maybe, considered having a chat with them? Explaining that you’re happy as you are … that your goals aren’t their goals, but they’re still valid?—’
‘I will,’ I cut her off, my voice shrill. She’s right, but I’m not ready for that yet. ‘But I want to make sure my art has really taken off first — that it isn’t some pipedream. They’ll take it more seriously then.’
‘Okay.’ She doesn’t sound convinced. ‘What about telling your mum to back off about guys, then? That you want to focus on your career?’
I pull my pillow over my head and let out a muffled groan.
‘Josie?’
Straightening myself up again, I say, ‘The worst thing about all that is she’s fucking right. What is happening with my love life? It is a disaster.’ A vision of Scott, all broad shoulders and smouldering gaze flits through my head. ‘Why am I still thinking about him?’
Thinking about the way he fucked me so thoroughly, so completely, and then took so much care of me afterwards. Checking in that I was okay, fetching me a washcloth, my dress. It was like he understood me, could see what I needed, anticipated what I needed. When most people just don’t get me at all. I’ve never felt so cherished, so … seen.
‘Sweetie, it’s his fucking loss , okay?’
‘You’re right.’ I exhale deeply. ‘I just can’t believe it didn’t mean anything to him and he can … move on, like … it was nothing .’ Each time I say the word, my heart twists like it’s turning away from it, refusing to acknowledge that Scott did indeed feel nothing. Unlike me, the foolish girl, who had felt far more than I should have.
How could it not be the same for him?
‘I’m sorry,’ Ella says.
‘What are you sorry for?’
‘Your health hump I tried to distract you with . ’ She picks her way around the phrasing. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t come through for you.’
‘It’s the thought that counts.’ I give a chuckle. ‘And hey, Chunk and I are friends, at least.’
‘We both know a new friend is not what you need. Even though Chunk is lovely and actually,’ Ella chuckles, ‘a great friend. So,’ her tone drops, ‘are you going to try and speak to … That. Guy. About it?’ Ella bites out the words, loathing Scott in a way that only a best friend can.
‘He made his position very clear. I need to move on.’
‘His. Loss.’
‘But I feel like it’s mine. He was so … amazing …’
‘Until he broke your heart.’
‘But at first, the way he … I don’t know,’ I pick my words, not sure how to explain it. ‘… looked after me. He was unbelievable. Did I tell you about the tumble dryer?’
‘You didn’t tell me much about any of it.’
‘After the quiz, I’d had a … mishap … I was soaked, and he’d put my dress in the dryer. Fetched it for me. Helped me dress. Uh, and at Halloween, he found my shoes, put them on my feet. Fuck, Ella, has anyone ever put a shoe on your foot for you before?’
‘No, but by the sound of your voice, I’m planning on investigating this very soon.’
‘He just … made me feel things. And the worst part is, the way he looked at me, the stuff he said, like I was beautiful,’ I count off on my fingers, ‘that I did things to him, that I made him feel things. He said I was more fun than he’d had in a long time .’ I scoff. ‘Is that all it was? A bit of fun? ’
It had been fun. But, it had also been more than that.
What would it feel like with someone who liked me back? Imagine if what I felt with Scott was reciprocated? That feeling of levity, of joy, of freedom?
I sigh, spent with the emotion of it all.
‘What do you think about joining a dating app?’ Ella changes the subject.
‘I’d consider it, if it helps me get bloody Scott out of my head.’ The pitch of anxiety is dulled by my determination to forget the zombie. ‘I’m borderline obsessed, like he’s a freaking drug ,’ I spit the word. ‘Am I addicted to him? I feel like a fucking prisoner.’
‘Oh, Sweetie,’ Ella sighs. ‘Maybe you’re just hooked on his dick? Maybe you can find this with another guy?’
I sit up straighter. ‘Fuckin’ hope so,’ I huff. ‘Will you help me? On the apps?’
‘I’ve no clue what you’re supposed to do, but of course I’ll help.’
‘Thanks. You’re the best.’
‘I know.’ She giggles at the end of the line.
‘So, how’s things with you?’ I roll on to my stomach, kicking my heels up.
‘Everything’s great apart from work. No Christmas bonus and Boris?—’
‘—the Bell End,’ I chime in, filling in my nickname for Ella’s shit boss.
‘—is still up to his usual tricks. I can’t wait to flick him the Vs when I tell him I’m leaving.’
Too right. ‘The sooner you ditch that fucking dick, the better.’
‘I know. It won’t be long until I can jack it in. This teaching qualification is my ticket out.’
I’m so pleased for my friend; she’s found her calling. She knows what she wants to do and she’s working towards it. I, on the other hand, can’t really settle. I know I want to be an artist in the loosest sense of the term, and I’d love to earn a living doing what I love, but I have no idea what my niche is.
One friend from my art course is already doing watercolours of seagulls and lobster pots at the nearest beach resort. Another is booked out doing pet portraits. Abi’s killing it — halfway around the world, learning and exploring and … being . And here I am, stuck in an average British town, with no direction. The only thing I’m sure of is that I suck at portraits. No wonder my parents don’t take me seriously.
I hear my brother’s footsteps pounding down the corridor to his room, his two palms slapping above his doorway as he goes through. It’s the same every time he enters. He’s left grey smudges there from years of the same routine. The sound snaps me from my maudlin mood.
‘Can you ask Nate something for me? I know I’m friends with Chunk, but this may be pushing my luck.’
‘Go on?’
‘Are there any jobs going at The Wreck? Jamie’s looking for something part time to fit in with his college work. Maybe a shift or two a week.’
‘Sure, I’ll ask.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, I’m being called,’ Ella blurts. ‘Curry tasting emergency.’
‘Thanks for listening to me whine.’
‘You don’t whine often enough,’ Ella insists. ‘I love you. Now go get some cute selfies for your profile picture.’