Chapter 27
My vibrator dully whirrs away on my clitoris, which, rather than being filled with pleasure, has been rendered numb by fifteen minutes of assault.
It doesn’t matter what fantasies my imagination can conjure up, sitting on Gavin’s face or having a crowd of beautiful women pawing my body or being spit-roasted by Colin and Willie, my vagina and clitoris have shut off.
Porn could help. It’s not that I don’t like watching it, but recently my own imagination has been more fruitful.
It turns out I am capable of all kinds of specific, filthy thoughts that have not yet been captured on film.
It’s unsettling I’m unable to get even a little aroused.
This is not a problem I’ve ever had before; even the day after Nicol left I was able to wank successfully.
Admitting defeat, I turn the vibrator off, abandoning it beside me on the bed.
I stare at the ceiling. Handing the documents over to Amara was an anticlimax.
In essence, it was passing paper to a woman I no longer knew.
Under the bright white light of the supermarket the chewed nubs of her fingernails stood out to me, her eczema flaring on her forearms like it does when she’s stressed.
It made me think of things from her perspective.
I was her one true pal, too, and now she’s left with only Nicol.
No one to text about the couples on Love is Blind, no one to invite round for a drink and a chat on a quiet Friday night.
The whole encounter held no sense of glory; throughout, the soundtrack in my mind was worries about what had turned Gavin against me.
It became even more mysterious once I left ASDA and spotted them outside Nando’s.
They were on a call like they said they’d be and it looked heated.
The words were indistinct but their anger was not.
Pulling my pants up, I realise I’ve grown used to my new behaviours having a big payoff.
Knowing I am not going to see the results of helping Amara and Nicol out tonight, or tomorrow, probably not in the next few months, is deeply unsatisfying.
Gavin’s attention to me, vanishing as quickly as it came, is equally unsatisfying and I demand satisfaction.
Just as I start a google on incognito mode to check what the current status is with Pete, Gavin messages me. Opening it, I brace myself for it to be them letting me down gently, convince myself that it’s better this way. Their message reads:
Sorry I couldn’t hang around, something urgent came up. I owe you a proper goodbye kiss x
The smirk on my face doesn’t shift after I’ve reread the message several times and moved onto what the world knows about Pete so far.
It’s an arduous route to get there, clicking through headlines on the Glasgow local news site which I entered through a story about buffer zones around abortion clinics on their Facebook page so, should my internet history ever be examined, how I reached Pete’s story will appear organic.
His story is there – ‘Concern Grows for Missing Glasgow Man’.
His family must really love him to be so worried so soon.
If I had been gone for only two days my mother wouldn’t have a clue.
How long it would take doesn’t bear considering, but nine months seems closer to when they’d notice.
Maybe a full year before the authorities were contacted.
I consider ringing the tip line to help them find him quicker but decide against it because that feels like asking to be caught and I do not want to be caught.
The physical and mental toll of the revenge I’ve been wreaking is something I have to work up to, like calling Scottish Power to discuss my direct debit payments.
I’m not ready for another one, yet. Still, just because I’m full it can’t hurt to read the menu.
I put my laptop on the bed beside me, sweeping my vibrator out of the way.
I don’t need to hunt for an episode of Fixer Uppers Go Under the Hammer to watch because I already have a fresh one open on the browser, ready for when the urge would next hit me.
Fixer Uppers Go Under the Hammer
Series 28, episode 28.
First broadcast 19/05/22.
MALCOLM walking down Candleriggs in Glasgow, a cobbled road which has pubs and restaurants on either side of it.
MALCOLM
Now this is an unusual property. The layout is frankly bizarre, but with a little work it could result in bizarrely good profits.
OFF SCREEN: JEMMA begins to feel the toll of the exertion of the last few days.
Her attention falters, she gets the gist: a shower has been installed in the kitchen, the fridge and washing machine are inexplicably in the bathroom, and there’s a spiral staircase in the living room that leads to a mezzanine level that should be the second bedroom but has no sound insulation from the room below.
The auction is won by PAULA, her belly swollen in late pregnancy.
MALCOLM
Paula, this will be a great flat in a fantastic area, with a little love. What’s the plan? Is this for you and baby to live in it once they arrive?
PAULA
(Rubbing her belly.) Oh no. You’re right, this would be a wonderful home but not for us. We’ll be renting this out as soon as it’s ready.
OFF SCREEN: JEMMA thinks How could you, Paula? Somehow it is worse to be disappointed by a woman who speaks in an accent not too dissimilar to her own. Disappointing, too, that she can do nothing to stop Paula with her being a woman and therefore out of bounds due to the rules.
MALCOLM
Is this your first foray into renovation and property management?
PAULA
No. Because my income fluctuates quite a bit as I’m a freelance makeup artist, I’ve already invested in a holiday home on Skye to give me a regular income. The plan is for this to also be a short-term let for people visiting the city. It’s a prime location.
OFF SCREEN: JEMMA considers if having a fluctuating income is a reason to take a house and rent it out to tourists rather than people who live and work in a place. She then decides she’s had enough for tonight and shuts the flap of her laptop down.