2. Actually, no man is as funny as me or any woman I’ve ever met.
3. Does funny matter when over the course of the evening I’d been able to stop thinking about Tom for more than three minutes?
3a. AND been reminded what it was like for a very attractive man to speak to me like I was more than an orifice or someone hugely inferior?
“Oh, I’m sure you’re very hard, Ted,” I purred. What was I doing? I thought of another boring and practical question to ask. “And who do you live with, Ted?”
“I live with—hold on a sec, you’ve got something in your hair,” he said, moving toward me, his hand reaching toward my hair, getting so close that there was about a millimeter of space between us.
I looked up at him and my mouth parted as he leaned down.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Oh, come on!” He laughed.
“Seriously, what time is it?” I repeated, panic taking over.
“Five past six,” he said, showing me his watch.
“I have to go, sorry, late, fireworks!” I ran out of the pub and continued running until I made the Overground train to Crystal Palace. I didn’t catch my breath until I met Cassandra, who was shivering outside the station.
“Ready for the hill?” she asked, blowing warm air into her bony hands. Cassandra was the first Jewish person I’d ever met. This was probably because I grew up in South London and only ever ventured north to see our other side of the family. I’d put my stuff next to Cassandra in an English language seminar at uni, and as soon as I sat down, she leaned over to me and said that as the two minorities in the course, we should stick together.
The first thing I’d noticed about Cassandra, after her pushiness, was her hair. It was long, dark brown, but shone gold when it caught even a glimpse of light. Like her hair, her eyes were brown but specked with shards of gold. Other classmates avoided her, I’m guessing because her leading personality trait is “spiky,” but I didn’t mind it, I still liked her. Not in spite of the spikiness, either. After introducing herself in that seminar, she told me that I should let her cook me dinner that evening, and has told me how to live my life at every given opportunity since.
“Is anybody ever ready for this hill?” I said, looking up the almost vertical incline. “We need to wait for Darcy, though. She got held up in the office.” I checked my phone. “And we’re meeting Kyazike at the park gates.”
“Oh, before I forget—” Cassandra said, pulling an envelope out of her pocket. “A hundred fifty pounds, right?” She seemed to dangle the envelope in front of me.
“Yes, thanks. Sorry, I know it’s annoying, but I can’t really borrow any money from Tom anymore . . .” I apologized.
“It’s not annoying, but I don’t understand it,” Cassandra said. “When you run out of money, why don’t you just use your other money?”
“What?” I laughed. “What other money?”
“You know, savings, a retirement account, that sort of thing?” I looked back at her blankly. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll start a tab.” She handed the envelope to me.
We continued to stand in the cold waiting for Darcy, Cassandra telling me that every man she met fell in love with her, but it had been so long since she’d met a man she could actually have a “connection” with. “. . . and Derek was such a bore, Queenie. He didn’t ask me any questions about myself in the four months we were dating. I had to drive all conversation. I decided, one evening when we went for dinner, that I wouldn’t ask him anything about himself. Guess what? We didn’t exchange a word after the hellos.”
* * *
By the time Darcy got to the station, we were frozen solid. My nose had almost fallen off, and Cassandra’s teeth were chattering comically.
“Sorry I’m late! Sorry! Hello again, Queenie! How was the drink?”
“A lot. Too much,” I said as she hugged me quickly.
“Well, I did tell you,” she said, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Nice to see you again, Darcy. Should we all get moving?” Cassandra said flatly, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck. We all began to walk up the steepest hill in South London, my knees practically hitting my chest with each step. The girls strode up, chatting. I was too out of breath to get involved, instead listening along and either nodding in agreement or shaking my head.
“So, how are things with you and your boyfriend, Darcy? Are you still together?” Cassandra asked. “Sorry to play catch-up, I just haven’t seen you for a while. I hear bits and bobs through Queenie, though. What’s his name again?” Cassandra interrogated, the click of her heels echoing around us as we walked.
“Simon? Yes, he’s good! We moved in together a few months ago, and it seems to be going well! There are some issues, some troubles, but—”
“Like what?” Cassandra asked, almost greedily.
“Well, you know he’s fifteen years older than me? He’s ready for a life that I didn’t think I’d have to even start thinking about for years! Children, and mortgages, and . . .” It all came tumbling out.
“Why do you never talk to me about this?” I puffed.
“It all seems a bit trivial given what you’re going through.” Darcy smiled. “It’s okay, it’s nothing that I can’t handle.”
“How long were you together? You know, before you moved in with each other? Do you think you did it too soon?” Cassandra pressed on with the immediate and unasked-for psychoanalysis.
“Um, I think six years?” Darcy said. I nodded.
“Six years?” Cassandra repeated. “That’s a good amount of time before moving in together, isn’t it, Queenie?” I was facing ahead, concentrating on the top of the hill, but with my peripheral vision I could see Cassandra looked at me pointedly. I nodded again, swerving her dig, and tried to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.
“Well, you know, it’s always a tricky thing, and some couples just aren’t cut out for it. But it’s no bad thing if they aren’t!” Darcy said, putting an arm around my shoulders, as if getting up the hill wasn’t hard enough. I nodded, switching to mouth breathing.
“I’m not being mean, I’m just thinking out loud,” Cassandra snipped. “Plus, along with everything else, Queenie didn’t even want to move in with Tom so soon. She told him that she wasn’t ready and he basically gave her an ultimatum. That’s not fair.” I nodded in agreement. “I don’t think she should see him again.”
“. . . Isn’t that a little bit harsh, Cassandra? They were together for three years. They’re still together, sort of. And they love each other.” Darcy clearly didn’t understand that the best way to deal with Cassandra was to let her think that she was right about everything.
“A break may as well be a breakup,” Cassandra said definitively, and Darcy was silenced by this pronouncement.
We finally got to the top of the hill, me hoping that the sweat at my temples wasn’t visible, the girls unbothered by the hike. We walked toward the entrance of the park, and through the clusters of crowds, I saw Kyazike leaning against the iron gates. We weaved our way toward her, me trying to touch as few people as possible.
“You lot took your time,” she said, blinking slowly. “It’s chappin’ out here. And you’re lucky it’s not raining anymore.” Kyazike didn’t like mud, or fireworks, or the cold, but I’d convinced her to come out and meet my other best friends, given that they’d been in a group chat for the last two months and them not knowing each other IRL was going to get weird soon. I may or may not have suggested that I wouldn’t do her hair again unless she came out with us.
“Sorry, it’s my fault! I’m Darcy, hello!” Darcy leaped toward Kyazike and hugged her tightly. “I can’t believe we’re only just meeting, I’ve heard so much about you. And spoken to you, fellow Corgi!”