“No. You aren’t doing it. Think of your grandmother,” Darcy warned. “Be careful, please, I don’t want you to jump back into a pattern that made you ill in the first place. Remember why you’re going on a date and not just meeting him at his house, because you want something long-last—”
“Darcy! He is an adult, I am an adult. Sort of. Yes! I am less of an adult than him but he is an adult grown man and I’m a grown woman like Beyoncé sings and he surely will respect me enough to continue things if he so wants to. Both adults—”
I stopped talking when a man walked into the bathroom. “?’Scuse me, sir!” I slurred, looking around for another woman to back me up and chase this pervert out. I only saw urinals.
“Sssssorry.” I walked out of the men’s toilets and put my phone back in my bag, managing to walk in a straight line to the table. Balding Alpha was tapping on his phone. He looked up as I sat back down, placing it facedown on the table.
“Ready?” He smiled, standing up and grabbing the bottle of wine. We left the bar and crossed the road. Balding Alpha slipped his hand in mine, and I wondered if it took me more than five seconds to pull my hand out of his because I was drunk, or because the counseling had worked.
As we walked back to his house, he spoke, at length, about himself. I didn’t mind, because I wasn’t entirely sure that anything that came out of my mouth was going to make any sense.
“Here we are!” he said, as we got to one of those ex–council houses that have in recent years been bought either by property developers or by young people whose parents are happy to “help with the deposit.”
“Come in.”
A wall of heat hit me as I stumbled in. I looked around and familiarized myself with his house; if I knew where everything was, I’d be able to keep my anxiety at bay.
“I’m going to hang my suit up, but let me just—” He bent down and kissed me, me having to crane my neck ninety degrees to work with his height.
He left the kitchen so swiftly that I was left standing there, pouting as though kissing the Invisible Man. I was thirsty and thought it might be weird to look for a cup, so I stuck my head under the tap and turned on the cold faucet.
“You could have asked for a glass,” Courtney said, walking back into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.
“But you might have laced all of your glasses with drugs,” I said, wiping water from my mouth with the back of my hand.
“What?” he said, going to the cupboard and retrieving two wineglasses. I watched his body, openmouthed.
“Nothing.” I gulped as I took in the muscles that rippled down his back. “Do you go to the gym a lot?”
“Jujitsu. The torso ain’t what it was ten years ago, though.” He turned to face me and patted his six-pack.
“What was it ten years ago?” I marveled. “Are you sure you’d want to see me naked? I don’t go to the gym at all, and the thing that I eat most is chocolate. I mean it. Like family-size bars.”
“Don’t be silly,” Balding Alpha said, leading me into the living room “. . . you have a beautiful face.”
* * *
“Wait here, I’m just gonna go and get a condom,” Balding Alpha said presumptuously, as he stood up and turned to look at me. Wait—at what point had he decided that we were going to have sex? He bent and pulled the shoulder of my dress down, licking the skin underneath. “Tastes like chocolate,” he said as he left the living room. Why was I surprised?
When he came back into the room, I was getting my coat on. “Where are you going so soon?” he asked, flopping onto the sofa and pulling me down with him.
“Ah, I think I should go. I’m not feeling so good.”
“Nah, you’re fine, sit down,” he said, stroking my thigh. That did actually make me feel not so good.
I opened my mouth to say: “Sorry, I just feel like I shouldn’t do this. I don’t think I have a very good relationship with sex, and I thought I was getting better, and this is the worst idea and also what you said was racist, whether you know it or not, so I’m going to take myself home.” But instead I said: “The chocolate thing. Why?”
“The chocolate thing?” He laughed nastily. “I knew you were one of those.”
“One of what?”
“One of those Black Lives Matter girls.”
“Of course I am. It says it really high up on my dating profile.”
At least I no longer had to worry about how I was going to sober up. I was halfway to stone-cold sober in a second.
“Don’t you think it’s just a stupid movement?” he asked me, quite seriously. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I’m not racist or anything [always good to say it!], but don’t you think it causes more problems than it solves?”
“Yeah, I really need to go.” I sighed, bored with the discussion before we even got into it. “This is a bit much for a first date, Courtney.”
“Really? I thought you’d want to be challenged, strong black woman like you?” he said, arrogance flashing across his face. “We can sit and talk about music, about films, about all that nonsense, but don’t you want proper conversation, proper stimulation?”
“Well, not when it’s about this. I expected to go for a drink with a nice man and talk about everything but this. I shouldn’t have to defend myself and my beliefs.” I sighed again.
“Sorry, no, come on, I don’t want to upset you. Let’s talk about something else.” He poured himself more wine as I looked at him, knowing exactly what would come out of his mouth next. “I bet you think that you can’t be racist to white people, too.”
* * *
Two hours. We debated, nonstop, for two hours. I kept my coat on. One hundred and twenty minutes of me having to explain why the Oxford English Dictionary definition of racism that he kept waving in my face was tired, how racism is systemic, how reverse racism was NOT a real thing, why it wasn’t okay to refer to his Senegalese friend Toby as “black as the ace of spades,” while he tried to counter and manipulate all of my points and say, at the end of every other sentence, “but don’t listen to me, I just like to provoke.”
“That’s the thing about people who love to play devil’s advocate!” I shouted. “There’s no emotional involvement in it for you, there’s nothing at stake!”
I made my way to the front door. “It must be nice to be so detached from a life that someone like me actually has to live.” I slammed the door behind me. Unbelievable.
THE CORGIS
Darcy
Queenie, you’ve never put the phone down on me before. Can you let us know you’re okay?
Kyazike
What happened?
Darcy
She called me from the pub, I was trying to tell her not to go home with this guy, she said something about being like Beyoncé, and the line went dead. She was really drunk
Kyazike
Do you know where they were?
Darcy
A pub in Brixton, I don’t know the name, I can meet you at the station and I can find it by foot
Kyazike
Aight, cool, let’s wait until 11. If she hasn’t replied by then, I’ll come meet you
Queenie
I’M FINE
Queenie
Sorry
Queenie
SORRY
Kyazike
KMT
Darcy
KMT indeed
Queenie
Sorry both. I bet you didn’t miss how much of a liability I am! Anyway, my battery died, I just got home. Will explain all tomorrow
Queenie
I just snuck back into my grandparents’ and I think my grandmother has just woken up, so actually you might never hear from me again
Queenie
You must have been REALLY annoyed to say kiss my teeth, Darcy, sorry again
* * *
I popped into Kyazike’s bank the next day and stood in line until I was close enough for her to look up and make eye contact with me. She left the woman she was serving and came over to me.
“Hello, madam, I am so glad that you could come in for your appointment.” Why was she talking to me like a robot? “If I can just lead you to the consultation room? I’ll be with you shortly.” Kyazike whisked me into a frosted-glass compartment in the corner of the bank and closed the door behind me.
Five minutes of me playing with the pen chained to the desk later, Kyazike walked in carrying various folders and shut the door.