Straight Talking (7 page)

He left me to go and talk to Adam. “I can’t handle this,” he said as he got his coat. “I’m going to see Adam, I’ll be back later.”

Mel rang but I couldn’t talk to her. Every time I tried to say something my chest would start heaving and I couldn’t physically get any words out.

“He’s left you on your own?” she said in horror, but I didn’t want her to come over, I wanted Simon back, and although he wasn’t going to be gone for long, or so he said, I knew he’d left as soon as he met Tanya. Or kissed her, or cuddled her naked in bed.

I got up and looked in the bathroom mirror, feeling as if I were in a dream, as if any moment now Simon would walk through the door and take me to bed, as if this couldn’t really be happening.

Jesus, I looked a state. Red puffy eyes, like Dracula’s daughter, and tear-stained cheeks. Simon was coming back but I didn’t care, I wanted him to suffer by seeing how much he’d made me suffer. I wanted him to hurt as much as I was hurting.

He did come back and he said he thought it would be best to sleep in the spare room. Remember that first night, when I told you how neither of us slept because we were so happy? I thought about that all night as I lay in his bed, wide awake, crying softly into the pillow. I think I must have fallen asleep at about six, because the birds were singing and light was beginning to filter into the room.

When I woke up, at twenty past eight, I remember thinking, something’s wrong, but what the hell is it? And immediately I remembered, and it became real when I realized that Simon wasn’t in bed next to me, there was no leg thrown over my body, and no sleepy dry hand gently resting on my stomach.

I didn’t cry after I woke up, I think I just felt a bit dead, a bit like life wasn’t really worth carrying on with. I went to make a coffee in the kitchen, and while I was standing there Simon came in.

He put his arms around me from behind, and kissed the nape of my neck. I froze. Maybe he had changed his mind, maybe it was a bad dream. But then he whispered, “I’m sorry,” and I knew it was over.

It wasn’t much of a consolation but Simon looked as bad as I did. Before Simon I never understood why you were upset if you were the dumper, you were only supposed to be upset when you were the dumpee, but, Jesus, Simon looked like shit.

“Look, move your stuff out whenever you want, it’s no problem, but I think it’s best for both of us if you’re not here when I get back this evening.”

What could I say? There wasn’t anything to say, and I took my coffee back to the bedroom and sat in bed, with the duvet huddled around me for comfort, as I listened to Simon getting ready for work.

He didn’t sing that morning. He always sang while he was showering and shaving, snatches of Offenbach and Bizet, mixed with Neil Young and sometimes Oasis if he was feeling trendy, except he never remembered the words, he’d make them up as he went along.

Today will never be the same, is what I have to say to you.

And how, you’re gonna somehow find a way to do a great big poo.

It used to make me laugh when he did that. Especially when he sang Bizet, making up great snatches of French, which was a language he never excelled at during O level.

But this morning there was silence. I was almost tempted to break into song myself,
If you leave me now, you’ll take away the very heart of me
. . .

I sang the words in my head instead, with the accompaniment of the silent dripping of tears on my pillow. Simon didn’t say good-bye, I just heard him shut the front door gently behind him. Maybe he thought I was asleep, but probably he just didn’t want to face the music. Good joke, eh? Except it wasn’t funny at the time.

You can live with someone, laugh with someone, love someone, and suddenly it’s all gone. You want to reach out to them and hold them, but an invisible barrier has sprung up. This is how it was for me and Simon. When we were in the kitchen we were behaving like strangers, bloody strangers, when only the week before we had been whispering how much we loved each other.

That’s how it is with relationships, it’s part of life, and all the great love songs and poems and films have been written by people who were standing where I was that morning as Simon shut the door. Doesn’t make it any easier though.

7

After that phone call from Simon my week went to pieces, are you surprised? David and Annalise threw a joint fit at work when one of my guests, the bloody fill-in guest at that, didn’t turn up. We had to extend the item on flower arranging to twenty minutes, and even Annalise—Annalise who lives for dried flowers, country pine kitchens, and gingham sofas—looked bored to shit.

The rest of the show went smoothly, but, Jesus, did I get my eyes bawled out by the editor. I walked into his office after the show and said, “I don’t suppose a blow job will make things better?” with a sheepish grin that was more of a grimace trying hard to be a smile.

He wasn’t impressed. “That’s not the sort of thing I want to hear when anyone could walk past, Anastasia,” he hissed, “and, no, for your information the best blow job in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that the vast majority of your show today was shit.”

“Oh come on, that’s not fair, what else could I have done?”

Oh screw the lot of them. But luckily today’s Sunday and I’m going out for lunch. It’s Mel and Daniel, Emma and Richard, Adam and a friend of Adam’s, some bloke called Andrew.

You’re probably wondering about Adam, aren’t you? Yes, for your information it is
that
Adam, Simon’s best friend. When we first split up, he was my one connection to Simon, I used to meet him to suck information from him like a sponge, but then he became just Adam. Safe, reliable, lovely Adam, and he’s one of my closest friends.

Andrew I didn’t really know. He and Adam go back years, and I’d met him on and off ever since I was with Simon. I’d been exceedingly polite but I hated him on sight. He is one of those very tall, very good-looking blokes that completely and utterly love themselves. I know what you’re thinking, I probably fancied him and you’re right, I probably did, but I never thought a bloke like Andrew would look at me twice, so instead of wasting my time fancying him, I decided to hate him.

I wasn’t actually rude to him, I was just frostily polite and when he was asking me questions I practically stonewalled him. I wanted to show him that I, unlike all the other women at the party, wasn’t taken in by his smarmy charms.

Adam and Andrew arrive to pick me up in Adam’s car—a convertible Saab. Nice car, I think as I clamber into the back, trying not to mark my new white trousers, why can’t I fall in love with a man like Adam?

Adam jumps out of the car to let me in and gives me a quick kiss and a squeeze as his mate Andrew turns around and shoots me an I-love-myself-so-you-probably-love-me-too grin. “How are you, Tash?” I’m instantly caught off-guard, but secretly slightly flattered that he uses my nickname, that it sounds so intimate rolling off his tongue.

“I could never be as good as you Andrew, but I’m trying.”

“I don’t know, you don’t seem to be doing too badly,” and with that he eyes me up from head to toe, and, stupid bitch that I am, I feel myself sucking in my stomach.

We drive to the restaurant in Primrose Hill for lunch. No one needs to talk on the way over because the sun’s out, the roof’s down, and Alanis Morissette is blaring out of the four speakers.

I can see Andrew’s hair blowing up in the wind and although he looks ridiculous when he turns around to smile at me with his hair all over the place, I can’t help it, my loins stir, this man is so . . . so fuckable.

We get out of the car and Andrew says, “Here, your collar’s up,” and he moves his hand to turn it down, and as we walk down the road he leaves his hand resting on the back of my neck, and my stomach doesn’t just twist, it does a major somersault.

Adam turns around and sees us walking up the road, with Andrew’s hand rubbing the back of my neck and he turns away very quickly. Strange, I think, but I’m enjoying it, I haven’t had this sort of attention for ages.

And then we walk into the Engineer and Mel gives me a huge cuddle. “I’ve missed you,” she says, “I haven’t seen you for ages.” It’s been a week, but this is how girls are when they love each other and they’re there for each other.

“Hi, Tash, looking gorgeous as ever,” says Daniel, the slimy bastard, and he stands up to kiss me, aiming for the lips but as usual I turn my head and get a sloppy wet kiss planted on my cheek, with a quick rub on my arse for good measure.

I can’t move his hand because Mel might notice, so I just ignore it and move away very quickly.

“Your friend’s boyfriend seems to rather, er, like you,” says Andrew, sitting down next to me which I’m very happy about, because now I can flirt with him as much as I want to. Except the problem is I can’t, because every time he talks to me I start stammering like an idiot.

Why does this always happen? Why do I always revert back to a shy, chubby sixteen-year-old when a man I really fancy tries to talk to me?

“He’s such an idiot. It doesn’t mean anything, he does it to everyone. I think he thinks it makes him more attractive.”

“What about if I were to do that to you? Would it make me more attractive?”

You couldn’t be more attractive if you tried, I think, but of course I don’t say it, I say, “Looking the way you look right now, anything would make you more attractive.” I laugh, reaching up and combing his hair down.

Shit, this man is gorgeous. I’m sorry, I know I keep saying that but I can’t remember the last time I really fancied someone, and even though he has
DANGER
written all over his face, even though he’s a heartbreak waiting to happen, I’m not sure whether, when push comes to shove, as I sincerely hope it will, I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to resist.

Adam’s sitting on my other side, and I feel ever so slightly irritated as he rubs my back while I’m sitting there, the last thing I need is for Andrew to think there’s something going on between Adam and me.

But I need to be nice, and I
do
love Adam, I just don’t love him right now, but I have to make the effort.

“How’s the strange world of shop furnishings?” Because this is what Adam does for a living. In fact, you’ve probably had a cappuccino in one of his restaurants, or possibly admired a staircase he’s designed in your favorite designer store in town.

“Strange,” he laughs, “but not as strange as television. What’s the gossip this week?” Adam loves all the gossip from the show. He loves hearing who’s sleeping with who, who’s in, who’s out.

“What?” interrupts Andrew. “Since when have you been interested in television gossip?”

“It’s a whole new world,” says Adam, “and it’s amazing what Tash knows. What was the name of that actor you shagged, you know, the one who wanted you to pee on him?”

I blush a flaming red. “It wasn’t recently, Adam, it was over a year ago and you’re not meant to talk about it.”

“Do me a favor. You’ve been dining out on that one for years.” He’s not wrong, and I do talk about it all the time, but not in front of Andrew, not in front of a bloke I fancy.

“Did you?” Andrew’s looking at me in horror.

“Did I what?”

“Pee on someone?”

“No, I bloody did not. Jesus, Adam, you are unbelievable, you’ve got such a big mouth.”

“What did I do?” says Adam, feigning innocence.

Andrew laughs and I relax, because he’s not shocked, he thinks it’s funny, but I still have to stress I didn’t do it.

“I would like to clearly state, in company, that I have never, and I repeat, never peed on anything. Other than a toilet, but that’s not a person, it’s an inanimate object so it doesn’t count.”

Emma visibly perks up. “Sex already? Blimey, didn’t take long today.” Because sex, as I’ve probably already told you, forms a major part of our girls’ lunches, but admittedly, we don’t usually divulge as much when there are blokes around.

“It
would
take a long time if it were me,” says Andrew, deliberately picking up on the
double entendre
that Emma didn’t mean. “I believe in giving women pleasure, in making them wait. None of that in, out, shake it all about rubbish for me. If I’m making love to a woman, I expect her to cancel her arrangements for at least two days.”

“Ooh, two days?” I turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “There’s an offer that would be difficult to resist.”

Andrew leans toward me and whispers in my ear, “But a quickie can be just as fun. How do you fancy a quickie?”

I pull back and look him in the eye. “Don’t tempt me,” and I’m smiling, but Andrew’s very serious as he says slowly, “I’m not joking.” And I only bloody blush, don’t I? Don’t know where to look or what to say, and as I struggle to change the subject because yes, dear reader, I am embarrassed, Andrew sweeps back my hair and plants a soft kiss on the nape of my neck.

Fuck me, please. Fuck me. Jesus Christ, this man is so sexy, all I want to do is crawl under the table with him and fall into his arms. Pictures fill my head of the two of us together, what we’d do, how he’d slowly unbutton my shirt, kissing my lips, my face, my neck, my breasts.

I can almost feel him unzipping my trousers, move his hand slowly down, inside my Sloggis, except they wouldn’t be Sloggis, I’d buy La Perla for this bloke, and feel his thick fingers work their way up inside me.

I’m gazing into space by this time, eyes clouded over with lust, and I’m brought back to earth by a gentle touch on my hand.

“Hello? Tash? Come back to earth.” It’s Mel, and she’s laughing. She knows.

I’m dying to find out whether Andrew’s always like this, but I have to be careful with Adam. It’s not that I think he fancies me or anything, but friendship between men and women is a funny thing.

Did you ever see
When Harry Met Sally
? You must have done, everyone did, it’s my favorite film of all time. Remember that bit at the beginning, when Harry says men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way? What do you think, do you think that’s true?

When I got really close to Adam, I didn’t believe it, but I suppose all the friendships I’ve had with men have sprung out of an attraction, from either their part, or my part. And since I’ve never fancied Adam, I suppose, although I’ve never given it much thought, I suppose he might have been a little bit attracted to me. In the beginning. Not now though. We know each other too well.

So what I’ve decided is that the sex part doesn’t get in the way, but it’s always there, in the beginning. I mean, let’s face it, you don’t go out of your way to befriend the ugly bastards do you, not unless you happen to be an ugly bastard yourself.

People gravitate to other people who have a similar level of attractiveness. If you walk into a restaurant and see a very handsome guy with a group of people, you can practically guarantee that all his friends will be beautiful.

And although, perhaps with the exception of Simon who wasn’t exactly classically good-looking, although perhaps most of the men I’ve been out with have been handsome, I don’t really think I deserve them. I don’t really think I’m good enough for them, which is why I can’t believe Andrew fancies me. If he does. He probably doesn’t. He’s probably just a flirt.

“Is Andrew always like this?” I whisper to Adam when Andrew’s deep in conversation with Mel, arguing with her about the benefits of therapy. He, naturally, being a confident, tall, handsome bloke, has never needed therapy in his life. He’s so overconfident, so self-assured, you just know that he’s always been the golden boy, the apple of his parents’ eye, the most popular bloke at school, the heartbreaking shagger at university.

Adam rolls his eyes. “All the time, Tash. Drives me up the bloody wall. He can’t talk to a woman without flirting.”

My heart sinks but I continue pushing, I need to hear that I’m different, that he’s not just doing it for a game.

“But what does he do when he really fancies someone? How is he different?” I’m trying to sound as if I’m not really interested, but it obviously doesn’t work.

A smile spreads on Adam’s face. “Why, are you interested?”

“God no. You’ve got to be joking. He’s so in love with himself he’d never have time for anyone else. Nah, not my type at all.” Adam almost looks relieved, I suppose he wouldn’t want me to get hurt again, not after Simon.

“But he’s a nice guy,” I say, wanting to keep talking about Andrew. “I’m surprised, I didn’t think he was this nice.”

“Yeah, he is a nice guy, what did you expect from a friend of mine?” He’s smiling.

“What about Simon, then?” Adam still sees Simon, not as often as he used to, admittedly, although I don’t think that’s anything to do with me. I think time has just come between them, and their friendship is not what it was. That’s just a guess though, Adam never discusses him with me because Simon has nothing to do with my life anymore, and nothing to do with my relationship with Adam.

“Yeah, well, Simon. I know he was a shit to you, but we go back so long, he’s been a good friend to me.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I didn’t mean that.” I didn’t mean to bring Simon into the conversation, I try and forget about Simon, and most of the time I do fine, just fine. But that phone call threw me, it really did.

You gradually get over the pain. It doesn’t go away, not for a long time, but it becomes easier to live with. One morning you wake up and he’s not the first thing on your mind. And then a few months down the line you realize you’ve made it through half the day without thinking of him.

Sometimes it takes months, sometimes years, but eventually you reach a point when you only think about them occasionally. You manage to do this because you don’t see them, you don’t hear about them, you try not to think about them.

And then you bump into them walking down the street, or someone unexpected mentions their name, or the fuckers call in to your television program, and the memories come flooding back. But memories also become less painful in time, and I can talk about Simon now without really feeling anything. But I’d rather not. If you know what I mean.

The restaurant suddenly seems to get cold. I shiver, and Andrew looks at me with concern. “Are you cold, Tash?”

“Freezing,” I say, rubbing my arms to try and warm myself up. Andrew puts his big strong arm around me and rubs my shoulders and my back, and I lean into him, savoring the feeling, wanting to stay there forever.