Exciting Times(10)

‘In other words,’ I said, ‘you think I haven’t any friends apart from you.’

‘You don’t need any.’

‘That sounds like the kind of thing a creepy possessive boyfriend would say.’

‘It’s just as well I’m none of those things, isn’t it?’

I wished then that I’d saved my remark for a face-to-face conversation. He sounded weak and studiedly impartial on the phone, like a doctor giving you a negative prognosis near the end of a shift where they’d already delivered lots of other bad news.

‘You say that a lot,’ I said. ‘“By the way, I’m still not your boyfriend,” like you think I need reminding. I’m not stupid.’ The statement that I wasn’t stupid, which I had intended as neutral information, sounded sharper than expected.

‘I’m aware you’re not stupid.’

‘So why do you keep saying it? I feel like you’re hiding something.’

I didn’t really. He’d been clear that he liked having me around but didn’t want anything serious. His honesty hurt my pride, so I told myself he was a liar. And I couldn’t even feel truly, sumptuously sorry for myself, because it wasn’t reciprocation I was craving. My desire was for Julian’s feelings to be stronger than mine. No one would sympathise with that. I wanted a power imbalance, and I wanted it to benefit me.

‘I don’t know why you think I lie about everything,’ he said.

‘Okay, you’re not a liar,’ I said. ‘Happy?’

‘Euphoric. Could you endorse me for that on LinkedIn?’

‘I’ll get one just to add you.’

‘I do see how living in my apartment might feel illicit until we’ve taken that step.’

I got out of bed and stood at the door to the balcony.

‘Why do you buy me things?’ I said.

‘Do you mind?’

‘No. But I’m curious.’

‘I mean,’ he said, ‘none of it costs very much.’

I decided he’d said that on purpose. It was less upsetting than thinking it was accidental.

‘If I’m such a scrounger,’ I said, ‘you know you can get rid of me.’

‘Could you rewind to where I called you a scrounger? I seem to have missed it.’

‘It’s the impression I get.’

‘I can’t be held responsible for every tin-hat notion you come up with.’

‘So I’m a crazy irrational woman.’

‘If you listen more carefully, Ava, you’ll notice I think you’re extremely sane. I assume there’s some purpose behind what you’re saying. I’m trying to unearth what it might be.’

‘You can’t be “extremely” sane. You’re sane or you’re not. Like how you can’t be “extremely” allowed to work in Hong Kong.’

‘As a white British banker, I think it’s fair to say I’m extremely allowed to work in Hong Kong.’

I laughed. I was always relieved when he said things like that about himself, like: good, so it mustn’t annoy him when I do it. People frequently said things about themselves they did not like others saying, but I was not always inclined to be good at men.

‘What are we like?’ I said.

‘I’m not used to dealing with people like you,’ he said.

Sometimes I was good at him, sometimes he was good at me, sometimes we were good at each other, and sometimes neither of us was any good at anything. The whole thing was so confusing that I wished one of us had all the power and I didn’t even care if it was him, though that clearly wasn’t true or I’d just let him win – at which point he’d lose interest and replace me with a model because they’re thinner or a dachshund because they shed less.

‘Are you a dog person?’ I said.

‘What? No.’

‘Me neither. I like a bit more of a challenge.’

We laughed at men who found such statements gratifying.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’d better go. I’ve a string of meetings tomorrow. But it was good catching up. Talk soon, babe.’

I liked that – babe. It made me feel accounted for.

*

I went with the other teachers to a bar in TST. We ordered drinks and variously reminded people we were seeing someone or advertised that we weren’t. Scott from Arkansas did both. I asked why he was claiming to be single when he’d mentioned his girlfriend three seconds ago, and he said he’d made her up because I intimidated him. I wondered if he would be a better or worse person without narcotics.

In the club down the road, Madison from Texas started dancing with me. We didn’t move much but she touched my hip. I remembered in college when a girl was off her face at Workmans and we shifted and a man in a polo shirt asked could he watch. You already are, I’d thought. Men were rarely true voyeurs. They wanted you to know they were there.

Madison said she envied me because I did the inscrutable thing without trying. Men liked that, she said. Madison always thought it would excite me to learn what men liked.

She stroked my arm when Scott from Arkansas approached. Scott said his flatmate was away. Madison said: ‘That’s interesting, Ava, isn’t it’. There was no limit to what Madison thought would interest me. I asked Scott if he meant his girlfriend was away and whether their arrangement was monogamous, and Madison looked at me like I was a child who’d asked their aunt about her divorce. Narcotics made Scott better, I decided, in that they kept him honest by hampering his ability to lie plausibly.