If I Never Met You(79)

‘This is pure misogyny. Those tomatoes are highly relevant to his therapist’s notes, not yours.’

Emily nodded.

‘Then there’s the sex. What am I doing? The people I sleep with, we all have the same problem. The moment we find something is there for the taking, we don’t want it anymore. How fucked up is that?’

‘Is that what it is? You go off someone once they fancy you back?’

Emily nodded. ‘Kind of, yeah. I choose things that I know will short circuit. There must be some psychological blockage or self-loathing, else why do I hate myself so much to sleep with someone like him?’

They both glanced back at the tomato art.

‘You’ve had a scare,’ Laurie said, ‘But some of this is bad luck, playing the odds. Sooner or later you were going to encounter a nutter.’

‘Guess so. With my incredible numbers.’

‘I didn’t mean that!’

‘I know.’

‘Can I ask something? Do you think the thing with men is, you’re frightened of needing someone, of relying on them?’

Jamie had given her an insight.

‘Yeah, maybe?’ Emily said, pulling her hair off her face.

‘You always got the horror at your mum being so reliant.’

Emily had the most suburban, timid parents Laurie had ever met, and her mum used to have her housekeeping cash for the week put in a biscuit tin by her dad. In a way, no wonder Emily came blazing out of it like a comet. Her older sister had moved herself to Toronto, aged nineteen.

Emily sniffed. ‘I met a man through work recently and he asked me out and I said no, as I could tell he wanted a girlfriend. I liked him, but I thought, I’ll only mess it up. And: better I reject him and he carries on thinking I’m unattainable and great, than finds out the bitter truth. That’s wildly messed up, isn’t it?’

‘I think that’s something a lot of people do. What is the bitter truth?’

‘That I’m fake. That I’m dull. That sometimes, when I go to do a wee I do an unexpected fart instead that sounds like a bear complaining.’

Laurie rolled onto her side with the force of the laughter.

‘I’m serious!’ Emily said, through her own laughter. ‘If he gets to know me, he won’t love me.’

‘Or, he’ll love you even more?’

‘High stakes,’ Emily said.

‘That’s the deal, I think, with love,’ Laurie said. ‘But I got to know you, and only loved you more.’

‘Oh, you.’

They embraced.

‘Can I suggest something?’ Laurie said, ‘Can I suggest we spend a day in together, watching films, eating takeaway food, and completely erasing the lunatic tomato creep from memory?’

Emily nodded. ‘We could ask Nadia over, too.’

‘Yes!’

They put on music and Laurie made coffee and they did the kind of low key, chatting and pottering you could only really do with a very close, very long-term friend. Laurie felt there was a secret of how to live life buried in this unusual Sunday: they had turned a negative into a positive reason to spend time together, to remind themselves of how valuable they were to each other. Laurie had thought Dan was the source of the unconditional love in her life, but actually it was Emily: she wasn’t going to turn round and say sorry, she’d found a new Laurie.

It just happened. We shared Spotify playlists. She’s who I confide in now.

Nadia arrived half an hour later, in trademark hat. ‘Show me the crime scene,’ she said.

They pointed her to the counter.

‘Oh my God! Report him to the police, at once!’ Nadia bellowed.

‘What for, GROCERY REARRANGEMENT?!’ Emily shrieked.

When they’d finished laughing, Laurie said: ‘Did you get ’em?’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Nadia, disgorging three packets of cherry tomatoes from her backpack.

Laurie tore a packet open and started building an ‘R’.

‘What are you doing?’ Emily said.

‘I’m writing ROB HATES WOMEN in tomatoes, which you are then going to take a photo of, send to him, and block him before he can reply. Nadia, you work on “women”,’ Laurie said.

Laurie thought Emily might argue but she observed their quiet industry in awe.

‘This is …’ Emily teared up. ‘Everything.’





32


Dad

Darling just seen this, sorry to hear – his loss!! The wedding piss-up is at Cloud 23 a week this Friday, we’ve hired the place out so give them your name on the door. Bring a friend if you want. Can’t wait to see you! Nic’s gone completely fucking bridezilla by the way, she’s absolutely spanked the plastic. She’ll probably look like something out of the Moulin Rouge with fuckin’ ostrich feathers. So get your gladrags on. Love you darling. Austin. Xxx PS no gifts ta, we’re drowning in towels

A wedding reception, notice given, ‘a week Friday.’ On a Wednesday. So what, nine days? Her dad had outdone himself.

And Laurie wasn’t going to tell him that the way modern messaging services worked, ‘just seen this’ no longer cut it as a fob off. It had never cut it anyway. ‘His loss’ and a sad face emoticon, after eighteen years, wow.