Our Stop(32)

‘What did she look like?’ Emma asked, intrigued.

‘Question vetoed,’ said Gaby, giving her daggers. ‘It literally doesn’t matter. He’ll do the same to her.’ Gaby had known something was off with Awful Ben almost immediately after Nadia had started going out with him; she and Nadia had had their only fight over it and after they’d made up Gaby knew she had to let her friend make her own mistakes. ‘It happens to a lot of women at some point.’

The tea arrived, and the women fell silent as the waitress unloaded her tray and told them dessert would be right with them.

‘You don’t have to be okay, you know,’ Gaby said, once she’d gone. ‘I’d want to cry and scream too.’

Nadia nodded. ‘I hate that you don’t get over someone like, once. You have to do it again and again and again, every time you think of them.’

‘You’ve been doing really well,’ Emma offered. ‘You’ve been lighter, happier. More positive. You’ve been in The New Routine to Change Your Life!’

‘And now I’m taking a huge leap back,’ Nadia said, miserably. ‘I’m so mad that he can control me! Still!’ She burst into tears again.

‘It’s not a leap back, not at all.’ Emma soothed her. ‘Babe – healing isn’t linear. And look how far you’ve come. You were able to process all that craziness that happened, and then tell us and process it again, and seeing him – it’s another way to process it. Because it was real. What he did to you, how awful he was – it was all real. I promise you: none of us is fucking up like we think we are.’

Nadia welled up again, and nodded. It was all she could do, nod, like an external manifestation of the internal realization that yup, he really had stolen not just the six months of her life that they’d dated, but the six months afterwards too, which she’d needed just to make sense of how she’d let it happen. How she’d become his victim. She was a strong, positive, go-getting woman and it shamed her deeply that she’d let a man put out her flame.

‘Stop it,’ said Emma. ‘I can see you beating yourself up again. None of this is your fault. It’s all him. You are a survivor, and he can’t hurt you anymore, okay? You control this ship.’

The dessert arrived, with three forks, and the women picked the edges off the brownie.

‘I’m going to order the cheesecake too,’ said Nadia, sadly.

Emma winked at her. ‘Good idea.’ And then, ‘Darling, you know what? Why don’t the two of us go on an adventure this weekend? We could go to Soho Farmhouse. Sleep in a massive bed. See some celebs. Row a boat on that tiny pond. Let’s get out of London, shall we?’

Nadia thought about it as she stirred in the honey to her tea. It sounded good to be anywhere but here. To be somebody else, somewhere else.

‘Would I have to talk to anyone except you?’

‘Nope.’

‘Would I have to do things to be a fun friend or can I wallow and feel bruised and sad?’

‘You can feel bruised and sad.’

‘Okay. Yes. I’d like that.’

Emma put her arm around her friend. ‘I’d like that too.’

Gaby held up her hands. ‘Thanks for the invite, guys!’

Emma didn’t miss a beat. ‘You’re at your mum’s this weekend!’

‘I know, but you could still have asked me.’

Nadia said, ‘You’re at Marie-Jean’s this weekend? That’s nice. Tell her I say hi.’

Gaby said, ‘I will do. I’m jealous of your plans now, though.’

‘The perks of survival,’ said Nadia. ‘When you cry, your friends whisk you away.’

‘Only if you have good friends.’

‘Yeah. God, can I date you instead?’

Emma laughed. ‘Join the queue,’ she said.

‘Wouldn’t it just be so much easier?’ Nadia leaned in for the last part of the brownie. ‘You guys don’t get upset at who earns more money or feel emasculated if somebody else picks up the bill. You don’t have to wait a beat too long to text back because it’s not masculine to be too eager, and god, can you imagine fucking a woman? Like, worshipping a vagina instead of thinking it is vaguely gross and something to be embarrassed about? That’s the thing I envy about lesbians: everybody is invested in how great the pussy is. I’ve been with too many guys who sort of tolerate it, because it’s the thing that they get to dip into. But they don’t truly love it, or understand it. Imagine dating somebody who actually understands how periods work, instead of having a vague knowledge that it means mood swings and blood? I just think that would be beautiful.’

‘I agree,’ said Gaby, her attention turning to the waitress. ‘Can we get the cheesecake too, please?’ she smiled at her.

The waitress nodded.

Emma said: ‘Me too. Like, I wonder what it would be like not to have to perform womanhood, as well.’

‘Like being genderqueer?’ Nadia said.

‘Yeah!’ said Emma. ‘I guess. The boxes of “male” and “female” are so narrow: if you’re a bloke, it’s best to behave this way and if you’re a chick, it’s best to behave this other way. What if there was no such thing as man and woman?’