Tell Me I'm Worthless(40)

Alice and Ila had wanted to come on the date. When she’d told them, playfully but firmly, to fuck off, they’d asked if they could at least be in the bar, maybe sat on the other side just to make sure she was safe.

“I’m an adult!” she’d said. “What on earth is your problem, god. I’ve gone on a hundred dates with boys before.”

Ila shrugged. “I just don’t trust men.”

“Alice fucks thousands of men!”

Alice looked offended. “Thousands? I think you’re probably overestimating a bit there.”

“You get what I mean.”

The maternalistic worrying had made Hannah feel worse than she expected. She’d stormed out, not looking at either of them, or caring enough to say goodbye. They were jealous. It was very clear. She didn’t know why, but they were always, always jealous, and that jealousy was projected onto her. She sometimes thought they resented her for not being into women, for being unable to fully form the third corner of their triangle, for throwing off the balance and rejecting their free love. But at the same time as these thoughts occurred, she worried that she was being homophobic, reading into things that were never there. The only thing she was sure of was that it hurt. And the thing that made it worse was that, if they had said nothing she would have been perfectly fine, but, thanks to their worrying, they had put the idea in her head that there really was something unsafe about the whole thing. It was just a simple, straightforward Tinder date with a guy she found attractive. But maybe they did know best, after all.

The bar was full and bright. It had signs in the women’s toilets telling her that if she felt uncomfortable, all she had to do was Ask for Angela at the bar and someone would get her some help. It was safe here. But, what, said her mind, if it wasn’t?

She finished the drink and ordered another. Her head was pressed against the window. The glass felt cold and refreshing, and as she looked out onto the street, she saw him. Her date. He walked past, not looking to his left, and then there he was again framed in the yellow light in the bar’s entrance, slowly pulling his scarf from around his neck. His eyes darted around the bar, looking for a face he recognised. He almost missed her, his eyes went right past her and then backtracked, settling, and the sides of them creased with a smile.

Brandon walked over to her table. Hannah thought he looked better than his profile had made him seem, which was often the case with men – men don’t know how to take pictures of themselves, or how to present themselves in a way that is attractive, making it hard to work out who is actually hot and who isn’t. But here he was, and it was certain that he was definitely hot. Brandon was tall and black and shockingly handsome. Her insides twitched as he edged between the tables towards her. She nearly forgot to stand up. She kissed his cheek. His skin was soft. At that moment she was already certain she wanted him inside her.

“So, Hannah, what do you study?” he asked.

Hannah was looking at him with wide-eyes, and realised that he had spoken, but she hadn’t been listening.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What did you say again?”





Alice didn’t like Brandon.

“But why?” demanded Hannah, as they sat around in front of their textbooks, trying, and failing, to do some kind of studying. It was the last term at university, the end of their three years as one cohesive trio. They all had futures to head to, postgraduate courses in other cities that, of course, they wouldn’t end up ever doing. But at the time, this was the thought: this is going to be our last summer together, and we are going to make it count.

“I just, I don’t know. He seems too good to be true, doesn’t he, Ila?” Alice was begging for some kind of back-up.

Ila shrugged. “I don’t like men,” was all she said, “and he’s a man.”





At the same bar where Hannah and Brandon had their first date, they were all getting drunk together to celebrate handing in their final pieces. Hannah technically had a week’s extension, but she wanted to be there, and Brandon was there, too. They could only get a table with four chairs because the whole place was packed, so Hannah sat on Brandon’s lap, feeling his warm arms loop around her front like a protective harness. Hannah wanted the tension gone. She wanted them to be friends, just for this summer, before the group dissolved and each of them went into the future. And they seemed to be getting on just fine. Even Ila, sceptical as she was of men, was enjoying herself, talking to Brandon about Audre Lorde. Hannah couldn’t follow the conversation, but she enjoyed sitting there anyway, hearing the discussion flow around her. Alice sat, quiet, next to Ila. She didn’t see anything at all.

When Hannah went home with Brandon that night, he asked the question she’d dreaded. What was Alice’s problem with him? Was she racist? Was she jealous? Or was it his fault, had he said something offensive without realising, and if so, was there anything he could do to apologise? Hannah appreciated the care and the concern, but she had to break it to him that the answer was, quite simply, she had no idea why Alice seemed to hate him, or why she had even come at all that night if she did.





Deep in the summer now. They were cuddling around a fire on the beach, sweating after the exertion of the Pride Parade, drinking endless, lethal amounts of Buckfast from a glass bottle. The fire they made on the stones was hypnotic. As Hannah lay there watching it, she felt herself drifting off to sleep. When she woke, she could feel something press against her. She stayed silent. The air was full of the sounds of hundreds of people just like them, calling out to the sea. The fire had gone low and was now only embers. Whatever it was that pressed against her back did so again, and she hurried a glance out of the corner of her eye. Ila was on top of Alice, out there for anyone to see, riding her. Ila threw her head back in rapture. Hannah screwed her eyes shut tightly and tried, as hard as she could, to go back to sleep.