The Friends We Keep(27)
“I’ll do my best,” laughed Evvie. “Although I’m pretty sure everyone decent has gone. Maybe I could have a fling with the local milkman.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Maggie said, before turning serious. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too.”
“Have an adventure this week and tell me everything. I’ll be lying around reading and waiting to live vicariously through you. I seriously am going to call you every day, and I expect exciting updates. What’s the number of the hotel?” She rolled over and looked at the phone on the bedside table. “I’ll write it down. Don’t forget to have fun. Oh shit.” Maggie looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run.”
Evvie walked her downstairs, where they hugged tightly, both of them laughing as they wiped away tears, unable to believe their three perfect years had come to an end. Then Maggie left and Evvie walked back up to her room, suddenly feeling very alone.
Without Maggie, the suite felt lonely and a little overwhelming. Evvie sat for a while looking out the window, with no idea what to do for the rest of the day, let alone the rest of the week.
Eventually she switched on the television and flicked around, watching the daytime talk shows. She wasn’t used to being on her own, could barely remember the last time she had been. Of course there had been times when Maggie and Topher were out and she was the only one in the house, but it was never for long, and there was usually studying to be done, or some other distraction. She knew she would never be by herself for long, but suddenly a week felt like an eternity.
The daytime shows led to old black-and-white films in the afternoon, with Evvie eventually falling asleep. She woke up in the evening, disoriented, not knowing where she was, or whether it was morning or night. Realizing it was night, and grateful that at least she managed to kill day one, she had no idea what to do for the rest of it, knowing only that she had to get out of this room that was rapidly feeling more like a prison.
Evvie had never thought of herself as someone who was not good at being alone, but it struck her that perhaps she was more of an extrovert than she realized, needing other people to energize her. But what kind of self-sufficient feminist could she possibly be if she wasn’t good at being alone? How would she be able to fulfill her dreams of traveling in the third world, helping women and children with education and health, if she couldn’t manage one week in a luxury hotel without a social life?
She could do this. She would have a great week, even if she had no idea what to do. She got up and opened all the cupboards in the room without thinking, before stumbling upon the minibar, the lower shelves filled with tiny bottles of alcohol, the upper one with giant Toblerones.
Toblerones. She stared at them, remembering the feel of milky chocolate melting on her tongue. She hadn’t had chocolate in so long, hadn’t turned to food for comfort for so long, barely at all since Dexatrim took her appetite away. She closed the minibar and walked to the bathroom, but she couldn’t stop thinking about chocolate, and how it would make her feel better.
Except it wouldn’t make her feel better. It would make her feel . . . nothing. That’s why Evvie had always eaten, because it numbed her feelings, and it was much easier to feel nothing than it was to feel fear, or anger, or loneliness. But the numbing never lasted. Afterward, she would be plagued by guilt and shame, but she never thought about that when food was calling, as it was then; never remembered how awful she would feel until it was too late.
If she ate it now, and had one lost evening, she could start again tomorrow morning. Plus, there was always the option of vomiting. It wasn’t something she did all the time, but a useful secret weapon when her willpower was nowhere to be found.
Don’t do it, she told herself, shutting the door, picturing her future, photo shoots, the other models living in the apartment, all of them happily existing on Diet Cokes and Marlboro Lights. It wouldn’t be worth it, she thought as the image of Toblerones lodged itself into her brain. “Distract yourself,” she said out loud.
Heading to the bathroom, she poured the entire bottle of bubble bath into the Jacuzzi and turned on the jets. By the time the bath was full, the bubbles were well above the rim of the bathtub. Compared to the pathetic shower she had had to endure the last three years—more of a dripping hose than a shower—sinking into a mountain of bubbles felt like the height of luxury. She lay there for just under an hour, adding more hot water whenever it got cold, amazed that there was still hot water after forty-five minutes. In the house there was never enough hot water for one person, let alone three.
Afterward, Evvie wrapped herself in a giant fluffy robe, played with her hair in the mirror, and wondered how she was supposed to kill the rest of the night. There were inevitably a few students left, the ones who had got summer jobs, who didn’t have families to return to, but Evvie didn’t know anyone who was still in town.
She would go for a walk, she decided. Maybe even a run, though she had always claimed an allergy to exercise. Afterward she might grab a drink at the King’s Head, see if she knew anyone there. Maybe they could do with some help. Hell, at this point, working in a pub for a few days seemed a far better option than watching television in a four-poster bed. Pulling on some leggings and a T-shirt, she clipped her hair back in a ponytail and headed out the door.
The town without its students was like a ghost town. Evvie had never realized before that half the shops closed down for the summer or were open on limited hours. With no one around to buy patchouli oil, tie-dyed dresses, and handmade wind catchers, there was little point in remaining open.