Queenie(104)

“Yes, Queenie, that sounds incredibly stupid,” Darcy said, cutting me off. “After everything that’s happened this year, that is honestly the maddest thing I have ever heard. Take a few deep breaths, have a think about why it’s the maddest thing I’ve ever heard, and when you’ve finished, come back out to the restaurant. We, all of the people who love you, who have been there for you, will be behind that door.”

“Firm words. Are you channeling Cassandra?” I asked her as she left the bathroom.

“I’m not a therapist.” Cassandra turned back to look at me. “Nor do I need to train to be one to tell you that you love what Tom represented more than you love him. We both know that he’s incredibly basic.”



* * *



“Okay,” I said aloud to myself, after I’d checked that there wasn’t anyone in either of the toilet stalls. “Even though things aren’t tiptop, they are definitely better, and here’s why.” I stared at my reflection.

“One. In a shock twist, Gina told you that after your ‘surprisingly great’ gig review, the Daily Read is going to give you a regular music writing slot. Scary, yes, and not quite as political as you wanted, but you can get there. So you’re doing great things at work, even though you were almost fired for sexual assault earlier in the year. Talk about a comeback! Two. Ted’s been fired for misconduct and lying by omission and you never have to see him again. Three. You’ve deleted those bleak-as-fuck dating apps that only really served to make you forget that beneath the big boobs and bum you are a human person who is easily damaged. Plus, now you don’t want to look at men, never mind have sex with them.” I tensed up as the men of the last year flashed before my eyes. Mouths and hands biting and pulling and smacking and scratching and— I took some deep breaths to stop myself from getting all het up again. Darcy might be right, but I still missed Tom. I missed him a lot. Maybe if I apologized to him again, with a bit more space between us, maybe he’d soften? I should have been able to tell him what I was going through. I won’t make that mistake again, I promised myself, if someone—nonmarried (times two), not sexually aggressive or with a girlfriend, not manipulative or a secret neo-Nazi—ever wanted to be with me. I took some more deep breaths. I was feeling better. “Four. As for the anxiety, and the head feeling weird and then the stomach following, even if you do go back to how things were, you made it out before, you’ll make it out again. You have tools to cope this time, and even though deep breathing and safe spaces don’t sound like they’ll help, they do. Five, the night terrors have eased off. Maybe not forever, but at least you haven’t punched your grandmother in the night or fallen out of bed for a significant amount of time. Six, when you go back into that restaurant, look. Look at all of those people who love you. You are worthy of love, and they prove that. They’ll always be there for you, like they have been when you needed it most.” I paused. “Possibly not Cassandra, she is definitely a variable. And . . . seven. As for Tom,” I said, pulling my phone back out, “you know what you need to do.” I unlocked it and looked at Tom’s contact page again. Something shifted. His picture was the one I’d taken on our one-year anniversary, on Clapham Common where we first met, just after he promised that whatever happened between us, he’d never abandon me. “Time to move on.” I accepted.



* * *



Delete.



* * *



I walked back into the restaurant, and with the heat that hit me, a different type of warmth filled my chest. I sat down at the table and looked around at my family: Kyazike was showing Diana a video on her phone that taught her how to blend her makeup. My grandmother was very loudly listing to Dr. Manager all of the medication she was on while my granddad eyed up the sparkling drink, ready to risk it all again. Maggie was talking loudly, obviously, and slicing up her pizza, putting bits on my mum’s plate for her to taste. Cassandra and Darcy were locked in an intense conversation that I had no plans to get involved in; Cassandra was clearly being made to feel very bad. I looked over at my mum as she picked up a slice of pizza with her hands and bit off a huge mouthful. She threw her head back, laughing so hard at something Maggie said to her that she put the pizza down and slapped her thighs with both hands. I stood up to pour myself a glass of water, and we looked at each other as she turned in my direction. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. “My queen,” she mouthed, lifting her glass.





acknowledgments


TO THE MAIN MATRIARCH, my nan Elaine, thank you for loving me more than you love anyone else (and admitting to the favoritism), and for being my #1. Thanks to my mum Yvonne, and my sister Esther. Gang gang gang. The two funniest people in my life, you’ve not just always managed to make me laugh, but also to navigate my moods. Well done both.

To my Ugandan sister Isabel Mulinde, forever in my heart and forever making me laugh. There is nobody like you on this earth. To Claude Hylton, the brother I picked up aged six and stuck to, thank you. To Selena Carty and the rest of my siblings (seven and counting), we don’t talk but I know you’re out there, and that’s enough. Aunty Su, Aunty Dor, and the rest of the Forrester/Browns, love to you all.

To my godmother Heidi Safia Mirza, I simply wouldn’t be who I am without your unrivaled love, guidance, kindness, and uniquely undefeatable approach to life.