Queenie(14)

“Queenie.” I peered into the darkness. Tom.

“This is where you are. It smells awful in here,” he said, before taking a deep breath. “Sorry I got angry earlier on.” I kept my mouth shut. “But you can’t keep doing this, Queenie,” he said, disappointed. “I know that in your family everyone is loud and you solve problems by shouting about them, but my family is different!” He looked at me as if searching for an apology. “This keeps happening, and I don’t know what to do, I can’t protect you when it’s my family you think you need protecting from.” Tom ran his hands through his hair dramatically, and I rolled my eyes. “You know what my uncle is like, he’s from a generation where they said the n-word quite a lot.” I looked at him and blinked slowly. By now he knew that this meant: “If you think I feel sorry for you, you’re wrong.” “Not that I’m excusing it,” he said quickly, “but come on, you can’t ruin my mum’s birthday because of it.”

Silence. “Here you go,” he conceded eventually, handing me my coat and rucksack. “All your stuff is in there.”

“Thanks.” I felt myself soften at this act of kindness. Plus, easy to forgive someone bringing you a coat when you’re freezing cold. “You didn’t need to do that,” I said quietly, reaching out for my things. I put my coat on and moved into Tom.

“No,” he said, stepping back.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Let’s forget it. I needed a bit of space, but I’ve calmed down now. I should apologize to your mum. I feel so bad, that cake was so nice, and the sentimental valu—”

“You should go home,” Tom said firmly, cutting me off mid-ramble. “You ruined my mum’s birthday, Queenie. She’s been wiping bits of cream off the walls since you slammed out. I don’t want any more drama.”

I felt the anger that had dissipated in the bus shelter rise again. “Me? Drama? Me?” I spluttered.

“You can get the bus from here to the station, the next train is in an hour,” Tom said, looking over my head. “I’m going to stay with my family for a few more days.”

“So I’m just meant to go back to the flat alone?” I asked. “You know I can’t sleep anywhere by myself!”

“It’s constant, with you. It’s too much,” Tom said, his voice cracking. “You’re too much, Queenie.”

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it again.

“Hope you get home okay,” he said, turning to walk away.

“Do you know what?” I shouted behind him. He stopped walking. “I hope your next girlfriend is white, Tom. That way she won’t be too fucking much for you.”

He stood still for a second before continuing on, disappearing into the darkness.

? ? ?

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” I said, slipping away from Rich and into James’s bedroom, where I sat on the bed to have a minute for myself.

I was about to leave when I heard footsteps outside the door. I went to it, opened it slightly, and saw Fran at the end of the corridor trying with clumsy hands to open the front door. James ran past me peeking out of his room and stopped next to her. “Fran, for fuck’s sake, stop running off!” he hissed. Were my drunk ears and eyes deceiving me? What could “couple goals” be arguing about?

“It’s okay, you go back in there and carry on chatting to her,” Fran shot back, her unnaturally high-pitched voice piercing the air. “Why did you invite her? Who invites their ex, the ex they know is still in love with them, to the fucking party they throw with their girlfriend?”

I knelt on the floor by the door and leaned against a pile of waxed jackets to get comfortable. It’s not often that you see the perfect pair disintegrate before your eyes.

“Oh, come on, she’s got a boyfriend, Fran,” I could hear James plead.

“Does she? Nobody has met him, James. And she can’t take her eyes off of you. And—and I know that you’ve been checking her Facebook, even though you hang out with her once every two weeks!” Somehow her voice was getting even higher.

“Just calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I can’t keep doing this, James. It’s not just you and Evie. It’s me working a full-time job and coming here to iron your shirts and cook your dinner and then you coming home late or not at all! Yet you still won’t let me move in! It’s the lads’ nights taking precedence over our nights, or your nights with Evie that you think I don’t know about. How could I not? She Instagrams every aspect of her day, and trust me, you get the most flattering filters! Three years we’ve been together, no sign of marriage, all signs of you wanting to have me around but not commit. I can’t do this.” She might take off at this point; she was doing a good job of sounding like she’d inhaled helium, at the very least.

“Oh, Fran, come on,” James snorted. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

I locked eyes with Fran as she suddenly came toward James’s room and pushed the bedroom door open.

“Sorry, I was just looking for my—” Fran stepped over me and I got up off my knees.

“I’m going home,” Fran squeaked. “Night, Queenie. Sorry about Tom, by the way.” She grabbed her bag from James’s desk and breezed past first me, then James, and slammed out the front door. I slipped past James as I walked back into the living room.