Queenie(38)

Unknown

Saturday



Queenie

Which Saturday? Could you remind me of the date?



Unknown

Christ alive, girl, how many boys have you had in your bed? It’s Guy



Queenie

Oh! Guy! Sorry, yes, we did have fun, sure



Guy

I’m hankering after your arse again. There’s a lot I wanted to do to you



Queenie

Oh well, that’s sweet. How’s work and everything?



Guy

If I wanted to talk about work I would have sent a text to my mum. When are you free?



Queenie

For?



Guy

I want to come round, obviously. Give you a second dose



“Hello, Queenie, sorry to have kept you waiting. I’m Elspeth, a health advisor here at the clinic. How are you?” A slim, pale woman with almost-white blue eyes and gray hair chopped into a harsh bowl cut sat opposite me.

I put my phone away as she started tapping into the computer on her desk. I didn’t want this woman to advise me; she looked like she was going to tell me off, like she’d heard it all in the sixties and was tired of it.

“Um. I’m fine?” I seemed to ask her. “They told me to come back?”

Elspeth’s lips tightened. “It doesn’t look like you’re fine.” What was on that computer? “I’m reading over your notes.” She clicked the mouse a few times and leaned toward the screen. “The last time you came in here, you had vaginal bruising, some anal tearing, and bruises on your bottom and thighs, which meant that you weren’t able to have a full examination.”

“Ah, but at least I had my pride,” I said, looking down at my shoes.

“I also see here that you haven’t been using protection, and have been sleeping with multiple partners,” she said, still looking at the screen. “Is there a bit more to the story here?”

“Nope.”

“You know, we don’t offer counseling here, but we can refer you to the right service.” Tapping again. Why wouldn’t she look at me? “If you’re in an abusive relationship, if somebody is forcing you to sell your body for sex, then—”

“Your colleague implied this two weeks ago, and I found it very offensive,” I said, finally finding my voice. “This is ridiculous. I had some sex with a guy who just got a bit carried away, that’s all.”

“Was the sex consensual?”

“Yes, it was! My God, listen to me! If I were in danger I would say!” I squawked angrily, then grumbled, “You’re all so judgmental.”

“Well, I’ve got to do my job, Queenie,” Elspeth clucked at me. “Besides, your ethnic group puts you at a higher risk of being in an abusive relationship. No need to be so shrill. I’ll update the file.” Tap tap tap. “And a word of warning,” Elspeth said. “Being on the IUD actually makes you more likely to contract a sexually transmitted infection. Use protection if you’re going to have such varied and frequent sex.”

“Is any of that science?” I asked her, putting on my coat.

“Yes. Go down the corridor to room three. A nurse is waiting to examine you.”



* * *



The test was okay, but still suitably uncomfortable. I made my way to lunch with Cassandra afterward. I was fine; I didn’t know why all of these nurses were so worried, and so rude. Elspeth could try to be a little more approachable, maybe that way she wouldn’t need to basically waterboard information out of me.

I squeezed my way into the crowded café, pirouetting clumsily between strollers and trying not to sweep babycinos off tables with my coat. I spotted Cassandra in the corner.

“Hello, sorry I’m late!” I said, trying to remove my scarf as it got tangled in my twists. Eventually, having made it worse, I gave up and sat opposite her, half of my face covered by fabric.

“What’s new?” she said, pouring me a glass of water. “Still making your way through all of the men on OkCupid?”

“What?” I spluttered.

“I’m only teasing, don’t take it personally!” Cassandra laughed. “Casual sex is a perfectly normal coping mechanism.”

“. . . Everything is fine,” I said, forcing a smile.

“So. I think I’ve met someone?” she said, smirking as she took a delicate sip of her coffee. It was these almost imperceptible actions of hers—the smirking, the faux coyness—that made me cringe and also question our friendship. But, if I was anything, I was loyal. And she couldn’t help but be low-key the worst, I reminded myself regularly.

“Who?” I said, taking a giant gulp of water. It’s never great, losing a fellow single friend to a relationship; but given that Cassandra spends most of the time we’re together either judging or psychoanalyzing me, her locking herself away with a boyfriend was no bad thing. I fiddled with my scarf as she told me about this amazing new boy she’d met at the Design Museum. “As I was looking at this installation on colored wool, he sidled up next to me. I thought I was in the way so moved aside, but he moved closer and told me that I was more interesting than anything he’d seen that day.” Joy shone out of her, and a pang of jealousy spiked through me. “So we just left the museum, went for a coffee and spoke so much that coffee turned into dinner, then dinner turned into him walking me home.” I was wide-eyed with wonder. I thought that being walked home only happened in films.