Queenie(59)

Is that a joke? That tweed guy? The OkCupid boys who throw you about? The anal guy?



Darcy

I agree with Cassandra, actually. Look at the way you are with Chuck: he’s obsessed with you, wants to know how you are and actually listens when you answer, stares at you in meetings, hangs off of every word you say, makes you unlimited cups of tea (which he won’t do for anyone else), and you just look past him



Kyazike

What is a Chuck?



Darcy

He’s our intern



Kyazike

Oh, Chuck is someone’s NAME? Skeen



Cassandra

Why not open yourself up to the idea of engaging with men who are nice to you, Queenie? Not only ones who use you and make you feel terrible afterward. Do you even like the sex you have? Sorry to be so personal, but do you even orgasm?



Queenie

Well, no. But who does, when they’re being slapped and bitten and pulled around? Anyway, I like it



Cassandra

Sure you do.



Queenie

And Chuck doesn’t fancy me. Even if he did, he’s too nice for me. I don’t deserve it



Queenie

And CRUCIALLY, he almost got me fired



Darcy

Well, if we’re being honest, you almost got yourself fired



Darcy

@Kyazike, I know I should just go on Urban Dictionary, but for the sake of brevity, but what does “skeen” mean?



Kyazike

It means seen



Kyazike

Like, I see



Darcy

Right. I’m with you



Queenie

THANKS, ALL



On Friday, 18th January, Betts, Darcy <[email protected]> wrote at 16:28: Let’s talk about this properly tomorrow. Maybe you should go home early, I think you should probably have a bit of time for yourself? I’ll cover for you.

I am fine. Fine, I told myself on repeat as I packed my bag. I snuck back out of the office and saw Ted smoking on the wall opposite, his head bowed. My, at this point, inexplicable fondness for him made me walk over and hoist myself up on the wall next to him.

“Remember me?” I asked.

“Shit!” Ted grabbed his chest. “You scared me.”

“Overreaction,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“You know, I probably should have come to find you sooner,” Ted said, his mouth stretched in a grimace.

“Or replied to my many e-mails?”

“I’m sorry. But after we . . . I just. . . . It didn’t feel right.”

“Oh, cheers for that,” I said. “What’s wrong with me?”

“No, nothing, nothi—”

Ted stopped abruptly when we were joined by Gordon, his desk mate, who was still wearing clothes that were too tight for him.

“Have you got a lighter, Ted?” Gordon asked, shoving a hand in his jeans and pulling out a pack of cigarettes with great difficulty.

“Here ya go.” Ted handed it over.

“I keep meaning to ask,” began Gordon, who was obviously not going to acknowledge my presence, “where was it you went on your honeymoon, again? I’m thinking about somewhere nice and sunny to take the missus in a few weeks. Neither of us can bear the winter.”

I hopped off the wall and tried my hardest not to be sick all the way home.





chapter


EIGHTEEN


I STAYED IN bed tormented by nausea until I started to clean the house to try to take my mind off it all. When the dark thoughts were at their loudest, I went for a walk to clear my head, but took a wrong turn and ended up on the main road by the notoriously rowdy White Horse on Brixton Hill. I was seized by such sadness as I watched its revelers spilling out into the street, the noise of Friday night fun all too recognizable. I never had fun anymore. It was all just shit. I turned to walk back up the hill.

“Oh, look who it is!” I heard, and, though only marginally sure it was directed at me, turned around to see where it had come from.

“Long time. How are you?” Guy broke away from a group of boys, walked over to me, and put his pint on the ground. I seized up. “What are you up to, dressed like this?” He pulled at my paint-splattered cleaning clothes.

“Cleaning! I needed some air, all of that bleach, you know. Anyway, what are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms, at that point aggressively aware that I wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Pal of mine thought it would be a laugh to come here. I’ve heard some things, but I didn’t expect it to live up to them,” he said, trying his hardest to stare through my folded arms.

“Well, I should go! I should get back to it. Have a good time!” I nodded good-bye, my arms still strapped to my chest, and walked away.

THE CORGIS

Queenie

Ted is married



Darcy

WHAT?



Kyazike

Come again?



Queenie

Yep. His desk mate dropped it. Didn’t stay to find out the details



Kyazike

Give me his surname and I can get you his wife’s name, job, and Twitter handle in less than a minute. I can go DIY FBI on it