Queenie(98)

Darcy

I feel sorry for her, but imagine how bad Queenie would feel if the revelation sent his wife into premature labor?



Kyazike

Can you at least get him fired?



Queenie

But that would mean throwing myself under the bus with him



“Queenie.” My chair was turned around and I came eye-to-eye with Gina. “Eyes on the computer, not the phone,” she said, spinning my chair back around so that I was facing my screen. “Don’t let me down. Please.”

“Sorry, Gina, no, I’m not. I wouldn’t,” I whispered after her.

I did actual work for the rest of the day with only one very small break to set up a flat viewing, asking for one of the women estate agents to show me around this time and arranging to bring Kyazike with me. Is this what growing into an adult woman is—having to predict and accordingly arrange for the avoidance of sexual harassment?

I started to pack my bag at five, ready to meet Kyazike before the viewing as soon as it hit five-thirty. By now I was well versed in estate agents showing you the place with ten other people waiting to go in after you, and I was determined to get there first.

On my way back from the loo pre-leaving, I saw Ted lurking by the kitchen and sped up to get to my desk. By 5:31, I was in the lift. I walked out of the building and smack-bang into him, his eyes red-rimmed and his usually pristine every-strand-has-a-place hair a mess. He took a sharp drag of his cigarette and pulled it from his mouth. “Please, let me speak to you,” he said, his voice wavering. He snatched at my arm with a free hand.

“Fuck off,” I growled, trying to pull my arm out of his grip. He was stronger than he looked.

“Let me talk to you. I need to explain, please. I need to do this.”

“Exactly! You need to do this for you, it’s not about me,” I said, panic rising again. “It’s always about you. I’ve only ever been a need for you to fulfill, I realize that now. Please leave me alone. If you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream.”

“Sorry.” He let go of my arm. “Don’t you see, this is what you do to me!”

“No, it’s not me doing anything. It’s you, you get fixated on things and you’re consumed by the latest source of excitement until you get what you want from it, Ted.” I was so frustrated that I could have burst into tears on the spot. “Fuck off!”

“I need you to forgive me,” he pushed.

“What, why?” I shouted. I didn’t care who was looking.

“Can we go to our place, to the park?” he said.

“No, Ted, we can’t. If there’s something you need to say, please say it here and now, and then I’m going. I mean it.” I started my calming breathing.

“Fine,” he said, dropping his voice. “I’ve had two major breakups in my life, Queenie. And after each of them, I . . .” He paused for dramatic effect. “I tried to take my own life. Nobody knows this. Just my family, obviously, because they had to pick up the pieces, and . . . my wife.” He paused again. “I just—I couldn’t deal with the thought of being alone. So when my wife came along, well, before she was my wife, I knew that because she was older and wanted children soon, she wouldn’t leave me. So we got married. And everything since has all been so quick, and I should have thought about it, I know, but I didn’t, because I was just so relieved not to have to be alone anymore, but then I met you, and you turned my life upside down.” Another pause. “You said it yourself. You’re young, and you’re so appealing, with your beautiful big lips, that skin, and those curves.” He stopped talking to light another cigarette. “Do you have anything to say?” he asked after taking an aggressive drag. “Don’t you care about what I’ve just told you?”

“I don’t!” I said, though internally, obviously I did care about the suicide part. If it was true. Who knew anymore?

“I guess I deserve that,” Ted said, running his hands through his hair, his trademark move. “I should have told you about the bab—”

“For the hundredth time, you should have just left me alone!” I screamed. I was sure everyone in the square was looking over. “I hate you!” I screamed again. “You trying to kill yourself has nothing to do with me, everyone has problems, Ted, and it doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. Leave me alone!” I was shaking.

“You’re a prick.” Kyazike ran into my eye line and swung her Longchamp handbag into Ted’s face. When did she get here?

“Get the fuck away from her now,” she barked, swinging the bag again and catching him on the shoulder. He put his hands up to protect himself, his cigarette still lit.

“Guys like you make me fucking sick. You’re married, bruv, you’ve got a baby on the way, go home to your fucking wife. From when I was walking over, I could hear Queenie telling you to back off.” Kyazike stood firm and pulled her arm back, ready to strike again. “What’s wrong with you, bro?”

A guy who looked like Ted came running over to protect his fellow man. “Are you all right, mate? Do you need me to call the police?” he asked, making sure he kept well clear of a handbagging.

“Nah, bruv, the only police I’m calling is on this dickhead here. He’s harassing my friend,” Kyazike shouted. “From over there I could hear her asking to be left alone, and nobody wanted to help, but you want to come running when the man is being troubled? You’ve got it all wrong.”