Normal People(40)

Well, you don’t hate me, she says.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Then he says: No, I’m immune to you, in a way. Because I knew you in school.

When I was an ugly loser, says Marianne.

No, you were never ugly.

She puts the kettle back down. She feels a certain power over him, a dangerous power.

Do you still think I’m pretty? she says.

He looks at her, probably knowing what she’s doing, and then looks at his own hands, as if reminding himself of his physical stature in the room.

You’re in a good mood, he says. Must have been a good party.

She ignores this. Fuck you, she thinks, but she doesn’t mean it. She dumps the teabags in the sink with a spoon, then uses the milk and replaces it in the fridge, all with the rapid movements of someone dealing impatiently with a drunk friend.

I’d rather literally anyone else, says Connell. I’d rather the guy who mugged me was your boyfriend.

What do you care?

He says nothing. She thinks of the way she treated Jamie before he left, and rubs her face with her hands. Some milk-drinking culchie, Jamie called Connell once. It’s true, she has seen Connell drink milk directly from the carton. He plays video games with aliens in them, he has opinions about football managers. He’s wholesome like a big baby tooth. Probably never in his life has he thought about inflicting pain on someone for sexual purposes. He’s a good person, he’s a nice friend. So why does she go after him like this all the time, pressing him for something? Does she have to be her old desperate self around him always?

Do you love him? says Connell.

Her hand pauses on the door of the fridge.

Unlike you to take an interest in my feelings, Connell, she says. I kind of thought that stuff was off-limits for us, I have to say.

Alright. Okay.

He rubs at his mouth again, looking distracted now. Then he drops his hand and looks out the kitchen window.

Look, he says, I probably should have told you before, but I’ve been seeing someone. I’ve been with her for a while, I should have mentioned it to you.

Marianne is so shocked by this news that it feels physical. She looks at him, plainly, unable to disguise her astonishment. In the time they’ve been friends he has never had a girlfriend. She’s never even given much thought to the idea that he might want one.

What? she says. How long have you been together?

About six weeks. Helen Brophy, I don’t know would you know her. She studies Medicine.

Marianne turns her back on him and takes her cup from the counter. She tries to hold her shoulders very still, frightened that she’ll cry and he’ll see her.

Why are you trying to get me to break up with Jamie, then? she says.

I’m not, I’m not. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.

Because you’re such a good friend, is it?

Well, yeah, he says. I mean, I don’t know.

The cup in Marianne’s hands is too hot to hold, but instead of placing it down again she just lets the pain seep into her fingers, down into her flesh.

Are you in love with her? she says.

Yeah. I do love her, yeah.

Now Marianne starts crying, the most embarrassing thing that has happened to her in her entire adult life. Her back is turned but she feels her shoulders jerk upwards in a horrible involuntary spasm.

Jesus, says Connell. Marianne.

Fuck off.

Connell touches her back and she jolts away from him, like he’s trying to hurt her. She puts the cup down on the counter to wipe her face roughly with her sleeve.

Just go away, she says. Leave me alone.

Marianne, don’t. I feel awful, okay? I should have told you before, I’m sorry.

I don’t want to talk to you. Just leave.

For a while nothing happens. She chews on the inside of her cheek until the pain begins to settle her nerves and she’s not crying anymore. She dries her face again, with her hands this time, and turns around.

Please, she says. Please just go.

He sighs, he’s looking at the floor. He rubs his eyes.

Yeah, he says. Look, I’m really sorry to ask, but I do kind of need that money to get home. Sorry.

She remembers then and feels bad. In fact she smiles at him, that’s how bad she feels. Oh god, she says. In the excitement there I forgot you actually got assaulted. Can I give you two fifties, is that okay? He nods, but he’s not looking at her. She knows that he feels bad; she wants to be a grown-up about things. She finds her purse and hands him the money, which he puts in his pocket. He looks down, blinking and clearing his throat, like he’s going to cry too. I’m sorry, he says.

It’s nothing, she says. Don’t worry about it.

He rubs at his nose and looks around the room like he’s never going to see it again.

You know, I didn’t really know what was going on with us last summer, he says. Like, when I had to move home and that. I kind of thought maybe you would let me stay here or something. I don’t really know what happened with us in the end.

She feels a sharp pain in her chest and her hand flies to her throat, clutching at nothing.

You told me you wanted us to see other people, she says. I had no idea you wanted to stay here. I thought you were breaking up with me.

He rubs his palm flat against his mouth for a second, and then breathes out.

You didn’t say anything about wanting to stay here, she adds. You would have been welcome, obviously. You always were.