Putting Alice Back Together (7 page)

Nine

I hated my own company.

That’s not what I said to Big Tits because I knew it wasn’t how I was supposed to be. I knew, because I’d read all the self-help books. I was supposed to have inner reserves, to be able to spend a thoughtful evening alone, lighting candles and playing music that meant something to me, as I spoiled myself by soaking in an aromatic bath with a deep and moving book. But the simple fact was, I hated being by myself.

Hated bouncing questions I already knew the answers to.

Hated watching a film when there was no one to pass the tissues to and share the ending.

And where was the fun in candles and soft music and bubble baths when you were alone?

Anyway, the flat didn’t have a bath.

Roz had taken her weary liver out on her date and Dan hadn’t returned my phone calls all day. By evening I resorted to texting him saying I was
really
worried about
work and needed his advice and he eventually texted back and said he’d come over.

You see, Dan’s a careers counsellor: he goes around schools telling sixteen-year-olds they can be whatever they want to be and he takes it all very,
very
seriously, so I knew if I dangled that little carrot, he’d bite quickly. That he might manage to tear himself away from Matthew for five minutes.

Yes, Matthew.

Sorry to disappoint you—believe me I felt the same when I found out too.

Worse!

Dan, you see, was possibly the love of my life.

Lisa, I’m sure, if she knew about Dan and me, would say that I was comfortable with Dan
because
he was gay, that because there was no sexual tension I was able to be myself and to relax with him.

Bullshit
.

I loved him long before I knew he was gay.

I wasted months, wondering what the hell I was doing wrong.

You just wouldn’t spot it—okay, the fitted shirt, the Pilates and, I guess, the fact that he exfoliates might have been missed clues—but loads of guys look after themselves now.

His friend Michelle was my flatmate at the time—they weren’t going out or anything—and Dan used to come around and I’d pull out all the stops.

Then he became more regular at the flat and I stopped pulling out all the stops and he still liked me. I could answer the door in baggy pyjamas, still orange from a new spray tan and walking with my toenails splayed
with cotton wool because I was painting them, and he still liked me.

Then I got drunk and slept with some football player to make him jealous. Well, suffice to say it ended in tears—with a blotchy face and a rather fat lip (the football player
did
have anger issues). Dan was the one who held the ice pack.

Dan was appalled when I confessed that I’d done it to make him notice me.

And then he’d told me the truth.

And he also told me just how much he hated the truth.

That he’d rather slash his abdomen and dissect his own intestines than fess up and tell the world that he was gay.

At first it had been a whoosh of relief—so
that
was why he didn’t fancy me.

Then I had decided that, if I tried harder, one day he might—he had assured me he wouldn’t.

He wasn’t bisexual; he said it as a warning.

He was gay.

So I got angry…

And we fell out, but we missed each other and made it up, though we hadn’t yet come full circle. There was still this… this… bitterness there on my part.

I mean, how unlucky was I, that the perfect guy for me, the one guy who actually loves me, just wasn’t technically wired that way?

I hated all the crap about ‘Oh, I’m not homophobic—my best friend’s gay’.

I actually HATED it that he was gay.

I cried at every episode of
Will and Grace
.

I hated it that I would love the smell of him coming
out of the shower for ever, that he could make me laugh with just a twitch of his lips, that he’s just the most amazing guy in the whole wide world, that he can pull me in his arms and make me feel safe—and that, faults and all, somehow he loves me and yet somehow he can’t.

He loves me.

Just not in that way.

However, Dan had been a bit off recently. Every time I rang he was always just on his way out, and call me paranoid if you must, but whenever I got the answering-machine I swear he was home, hovering over the receiver and not picking it up because it was me. It wasn’t fair. We’d been through everything together. When he was in the closet, he’d been only too happy to drag me to every family function imaginable and pass me off as his girlfriend and then, when he was coming out, night after night had been spent metaphorically holding his hand as he worked up the courage to tell his family and friends. And once out! Oh, yes, he’s Mr Bloody Sensible now, but he was wild for a while there, dragging me along to gay bars where I’d sit and pretend not to notice how long it took him to go to the men’s room.

Now, though, when
I
needed him, he was too busy being happy with Matthew.

I was making lime margaritas—there was a mountain of limes that I was juicing and I had all the ingredients lined up to whizz in the blender but Dan filled the kettle.

‘I’m not drinking,’ he said, which meant that he wouldn’t be staying.

‘I got a couple of movies, though.’ More and more it was getting like this with Dan. Since he had started going out with Matthew I was slotted in, like a dental
appointment or a quick dash to the shops on a lunch break. ‘Stay the night, Dan, you haven’t for ages.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Okay.’ I knew not to push it. ‘At least stay for a while, have a drink…’

‘Actually, no.’ He looked uncomfortable, six feet two and in his suit he looked bloody gorgeous but, actually, nervous. ‘You and I…’ he gave a tight smile ‘… well, it’s causing a few problems with Matthew.’

‘What?’ I was about to turn on the blender, but instead I laughed. ‘How, for God’s sake? We’ve established you don’t fancy me. Can never fancy me… Surely to God you’re allowed friends.’

‘Of course I am…’ He was working his way up to telling me something and suddenly I didn’t want to hear it, so I turned the blender on instead, but you can only blend a margarita for so long and after a moment or two I had no choice but to stop. I could feel his chocolate-brown eyes on me, but I didn’t turn and look at them, instead focusing a great deal of attention on salting two glasses as he spoke to my back.

‘Every time I come here I get smashed and end up staying.’

I had the salt in lovely perfect lines, the glasses were icy cold from the fridge, and I slowly poured two drinks before I answered.

‘Don’t get smashed, then.’ Now I did turn and look at him, angry, because how the hell was it my fault? Since when did his boyfriend decide it was up to me to police him? ‘I’m hardly pouring drinks down your throat and tying you to the bed, Dan.’

‘I know that.’

‘If you don’t want to be here, don’t use Matthew as an excuse.’ He closed his eyes and I could hear him drag in a deep breath.

‘I do want to be here.’

‘Then tell Matthew that.’ I was near tears, I was so angry I felt like crying—bloody Matthew was so jealous he hated Dan out of his sight for anything more than five minutes. Every time we went out he texted about a gazillion times and if Dan did have the guts to stay over, his phone would start bleeping at the crack of dawn.

‘I have told him,’ Dan said. ‘I’m here, aren’t I? It’s just…’ His voice trailed off and then, because he knows me, because he knew that even if I wasn’t boohooing, even if there were no tears, I was actually crying. We had promised,
promised
that no relationship would ever come between our friendship, and now it seemed one was.

Dan gives the nicest cuddles.

I stood in the kitchen and I just leant on him, I smelt him and it was the nicest place in the world to be and I didn’t want to let him go, I didn’t want him going back to Matthew, but I knew if I stamped my foot too hard, then it would be a long time till I saw him again. That Matthew would up the bloody curfew, so I trod carefully.

‘Make me a coffee, then,’ I said to his chest.

‘Serious?’

‘Sure.’ I felt him smile, felt him relax as I made it easier for him. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to ring Mum tonight and sometimes she talks for hours.’ He kissed the top of my head and then he loosened his arms and smiled down at me and I smiled back.

Dan, the only guy on this planet I can look straight in the eye.

‘I love you, Alice.’

‘I know.’

‘I am here for you.’

‘I know.’ Yeah, take that, Matthew, I thought, you can bitch and moan and whine, but you’ll never break up our friendship.

‘One won’t kill, I guess…’ He picked up the margarita and rolled his eyes in bliss as he took a sip.

‘You’ll get me in trouble with Matthew,’ I warned.

‘We just won’t tell him.’

I felt a rush of relief as he came back to me, a whoosh of euphoria as whatever crisis had loomed was somehow averted.

Dan was back and together we always had a ball.

We just didn’t that night.

He asked about my work, but I didn’t want to just talk about that. ‘I’m worried about Roz,’ I said, hoping that would get him going. He loved a gossip, but Dan rolled his eyes.

‘I really think she’s depressed.’

‘I’d be depressed if I looked like that,’ Dan said. ‘No wonder her husband left—you’d slash yourself if you had to wake up to that face every morning.’

‘But he didn’t leave her.’ I frowned as much as my Botoxed forehead would allow. ‘It was the other way around—Roz left him. Though God knows why, he was gorgeous.
Gorgeous
,’ I added for effect, and Dan shot me a look of disbelief. ‘She says they married way too young and that she felt stifled, that she needed to
find
herself.’

‘Find a bigger McDonald’s outlet more like.’ Dan pursed his lips and then he glanced at his watch and I felt a flutter of panic, so I quickly changed the subject to Dan’s favourite.

Me!

That was a joke.

My career, or lack of it.

I hated my job. I knew,
I knew
, in these times it was good to
have
a job—but, frankly, I didn’t know if I would for much longer. I did the website as well sometimes, thanks to Dan pushing me to do a course, but mainly I sat with headphones on, typing up birth, marriage and death notices, announcements, stuff for sale, jobs, that sort of thing. We used to do more dating ads, that was fun, but everything was moving to the internet, not just dating—and what with eBay (love it, love it), I couldn’t see my job lasting much longer.

So I told him all about my worries, that I was sure management was up to something, hoping he’d be so consumed by my problems, that he’d fill up his glass. ‘I’m probably just being pessimistic.’

‘You’re being realistic,’ Dan said, which made the knot in my stomach tighten. ‘Everyone’s cutting back. You need to get some real qualifications.’ I hadn’t really wanted a doom-and-gloom careers appraisal. I wanted him to say that I’d been there nine years, that of course my job was safe, but Dan had said all he was going to. He looked at his watch again and I knew, despite the win with the margarita, I was about to lose my audience. ‘I’ve got to go, Al,’ he said. ‘I’m exhausted.’

It wasn’t even nine, but I followed him to the door,
determined not to push him to stay again, and I accepted his hug and kiss goodnight.

‘Think about it,’ Dan said.

‘Think about what?’

‘What we spoke about the other week—you really need to think about going back to your studies.’

‘I could never afford it.’ I thought of my credit cards, the rent, the car payments, but Dan disagreed.

‘You can’t afford not to, Alice. You’ve got talent. Don’t waste it. Take a package if one’s offered and get yourself to university.’

I knew he was right. I guess he’d said what I wanted deep down to hear, even if I didn’t really want to hear it now.

I tried to ring Mum but the line was busy, so I tried Bonny, but her line was busy too.

I tried Mum again and guessed she must be talking to Bonny.

I even contemplated ringing Eleanor, but she was so much older, we just weren’t that close and it was always awkward when I called.

So I tried Bonny again and I got Lex.

‘Oh, hi.’ I was surprised. Normally Bonny answered the landline.

‘Bonny’s in the bath,’ Lex said. ‘Do you want me to get her to call you?’

‘It’s nothing important. How are the kids?’

‘Feral! Look, while I’ve got you…’ And then there was a pause. ‘Let me just close the door.’ I felt my insides turn to liquid. ‘Sorry, I don’t want her to hear.’

My hand was shaking so much I could barely get my
drink to my mouth. ‘You haven’t forgotten about next Saturday.’

‘Of course not.’

‘It’s just…’ And then I heard Bonny’s voice in the background and Lex lowered his. ‘Can you make a special effort?’ And then his voice was back to normal. ‘It’s your sister.’

I chatted to Bonny, but my heart wouldn’t stop thumping and thankfully, given she was dripping wet, we didn’t talk for long.

I was all unsettled. I took the blender over to the computer and filled up my glass. I searched universities and entrance criteria and it was just too confusing so I checked my horoscope, which said now was a good time to give up bad habits but there was nothing about my finances or love life improving.

So I checked another and I checked another and then something caught my eye.

Cosmic Love
by Yasmin Boland.

A step-by-step guide to cosmic-ordering the perfect guy.

It was all about manifesting, apparently.

Build it and they will come
sort of thing.

It was an eBook, which was just as well, because I’d have been too embarrassed to go into a shop and buy it. I typed in my details and waited for my credit card to be declined, but—well, the universe must have wanted me to have it because, despite my late payment, or rather no payment, there it was in my inbox.

I loved it.