Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

It was a month into the new year. I had spent Christmas with Ruth’s family. Emily had her new baby. Ruth was an aunt again. ( And so are you, Enola , Catherine said.) Ruth had a brief hiatus as an admin assistant for a gym company, but she was now back at the café. My novel was the same length as it was before the bells rang in 2015, and when they did, Ruth and I had celebrated in the warehouse. He had celebrated with Steph and Pat, whom I still hadn’t met. But we were still together, and we were still planning a holiday.

We lay in my bed as the thumping of someone else’s Saturday night bled through the walls. He was scrolling social media, and I was picking at my novel. His eyes drifted to my screen.

Try Wingdings, honey.

I pushed his face, and his smile curled. He was adorable and endearing and frustrating and I couldn’t focus on anything.

What? he said, sensing my thoughts.

Nothing…

We continued with our separate activities, and then he picked up Otter.

No! Leave her alone!

I tried to grab her, but he hid her behind his back and said that otters were pieces of shit.

They are not! They collect rocks!

I hate to break it to you, but otters are violent rapists who bite the females’ noses to stop them from escaping and hold their children hostage. They are fucking pieces of shit.

That can’t be true! And anyway, Otter is female.

I seized her back, and he grabbed my hand. Why are your nails so bitten, honey? What is wrong with you? You’re like a child…

No, I’m not. I just don’t like them long.

Like a grubby little child.

I’m not!

So, you bite them down? Like a monkey?

I told him that I used nail clippers. He told me that I must be the only woman he knew who used nail clippers. I told him that was sexist and that he only knew one woman. What are Steph’s nails like? I asked (hoping that her name might prompt an introduction). But he put my finger in his mouth. I told him that we should stop getting distracted. We still haven’t booked a holiday!

Fine. He took my laptop—Hey! I protested—and started typing in destinations: Mexico, Tokyo, Jamaica. I told him I was thinking of somewhere closer but he wanted sun. When is the last time you had a proper holiday?

Good question, I thought. Ruth and I went to Lisbon, two, three years ago? Thinking of Ruth, I made a mental note to text her back. She had asked if I wanted to see all three Lord of the Rings films and have a shot each time it looked like Legolas forgot a line. We had been seeing less and less of each other lately.

I told him that I hadn’t had a proper holiday since I was a child. Ruth was always in between jobs, and it was hard to find time and money. He told me that I didn’t always have to go with Ruth. It would do you good to go on holiday by yourself, honey.

The way he said that bothered me. I didn’t want him to think that I was boring or unadventurous or codependent or any of the things that I worried about, so I began talking about Kenya. But as soon as the words came out, I realized how much I wanted to say them. We knew so little about each other outside of these few months, and the more time we spent together, the odder that felt. Like forgetting someone’s name and it becoming too late to ask.

He stared as I rambled about camping trips to the Maasai Mara. He told me that my childhood sounded like Animal Planet. I asked him what his family used to do for holidays. Caravan park, he said with a lilt to make me laugh. Didn’t you ever just lie on a beach?

We used to go to the coast.

What coast?

Watamu. Turtle Bay. The airport is Malindi, I think.

He started typing. I asked him what he was doing, and he said that he was seeing how much flights to Malindi were. My throat turned dry. I told him that it had been nearly twenty years since I had been there. He said that he was confident the Indian Ocean hadn’t changed. I told him that it would be really hot. He said that hot was perfect. I told him that it would take ages, you’d have to fly to Nairobi and change. He said it would be an adventure. I said that it would be expensive, but then the prices appeared. That’s doable, he said. Where did you stay? I scratched the back of my head, which was suddenly itching.

This beach house by the sea. I think a friend of Dad’s owned it? I wouldn’t know where to begin now. Although my aunt might. She moved to Kilifi, I think. But I’m not sure if she’s even there anymore. I haven’t seen her since, well, since I was eight or nine. Aunt Louise was pretty eccentric.

He shut the laptop. Honey…

He was looking at me as if I had something that could make him happy, so I agreed to contact her. He asked why I looked terrified, and I made a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh and did an action that wasn’t quite a shrug. He told me that I was a strange creature.

You’re all ice queen by day and sparrow by night.

I didn’t recognize myself, but I still felt seen.

I LIFT UP FROM the bed; a man and a woman are shouting in the alley on the street below. Sometimes they smoke crack in the stair well. They are harmless, I think. At least to me, not to themselves. Their faces are scabbed and their bodies are thin. I can’t hear what they are shouting, but the noises are the same, recognizable ones, shocking, like when you first hear foxes, but then you realize what the sound is.

I don’t know whose idea it was to go on holiday to Kenya. I don’t remember if I wanted it or if I just wanted to make him happy. I feel like he pushed me into it, but he said that I had gone on about how much I wanted to go and so he had no choice. And if he was right about that, then what else was I wrong about?

I touch the bruise on my collarbone.

T HE BAR WAS PINK and red, and the music was early 2000s pop. Amy was standing in front of a semicircle of women all drinking prosecco rosé through penis straws. She had a brIDE TO BE sash over her white playsuit and wore a veil decorated with pictures of David’s face. I had stopped drinking after the wreath-making workshop, because I was working in the morning. Being sober made listening to Amy describe her favorite sexual position in front of her mother even more uncomfortable.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him all day. It had been nearly three months since he first called me his girlfriend, but it still felt new. Being anywhere that he wasn’t was exhausting. These other women had probably met their partner’s friends and told each other that they loved each other. But I felt sorry for them, because they didn’t have what I had.

And I have to lift one leg up like this so that he can then—

Amy continued like she was reading the instructions for a microwave.

Oh yes, your dad likes that, said Amy’s mother, and Amy flung her head forward so that David’s faces turned inside out. Mum! she squealed as everyone laughed.

I waited until the game was over and then went outside to call him. He didn’t answer, and so I called Ruth. Ruth always answered, and I always felt honored, because when I was with her and someone called, she ignored them.

Hey, Laa, what’s up?

I asked her what she was doing, and she said that she was eating edibles and listening to records. I told her that she was so cool. She laughed and said that her face was covered in Sudocrem. How’s Amy’s hen?

I just find hen dos so weird.

Oh god, me too. Still up for coffee in the morning?

I am. I’m going to leave soon so I can get more than five hours’ sleep. Fuck, it’s fucking freezing.

I wrapped my arms around myself and pressed my legs together.

I bet you can’t wait to be in Mexico, Ruth said.

I still hadn’t told her the truth about where we were going. I had been afraid that she would talk me out of it. But now it was booked and now I was lying.

Just then, my phone beeped.

Oh, Roo, he’s calling me. Can I call you later?

I barely said hello before he started talking about his book. I waited until he finished and then told him that I wanted to come over. He said that he thought I had work in the morning. I told him that I did but that I wanted to see him. It’s all this talk of sex, you see…

Oh yeah? he said with a suggestive inflection.

Yeah, I said, biting my lip as if he could see me.

He told me not to be long.

Inside, everyone was dancing to Beyoncé. I congratulated Amy and said that I couldn’t wait for the wedding. She asked me if he was going to come.

Sorry he can’t come for the whole day, but it’s costing us one hundred pounds per head, and honestly, babe, I really don’t know him.

I said that I hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, and she told me to hurry up. She kept her hands above her head and her hips moving as she spoke. I reassured her that I would ask him soon. And I would. I wasn’t sure why I was nervous. Going on holiday was a bigger step than going to a wedding.

If he won’t go to a wedding with you…

He will! I promise I’ll ask him soon.

I danced to three songs, and an hour later I was in his bed.

T HEY HAVE TO LEARN , Enola. I thought about how openly Amy’s friends had discussed their orgasms, and so when he moved between my thighs, I asked if he could touch me first.

Oh, he said. Okay. Sure.

He paused and then started, mechanically, like he was demonstrating that he had been asked to do it. It was awkward, and so I told him to forget it. I’m ready. I want you. I licked my hand and positioned him. Persevering, I directed him to go deeper and faster or slower, but when I opened my eyes, he looked frustrated.

Are you okay?

Yes, he said. Just…

Am I telling you what to do too much?

He said that the instructions made him feel like he was doing everything wrong. So I let him do what he wanted—or rather, I let him think that I wanted what he wanted. Maybe he knew the truth, but regardless, when he finished, I felt a similar release to him (information I wouldn’t have shared with a pack of women drinking from penis straws). Before he rolled over, he said that we were going on holiday in a week. He squeezed the soft flesh above my hip and said: You feeling beach ready?

S ORRY I ’ M LATE ! R UTH breezed into the room the way she breezed into every room. I pushed a flat white across the table and asked her how her weekend at Emily’s was. She said that Evie made her watch an awful thing about a pig but that the new baby was cute. My stomach was churning. There was a couple in the corner of the coffee shop having an argument. The woman’s fringe was dyed in rainbow stripes. I wondered if she had a distinctive writing voice—lots of one-word sentences? I bet she knows how to ask for what she wants in bed .

Ruth was staring. Enola, what’s wrong? Is it him? You know you can talk to me about him, right?

I took a deep breath. So, you know how we are going on holiday?

Ruth tipped her head as if to tell me to continue.

We’re not going to Mexico. We’re going to Kenya. To Watamu.

Ruth’s lips parted, but before she could speak, I told her that I had contacted Aunt Louise and rented her friend’s beach house. Ruth looked down into her coffee. She was silent for a long time. I told her to say something. Fine. She asked me why I lied to her. I told her that I wasn’t sure. I thought she was going to get angry, but she reached for my hand and asked if he understood what the trip meant. I didn’t know why, but her kindness frustrated me. I told her not to be histrionic. It’s just a holiday! I said in the same tone as when something is just a joke. Ruth blew air and said that she didn’t know where to begin. I picked up my coffee. Well, don’t, then. Just be happy for me. She asked if I had told my mum. I told her that my mum wouldn’t care.

But don’t you think you should tell her? I assume you’re going to be seeing Louise?

Shit. I hadn’t thought about that. All I had thought about was him on the beach in his swimming trunks. Even when we got vaccinations and malaria tablets, nothing had felt real until this conversation.

Roo. Stop, okay? It’s just going to be a fun holiday!

Ruth held her hands in front of her chest. Her nails were painted yellow, apart from her right thumb, which was black. Okay. Don’t have a go at me. I’m just worried, Enola. You’ve spent a long time getting your life to a place that you’re happy with and to go back to Kenya after nearly twenty years with someone you barely know?

I told her that I did know him. And that I didn’t think my life had been in a place that I was happy with. Ruth asked if that was true. Do you really think you’ve not been happy, Laa?

I told her that I wasn’t sure, but that I was definitely happy now. Ruth lifted an eyebrow. I asked her why that was so hard to believe. She ran her tongue over her gums, and I knew that she was going to say something that I didn’t want to hear.

For one, she began, you keep saying that he’s straightforward and easy to talk to, but if that was true, you’d literally be going anywhere else! Think about it. You’re so keen to please him.

I told her to stop getting in my head. She told me that I was different at the moment. I rebutted that she was different when she met someone. How? she challenged. I told her that when she was with Elle, she watched lots of German films, and with Kris, she started bouldering. Ruth dropped her chin and said that was taking an interest in their hobbies. Does he take an interest in yours? I told her that we wrote together. She said that writing wasn’t a hobby, it was my career.

It’s a hobby , Ruth.

And is that from him?

No! But sitting watching him type just reaffirms that I have absolutely no hope in being a professional writer.

She said that she hated that I was doubting my writing. I told her that I had been doubting my writing for years. She said that this was different. And if that’s the case, why not spark something up, write something new, do a course—don’t just sit there watching him type!

I’m not just watching him—

Ruth interrupted. We’re going off topic. At the end of the day, I’m concerned that this trip is going to hurt you. And that you’re not protecting yourself enough with this guy.

I told her that I was fine. But then the coffee shop became louder and brighter, like a video game, and I had to blink to settle it. Ruth asked me if I had eaten enough. She had on an expression like we had this conversation all the time, but we hadn’t had it for years. I said that the real issue was that she didn’t like him. She said that was irrelevant. Did you like the last guy that I went out with, Enola? I reminded her that the last time she went on a date with a man was fifteen years ago and he paid for his own dinner with supermarket vouchers. At that we laughed, and I was relieved until her eyes glossed and she said that she always thought we would go back to Kenya together.

Oh, Roo.

I plunged my hand into hers and told her how sorry I was. I’m so selfish. I didn’t think. She told me not to worry.

I’m so sorry, Roo.

She waved her hand like it was nothing before condensing her feelings into pithy advice: Just make sure you pack the Jungle Formula.

The conversation was over. Ruth checked her plastic strawberry watch and finished her coffee; then, singing a thank-you to the waiter, she opened the door and stepped aside to let me go through first. With us the air was cleared as easily as it was filled.