The Debt & the Doormat (17 page)

And I hope it's you. 

‘Maybe.  Maybe not.’

‘Oh my God!  Don't say that, you’ll make a girl kill herself!’

‘Sorry,’ he laughs, leaning back.  ‘I am trying to listen to you actually.  You know, be a bit more optimistic.’

‘Really?’ I say, amazed that he’s listening to me. 

I’ve had an effect on him!  My God, if he only knew of the effect he’s currently having on me.

‘Yeah.  In fact...I actually met someone.’

My face drops and I let out a tiny pathetic sound as if I’ve been kicked in the stomach.  Met someone?  I try to quickly compose myself and act casual, but it's hard when all you want to do is burst into tears.

‘Met someone?  Who?’ I say through the ringing in my ears.

‘A woman in the office,’ he smiles.

Wow.  So he’s met someone he likes.  He doesn’t like me.  Why did I even think that for a second?

‘Oh...great!’  I’m trying my best to sound pleased for him, but I want to run and hide under my duvet and listen to my Adele album.

‘Yeah.  Normally I would have just brought her back here straight away, but all I could hear was you calling me a man whore.’  He gives a short laugh.  ‘So instead I’m taking her out tomorrow.’

‘Oh.’

‘And it's all thanks to you.  You calling me a man whore made me think maybe I should try and have a relationship again.’

What an idiot I am.  I feel so stupid for even having a flicker of hope that he might find me remotely attractive.  And even if I ever had a chance, it’s because of me that he’s planning to have a relationship with someone else.  What is wrong with me?

But then, did he kind of lead me on?  I just felt like there was something between us.  I must just be so emotionally starved of affection that for someone to even show me the slightest bit of friendship I think they’re in love with me.  What an imbecile.

‘That’s...great,’ I force myself to say. 

‘I know.  I’m taking her out tomorrow night,’ he beams.

‘Oh.  Well my advice would be to wait...you know...to sleep with her.’

‘Really?  Why?’ he asks puzzled, eyeing me suspiciously.

‘Oh yeah!  There is really nothing sexier than a man that doesn’t want to have sex.’

‘Really?’  He scratches his head.

‘Oh totally!  I don't care if she begs for it.  Even if...if she threatens to sleep with another man.  You just hold it back.  She’ll want you all the more.’

‘And you’re sure this works for women?’

‘Oh yeah!  Trust me.  If you really like her then take my advice.’

‘Oh, ok.  Well maybe I should.’  He smiles, but still seems suspicious.

I’m going straight to hell.

Don't ask me how, but somehow yet again I’m on a power walk at 6 in the morning.  It turns out Izzy can be very persuasive.  Don't let that smiley persona get to you.  Underneath that smile she’s an army Major.  Not one to be messed with. 

‘You’ll get better the more we go,’ she says to me as we enter the house.

‘More we go?’ I ask, hoping she isn’t going to make me do this again.

‘I thought we could make this a regular thing.  Well, as long as I don't have client appointments.’  She walks towards the kitchen.  ‘You know, like we talked about.’

‘Oh...do you think I need it?’  I follow her towards the sink, desperate for water.

‘Yes,’ she says bluntly.  ‘Don't get me wrong, you’re tiny, but you just need to tighten up a bit.’ She crushes her hands together in a menacing way.  ‘And remember what I said about giving up caffeine and sugar.’   

‘Morning,’ Ryan says, making us both jump.

‘God, you scared us,’ Izzy says, as she stretches out her legs.

‘Morning,’ I say, conscious of my sweaty forehead.  I avoid eye contact, the same humiliation from last night taking over my body. 

‘So I probably won’t see you guys tonight.  I’m at my Grandma’s today helping her with some gardening and then I’ll probably go straight from there to my date.’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot about your date,’ Izzy says.  ‘You must like her.  Normally you’d just bring her back here for a quick shag.  Is she
special
?’ she teases.

‘Shut up,’ he snaps, rolling his eyes.

‘Going anywhere nice?’ I enquire, trying to sound casual.

‘Not sure yet,’ he says, blasé as usual. 

As I pour myself a glass of water I notice a card for the new Italian restaurant Delanios round the corner on the worktop.  Ah, so that's where he’s going.

*
                            *                            *

‘Hello?’ Jazz croaks down the phone.

‘Hey Jazz, how are you?’

‘Jesus, what time is it?’

‘Early.’

‘It is Saturday right?  I haven’t slept in for work?’

‘No, no, it's Saturday.  How is work anyway?’

‘It’s OK, boring as fuck, but it’s work.  I just can’t wait for my first pay cheque.’

‘Well, I’ve decided that I’m going to take you out tonight.  Treat you for being so good and frugal.’

‘Oh my God – fab!  Where do you wanna go?’ she squeals.

‘I was thinking Delanios.’

*                            *                            *

When we arrive at the restaurant that night I’m tingling with excitement.  Obviously, if I were to bump into him I would say hi, but it's really not about him at all.  I’m looking forward to catching up with Jazz and trying out the new food. 

Plus, I look totally amazing, if I do say so myself.  I’ve got on Jazz’s skin tight jeans, which I’m not sure are supposed to be this skin tight.  I’ve got a black lacy top which actually manages to make my boobs look big.  I’ve teamed it with killer black heels, sure that Jazz would moan if I didn’t and my makeup is done to perfection. 

The short Italian waiter shows us to a small table in a corner.  It’s quite dark, the only glow from the red tea lights which sit on each table.  The walls are painted to look like we’re in the middle of an Italian market and there's a female singer in a red dress singing in the corner. 

‘So, I haven’t had a chance to chat to you properly since we swapped lives.  How are you finding it at the house?’ she asks while scanning the menu.

‘Oh, yeah great.’  I’m barely listening to her.  I’m desperately craning my neck to see if he’s here.

‘And?  Have you got to know the girls and Ryan better?’

‘Yeah.  They’re great actually.  Although Izzy’s on my case to shape up.’

‘I knew she would!  She loves a challenge,’ she giggles.

‘Challenge?  Well thanks!   So have you seen anymore of lover boy?’

‘Actually, I have.  And his
name
is Jake.  You should meet him, his body is amazing, totally ripped.  He’s taking me out again tomorrow.’

‘And, will he bring condoms this time?’ I whisper over the table.

‘Yes, thank-you Grandma.  I learnt my lesson the first time.’

‘If you’d learnt it the first time I wouldn’t have had to do the same thing the first week of uni.’

‘Why do you always have to drag things up?’  She narrows her eyes at me.

‘I know, sorry.  I’m turning into my mother, I just know it!’ I wail.

‘Never even joke about that!’

We collapse into giggles and can barely keep a straight face long enough to order our meals.  The waiter looks frustrated as we attempt to pronounce the food.  I’m sure right now he’s on the phone to the local loony bin, asking if anyone has escaped.

I fill in Jazz on bumping into Stuart and she’s naturally horrified.  She also seems interested in why Ryan pretended to be my boyfriend.

‘I wonder why he did that?’ she asks, picking the nail varnish off her fingers.

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ I say, feeling flushed. 

Remember – you are just a joke to him.  I quickly scan the room again.  Where is he?  We’re halfway through our meal now and I can’t see him anywhere.

‘Are you ok muffin?  You seem kind of distracted.’

‘Do I?’ I say absentmindedly.  Where the hell is he!?  I knock back another glass of wine. 

‘Yeah.  Are you looking for someone?’

‘No!  Of course not!’ I shriek.  Perhaps a little dramatically.

‘Ok, calm down!’  She looks at me strangely.

‘Actually...If I tell you something do you promise not to tell anyone?’

Her eyes light up with intrigue.  ‘Yeah of course.’

‘I mean no-one.  Not a living soul.’

‘Yes!  Just bloody tell me!’

‘Ok.’  I lean across the table and double check that no-one I know is in the restaurant.

I’m ready to confess to her my feelings for Ryan but as I open my mouth I chicken out.  I can't tell her.  She’s already warned me off him, telling me he’s a player.  She’ll just get mad and tell me I’m making a mistake.  The truth is maybe I want to make a mistake.  A very delicious one.  I desperately search for something else to say.

‘Richard’s wife is having an affair,’ I blurt out before I change my mind.

‘What?  Annabel?’

‘Yep.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure!  I did this stake out with Cheryl from work and she’s cheating with her husband.’

‘Oh my God!  I just...I just didn’t think she was the type, you know.’

‘Trust me, I know!  I can't believe she’d betray him like that.’

‘I know!  I thought they were the perfect couple.’

‘Me too!  It's weird.  So...do you think I should tell him?’

‘Who?  Richard?’

God, she can be dense sometimes. 

‘No.  The tramp that lives in the park.  Of course Richard!’

‘Ok!  Jeez!  Chill out.’

‘Well?  I have to tell him don't I?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t,’ she says seriously.

‘You wouldn’t?  Why not?’

‘Because it's their business.  Their marriage.  If you tell him he probably won't even believe you.’

‘Yeah, I did think of that actually.’

‘Trust me.  Just forget it.  Just pretend you never saw it.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’

‘I definitely am,’ she nods confidently. 

*                            *                            *

After the dessert I realise I’m not going to see Ryan.  I mean, what was I planning on doing anyway?  Jumping into his arms and forcing him to want me?  We sink another bottle of wine before we eventually get the bill.  Fuck.  £90!  This having a social life thing is making me skint.  I’m starting to realise how Jazz got herself in this mess to begin with. 

We call a cab and Jazz drops me off outside the door.

‘Your half is eighteen pound,’ the taxi driver says to me.

‘She’ll give you a fiver and a blow job,’ Jazz announces before bursting into hysterics. 

The cab driver looks back at her, horrified.  I try to apologise, but all that comes out is a slur and a bit of dribble.  I throw a twenty pound note at Jazz and stumble out.

When the fresh air hits me I realise that I’m quite drunk.  My legs feel like jelly and it's actually a bit of an effort to even put one foot in front of the other.  Come on Poppy, make it to the front door.  I trip on the front door step and land on my knees.  I laugh at myself.  What a dunce.  I turn to wave at Jazz who waves back, giggling like a lunatic as the cab pulls off. 

Damn.  I need to get up, but everything’s a bit spinny.  Every time I try to clutch onto the door handle to pull myself up I seem to be slipping and falling hard on my arse again.  And giggling.  Ok, one more time.  Grab the door handle and try and pull yourself up, you retard!  I grab hold and am just raising myself up when the door gives way.  I fall backwards onto the stained carpet, giggling. 

I look up to see Ryan’s frowning forehead.  I love those little wrinkles.  I want to touch them. 

‘Poppy, are you OK?’ he asks, looking very concerned.

‘Hmm, you’re pretty.’

Then everything goes black. 

*                            *                            *

When I wake up I can barely open my eyes for the pain.  That angry obese elf is back sitting on my head again, except this time he’s thumping it with a large brick.  Breathe, just breathe!  The pain will stop eventually.  Either that or I will die.

I turn over to my side, squinting my eyes from the amount of effort I have to put into it.  My stomach churns and makes me immediately wish I hadn’t.  I must just freeze and not move again.  I open my eyes when the feelings of nausea have started to calm down.  Ryan’s face is on the pillow next to me.

What the hell is he doing here?  I look around, very slowly, to see that I’m in my bedroom.  I didn’t sleep walk in the middle of the night and crawl into his bed, thank God.  But what is he doing here?  Oh no.  Please don't tell me we slept together?  If I’ve slept with him and can’t remember it I’ll never be able to live with myself. 

I try to sense my body.  Am I dressed?  But it all just feels numb.  Numb apart from the crushing pain in my head.  I daren’t look down.  Moving my head is too much right now.  I slowly move my hand under the duvet covers and feel around.  My top is off but my bra is on.  I reach down and thank God my jeans are still on.  What the hell happened?  Did we start making out and then I threw up on him?  Please God, no.

I look at his peaceful angelic face.  He’s like a dream when he’s sleeping.  He stirs slightly and then slowly opens his eyes.  I smile weakly but he looks a little freaked out.  God, was I staring at him while he was sleeping?  I must look like a loon.

‘Oh, sorry,’ I say, the words echoing through my brain.  Keep v-e-r-y still Poppy.

‘Are you OK?’ he asks wrinkling his forehead.  I must look a right mess.  If I look even half as bad as I feel I must be like a dragon. 

‘Yeah I’m OK,’ I whisper, my throat feeling like a group of teenagers have skateboarded down it.  ‘But why are you here?  We didn’t...you know?’

He bursts into loud laughing and my head rattles.  OK, it’s not that funny. 

‘No, you’re safe.  I like my victims to be conscious.’

Well it’s nice that he seems to have some standards.  But why is he shouting?  Every word he says is hurting my eye sockets, as if he were punching me in the face. 

‘You were just in such a state that I was scared to leave you in case you choked on your own vomit.’

I start a smile, thinking he’s joking, but then his serious expression tells me that he is in fact serious.  Shit, how bad was I when I got home?  I barely remember getting the bill.

‘Thanks,’ I say.  I meant it to come out as sarcastic but it instead came out plain and un-interested.

He smiles kindly.  God, he’s amazing. 

My stomach suddenly feels very tight and I freeze completely, hoping that it will stop what I know is coming.  I feel breathless, but I try to take a discreet deep breath.  I don't want to exert myself.  It only seems to make it worse.  Shit, its coming.  It’s coming now.

I jump out of bed, but the room is still spinning.  I end up falling on my side.  Shit, this is hard work.  Maybe I’m still drunk.  I get up again, holding onto the bedside table and run out of the door.

‘Poppy!  Are you ok?’ Ryan calls behind me.

But I don’t answer him.  I’m too busy running for the kitchen sink, sure there’s no way I’ll make it up to the bathroom.  I reach it just in time and thank God it’s not filled with dirty dishes.  I vomit so heavily and strongly that it’s like my body is possessed.