‘I hear ya,’ I shout unkindly at the still-mewing Oscar, trying to find emails. Ted’s email address is [email protected]. I finally have it. The prize. Perhaps it’s better if I email him and tell him everything.
Searches for ‘Bathurst’, ‘Naomi’ or ‘Judith’ bring up nothing. Alice’s emails to Ted, what few of them there are, read as disconcertingly pedestrian. ‘See you Tuesday.’ ‘Gotta go.’ ‘Meet me over in Stucky’s.’ ‘The itinerary will come in another email.’ Conspicuous by their absence are the cute sign-offs, the mentions of ‘I love you’ that everyone in love uses as a matter of course. Are they a couple, or business partners? What sort of weird arrangement is this, exactly? Is this a romance simply for show? And why does he even agree to be in it if things are this… clinical?
I try to ignore Oscar’s judgemental whinnying as I find Alice’s bedroom at the top of the stairs. ‘You’re a good friend,’ I tell him. I stop on the threshold.Is this too far?Another voice cuts in, almost immediately:Not nearly far enough.
As her own physical appearance might indicate, everything about Alice Andre’s bedroom is neat, orderly and expensive. I sit down gingerly on the bed, eyeing the ceiling. So Ted, in his most intimate moments, has been here, probably looking right at the world from here. The thought makes me nauseous. I sit there for a few minutes, pridefully remembering to rearrange the bed back to its meticulous self.
In the bathroom, I find one toothbrush in the cup holder. There are no men’s toiletries, no men’s clothing in the hamper.
The canine nagging gets a bit too much after fifteen minutes of snooping, and I decide I’d rather keep Oscar on side than forge any kind of enmity. I can explore more the next time I’m here, I reason. We walk across to the park, and as I scrape up his morning legacy with a pooper scooper, I laugh inwardly, thinking of the things people are prepared to do for love.
The restaurant is dimly lit but not in a good way; the type of place to which men bring the women they sleep with who aren’t their wives, or maybe aren’t even their girlfriends.
It’s as if Elliott reads my mind. ‘I know, don’t ever go to a place with an aquarium by the door, right? But the lamb kotfas will genuinely make you see God.’
Elliott messaged me earlier, a nice surprise, and suggested we meet.
He looks different to the last time I saw him; something to do with the shirt and ironed slacks.
‘You look like a bible salesman,’ I chide him.
‘I know,’ he replies, shuddering. ‘My sister’s rehearsal dinner. I needed to escape.’
‘Was Jodie not around?’ I ask after we both order beers. These feel like friendly beers, not like Beers With Potential.
‘I think she’s on some kind of shoot somewhere in Alberta.’ Elliott shrugs. ‘Anyway, what’s been happening?’
I want to offload everything, but sense that it may sound slightly unhinged in its fullness. ‘Oh, dating stuff, I think,’ I say.
He nods warmly in solidarity. He is definitely not at all interested in me.
‘A guy here? Sorry, I just realized I made an assumption there. A person here?’
‘No, it’s a guy,’ I tell him as something bursts inside me. ‘You might know him actually. He’s an actor from here. Ted Levy.’
I wait for Elliott to be impressed. Instead, he takes a long draw on his beer. ‘Oh, yikes.’
‘“Oh, yikes”?’ The way he says it makes me feel clammy with unease.
‘Yeah. I don’t know how long you’ve been dating, but there be dragons: that’s all I’m saying.’
I cannot hear something bad. Not now.
‘What does that mean?’ My voice sounds as though I’m weirdly defensive over Ted.
‘Oh God, it may not even be true, but he went out with a girl from college, Linda. Everyone knew her on campus, she was like super smart and cool, starting fanzines and stuff like that. Almost a campus celebrity.’ Jealousy rises up inme at the mention of the word ‘celebrity’ until I remember afresh that she lost Ted in the end.
‘Anyway, it wasn’t good.’ His face darkens. ‘How long have you guys been dating?’
‘Not long… why? Tell me what you know.’
‘As I say, it could just be a rumour or like someone got the wrong idea, but Linda showed up to college graduation with two black eyes and a broken wrist.’
My insides turn to liquid.
‘No one ever found out the real truth behind it, and she never said, but there was talk that it was something to do with Ted,’ he adds.
I let this sink in, trying not to react.
