I hear Bee gasp in fake shock. ‘No? My mistake. You just wanted to put me on pause for a month so you can fuck randoms on holiday. So much different! So much better!’ And look, she and I might be on rocky ground right now, but the only person below her on my list is William, so I’m secretly enjoying this, hunched behind my door (slightly ajar), trying to catch a visual to match the audio. Bee doesn’t give him time to respond, but when she next speaks, it’s softer. I can hear the vulnerability pierce every word. ‘I just want to know why you got my hopes up. Why spend so much time and energy making me think we had a future if you always planned to pull the rug out from under me?’
William walks past my room at this point. He holds out his arms, beseeching, beckoning Bee into his embrace. I can’t see if she takes him up on it. ‘Baby, we do have a future if you’ll just stop self-sabotaging.’
‘You can’t have seriously thought that I or any other woman would accept this.’
‘I hoped you’d understand, I need to do this for my mental health. You know how stressed I’ve been.’
Oh, fuck right off with that, William.
‘Yes, I see,’ Bee replies. ‘You hoped I’d be too lovesick to deny you anything. Sure, baby, go off, do what you need. I’ll be here waiting for you like a good little wind-up doll to help continue the destressing.’
‘No. No! You’re assigning motives to my actions that don’t align with who I am! I never wanted to hurt you!’ he says.
‘If you thought it would all be hunky dory, why weren’t you upfront with me? Why didn’t you tell me from the start that we had an expiration date? Or a pause if you weresosure that any woman in her right mind would fall for that?’ It’s a great question.
‘Baby, you know I’m a people-pleaser!’ he replies.
‘Well, you’re not pleasingme.’
They stop talking, but I’m too scared to venture out in case they’re gearing up for round two or, heaven forbid, banging it out. So I stay, frozen in place, behind my door, begging my ears to pick up any soft noises.
A few minutes later, I hear a thump and a slide. When I see legs stick out in the crack of my doorframe, I gather that William has collapsed onto the floor. ‘So, where do we go from here?’ he asks. Has he even been listening to the conversation he has literally just been having?
‘There’s nowhere togo,William,’ Bee says.
And it’s quiet again. I hear a door shut faintly. Opening my door, I see William, alone, on our floor, well and truly outstaying his welcome. ‘I think it’s time to go, William,’ I say.He looks up at me with a sneer.
‘I bet you’re just loving this, aren’t you?’
‘Loving that you fucked my friend over? No. Loving that I was proven right that you’re a slimy bastard? It’s not unsatisfying.’
He stands up. ‘You’re a bitch.’ Oh, good one.
‘Mysteriously, Bill,’ I say, relishing not giving a shit about his name preferences, ‘your assessment of my character carries little weight with me. Now please leave my house.’ Why didn’t Bee take the rubbish out before washing her hands of this situation? I’m always left cleaning the apartment.
He won’t leave. He actually steps closer to me, a leer on his face. My heart starts to beat a little faster. I start making some calculations—if I step back, can I get into my room and shut the door without him grabbing me? Am I faster than him? Why did I leave my phone on the bed?
‘Look at you, acting all smug. You think you’re any better than me? Artie’s just using you, you know.’
Excellent. We’ve entered the stereotypical misogynistic sex-based insults portion of the argument, directed at me by a man with (clearly) zero self-awareness.
‘You’ve already spread your legs for him, haven’t you?’ Was he always this much of a comic-book villain? ‘You really think he’s going to stick around after that? Who would want your damaged ass? Gambling-addict mum, absent dad…working as a fuckingwaitressat your age. And you act like you’re better than me?’
Tears gather at the edge of my eyes and my vision goes blurry with the effort to blink them back. I’m not going tolet this bastard see me cry. ‘Hey, Willy.’ Ignore the quiver in my voice. ‘One thing I’ve got going for me over you is that my name is on this house. And if you don’t get the fuck out of it now, Billiam, one thing you’ll have over me is a police report. Leave. I won’t say it again.’
I can see him considering his options. But he does decide to go. As he closes the door, I can’t help but yell, ‘And it’s just weird that you force everyone to call you William all the time!’ Then I lock the door before he can retaliate.
I throw my face to the ceiling. ‘Bee!’
‘Stop shouting!’ she says, emerging from her room. ‘There has been way too much shouting today.’ She rubs her temples. ‘I think I’m getting a migraine.’
‘I don’t give a shit, Bee. How did Billy know about my mother?’ Bee flinches. It’s the use of the nickname, I think. I’m not sure she fully appreciates my anger just yet.
‘I told him.’ She shrugs, like it’s a casual thing. Like she told William I prefer pistachio gelato to vanilla.
I shake my head, unable to compute. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘It just came up. It’s not like it was a secret.’ And then she shrugs again.
