‘Something with vitamin E in it.’ I know she’s not really asking, but I can’t resist. ‘It’s like fifteen bucks a litre from the chemist.’
To Potentially-Kate’s credit, she pretends to search my budget moisturiser on her phone for a minute before we turn the topic other ways. I put away matte black forks one by one, wondering what exactly a twenty-eight-year-old woman is supposed to look like.
Word has clearly spread throughout the house about my age. Nicole’s dad (John, I’m getting better at this…only because I heard his wife say it before) uses his drill to speed up the reassembly of my bed. He’s in construction, although given what I’ve seen of Nicole’s house I feel like it’s more his name on the scaffolding outside of a building site than putting on high-vis and steelcaps every day. But John’s telling me all of the little projects he wants to do around the house. A shelf here, some work on the fence. He has talked about it with Brooke’s parents, but apparently he’ll coordinate with me about convenient times to come. He says I’m more likely to answer his texts than Nicole is.
Whatever has been brought into the house has been assembled, positioned, put away or stored. That leaves us without a couch, TV or entertainment unit and means we have bowls but not plates, spatulas but not whisks, dining chairs but no table. There’s some work to do.
We now have three young women eagerly trying to shuffle lead-footed parents out the door. Leave us to our independence! Go away! All ten of us are huddled in the entranceway. Nicole is to call if she needs help using the washing machine for the first time. And Nari needs to remember to stock the toilet paper in her bathroom. Brooke needs to understand how much the new carpets cost.
I thought Nari’s parents were the normal ones, but apparently they were just warming up because now her mother has clasped my face between her two hands, and I can smell her breath. ‘We’re so glad you’ll be here looking out for ourgirls, Gertie. It makes me feel so much better about leaving them!’
‘Not that we’re expecting you to mother them!’ Definitely-Kate says.
‘She should be joining in on whatever trouble they get into!’ John says, nudging me.
‘Please don’t start talking about trouble or I might never leave and end up living on their couch,’ Nicole’s mum (Angela?) cries.
‘Please, Dad,’ Nicole steps between her parents, grabbing each of them by the arm. ‘Stop talking and take Mum home before she follows through on that.’
‘Gertie might want to have her own fun! She’s twenty-eight, John. Not forty,’ Kate says.
‘Of course,’ he replies, nodding furiously. ‘We’d never want to suggest otherwise.’
‘You four girls are going to have so much fun living together!’ Nari’s mum says. ‘I remember flatting at your age—it was like a sleepover with your best girlfriends every night!’
‘Yes, and we’re truly looking forward to it,’ Brooke says. ‘But for it to start, you need to leave.’
Now they’re all being physically shoved out the door, calling out to us like a defendant being dragged out of the dock. We’ll have you all over for dinner soon! Don’t forget to wash the new towels before you use them! Gertie, do you know how to use the stove?
We shut the door, and it’s finally quiet. For the first time in about seven hours.
I think of my twelve boxes, and turn to walk upstairs.
‘Where are you going?’ Nari asks.
‘To unpack my stuff.’
‘Oh, whatever, that can wait. It’s time to shop.’
On the first night in my new house, with my new housemates, we sit on the floor looking at a laptop to pick out a couch together, using Nicole’s body as a guide to the dimensions of the space because we don’t have a tape measure, and she’s exactly five feet tall. We drink pre-mixed margaritas from a cask and order burritos because no one can be fucked cooking. And it’s probably not safe after all the margs.
Itisa bit like a sleepover with my girlfriends. Maybe every night could be like this.
Of course, I’m grateful by day five that not every day is like that. The first three days, we consume so much wine that my poor late-twenties body can’t take it. We decide we’ll only drink Thursday to Saturday going forward. I try to tell them that they don’t need to change their ways just because I’m elderly, but they insist it’ll be good for all of us.
In any case, I am immediately sobered up on that fourth day by hearing that Bee has realised I’m gone. (Reg won the bet.) Nicole alerts me to a new story, and it’s Bee directing viewers to her new reel, which is an artful looping video of the sea near the apartment, rippling in a mesmerising pattern set to relaxing music. Over the visual, she has writtenRemember that you deserve the world.
The caption is a whole other thing.
Just ruminating today on what I deserve. From this world. From the people around me. I haven’t shared much of this onhere, but I have never before felt so let down as I have recently by some key people in my life. My life may seem perfect. It isn’t. Social media isn’t real, and you never know what someone is going through. Support and kindness truly go a long way, and you should never be afraid to let go of the things, or the people, who no longer serve you and your purpose.
Well, fuck.
The comments are as expected.
Thinking of you, hun. Sorry you’re going through this. We’re here for you. Is there anything I can do? Sending love and hugs. Love you so much. You deserve the world and more, gorgeous Bee.
Sad-face emoji. Heart-in-hands emoji. Crown emoji.
