“Uh, no.What’s it to you?”
“Just asking.”
“Well, do us both a favor and quit it.”
“Not in the mood to chat, got you.”He sighs.“Looks like this is going to be a long year.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be here that long,” I mumble.
“Won’t you?”
“No.”
“If you say so.”
I turn back to my luggage and decide just to ignore the guy.Sinclair.Doesn’t he have another name?I’m about to face him and ask when I hear him speaking again.
“You’ve missed dinner.”
“What a shame,” I say, thinking about vinegar-soaked fries and other highlights of British cuisine.
“We can sort something out for you in the kitchen,” he says, and suddenly I know that he knows.I glance over my shoulder.I want to deny it.But I understand my body well enough to know I’d regret that decision in an hour or two at most.The trip was tiring, then there’s the jet lag, and I don’t want a night of low blood sugar.
“My mum told me you’re diabetic,” he says.
“How discreet of her.”
“Look, I’m making an effort.Can’t you meet me halfway?”
“Don’t bother,” I say.“I’m not here to make friends.”
“The way you’re acting, you’re not likely to.”
I can’t help smiling, with my back to him.Ha, he’s pissed.Bite me, Scotland boy.“Boo-hoo,” I say, bored.
I hear the bed creak as he stands up.He crosses the room and vanishes into the hole that’s meant to be a bathroom.He suddenly reappears and goes to the door.I turn around after all.
“Where are you going?”
“What do you care?”He’s shut the door before I can speak.
Great.I didn’t even get to ask him for the Wi-Fi password.At least then I could have googled this place, see what there is here.What the hell?Looks like it’s going to take some good old-fashioned exploration.
I fling some of my clothes into the rank wardrobe beside my bed, then decide I can’t stand another minute in this room.Looks more like a camp bed than a bed.I know I’ll fall out when I try to turn over.Where do they go to screw here?It’s not just the narrow bed but the lack of privacy.God, I have to get out of here ASAP.
My insulin pump beeps.Great.I bet the cannula’s snapped after all that time on the plane.I open the second case, which is half full of insulin vials and the kit for changing them.Seeing my irritating roommate has stormed off, I take the chance to remove the pump, which I would have needed to do tomorrow anyway.Luckily the sandwich I bought for lunch at Heathrow is still in my backpack.I felt too nauseous to eat it, which hasn’t changed, but I have no choice now.I’ll have to make do.I’ve just thrown the wrapping into the trash can under the lousy desk when my roommate returns.With wet hair.
He seems to spot my confusion: We have a shower in the tiny bathroom.
“There are shared showers on the wing.They’re bigger than the one here.”
“On the wing?”I repeat, because I think I must have misheard.
“Yeah, that’s what it’s called.”
“I thought the wings were the dorm blocks?”
He shrugs.“And the corridors.Just go with it, OK?”
