I almost say,so do people who aren’t lying to themselves about being queer, but I hold the barb in.
‘I wasn’t beingliteral,’ I say instead.
She doesn’t reply, but looks up at the sky. ‘Usually, I have to set alarms to remember everything,’ she says, kind of dreamily. ‘The one thing about being here is that I’ve surrendered all life administration to the production team. It’s nice not thinking about dinner.’
I’m not sure why we’re having this conversation out in the cold. ‘Can’t relate,’ I sigh, desperately missing my kitchen. ‘Not cooking is so strange.’
‘Does Warren cook?’ she asks for some reason.
‘A little.’
‘Good, your relationship is so amicable,’ she says, and I think she’s aiming for sarcasm but doesn’t quite land it.
‘It is,’ I say, calm as possible. ‘We’re honest with each other.’
‘I doubt that,’ she snaps, and it’s annoying that she’s right, because I still haven’t told Warren that I bat for the other team exclusively.
‘Okay, fine, there’s a few details missing.’
‘A few! Dolly, are you always this good at lying to yourself?’ Her voice hitches. ‘At lying to your fiancé?’
‘It might be fake, but it’s solid. Has Patrick talked to you about his ex yet? Peony is as big an omission as my lesbianism.’
I regret saying that immediately.
Carys’s eyes flash wide and angry. ‘Urgh, just…fuck off, Dolly.’
She storms away a little and I let her go while I panic about saying my truth out loud. I look around where we are on the patio, not caring if I make it obvious that I’m actively looking for cameras because if they see this, they’ll have heard what I just said.
After a few minutes, I come up empty. Either way, it’s too late now. If production have cottoned on, I’ll hear about it tomorrow. It’s not like, if I even found them, I could rip the equipment out of the walls.
I need to be more careful about what I’m saying just to get back at her.
I’m about to leave, but she’s standing by the edge of the pool in a way that worries me. No one should swim unaccompanied.
I might want to, but I can’t leave her alone out here, even if we’re just arguing and probably making it worse.
Come on, Dolly, be a grown-up. Be the bigger person here.
I give her a few moments to cool down, or to curse me under her breath, and slowly approach.
In the moonlight, I see the sheen of tears on her cheeks and neck. Her mouth is a flat line, all from a tense jaw. Like she’s trying to engage every muscle in her body to hold herself up. There are no further words, no movement, nothing else from her. She has that trapped animal look again.
‘What’s wrong then?’ I say a little too brusquely.
I’ve said the magic words, because the statue begins to crumble. Her body vibrates. I don’t think it’s a panic attack, but her eyes are wide and unfocused.
It’s kind of like a look I’ve seen on my mum’s face, when she’s in a really bad state. She doesn’t say anything, because I don’t think shecan.
‘I’m going to get you a glass of water. Then I’ll be right back.’ I speak slowly, like I’m talking to a feral cat I need to convince to eat. Or to not bite me. Again. In a less fun context.
Her eyes flash to me, huge and pleading.
‘Just me, I promise.’
On light feet, I tiptoe back to the kitchen. Now is not the time for wine goblets. She needs something with a handle. I take a mug and fill it.
When I get back, Carys hasn’t moved.
