Everyone else is in the living room. Charlie’s strumming his guitar; Curtis is waging his lifelong war against paperwork; Rex is watching some true crime show on TV.
I shuffle past Ahmed to grab a Gatorade from the fridge. ‘What smells so good?’
Ahmed bops me on the nose. ‘You’ll like it, Italian boy! Curtis loves my spaghetti bolognese, and it’s his night off from the bar, so I’ve made it for him,’ he says. ‘I’ve made enough for everyone, if you want some.’
I can see chunks of carrot in the sauce, something my family would never do (we’d put in peas) but I don’t mention it. ‘Absolutely starving after footy,’ I tell him. ‘I’d froth that.’
All the other guys in the team say ‘froth’ so I’ve started saying it, too.
‘Keep your froth to yourself, please,’ Ahmed says, pulling a lid off a saucepan. ‘Veggies are ready. Okay!’ He goes into fussy mother mode. ‘Since we’re all home and I’m the only one doing any work, you can all help me prepare for dinner!’ he trills. ‘Curtis, clear off your laptop and paperwork, please, babe. Rex, open a window to get rid of whatever that smell is you just released. And Charlie, could you set the table? And you, Italian boy, get in the shower, quick sticks.’
I shower, and pad into Charlie’s room to change into my PJs.
Since my stay has ended up being longer than expected, I’m now on a cheap IKEA mattress on the floor. I’ve been paying board and I’m helping at the bar, so I don’t feel like a freeloader. I keep promising to find a rental soon, but they all keep telling me there’s no rush.
I’m sure I’m outstaying my welcome, but I like it here.
I’m still towelling down when Charlie bustles into the bedroom. We’ve gotten pretty comfortable living together again, like we were at the hostel years ago. He doesn’t flinch at seeing me in a towel, and I don’t blink when he takes his shirt off to put on a warmer jumper.
‘You had a good day, dude?’ Charlie mutters through the fabric of his jumper as he tries to find the hole for his head.
‘Weird day,’ I admit. ‘Lost my job at the call centre.’
‘Shit. Sorry, dude,’ Charlie jumper-muffles. ‘Like redundancies or something?’
I waver, then tell Charlie how Carol overheard my recorded root with Jack.
Charlie’s scruffy head pokes through the jumper hole and he loses it laughing, apologises while trying to catch his breath, then laughs all over again. ‘You dirty monkey! Like, I’m sorry you lost your job, but this is so fucking funny.’
‘Don’t tell the others,’ I plead. ‘Especially Ahmed – he’ll be such a bitch about it.’
Charlie musses my hair. ‘I won’t. And you know you can pick up more bar shifts to help you with money.’ He smirks. ‘Dirty monkey!’ He heads back to the living room.
I don’t know why, but I’m smiling, like I’m happy I got caught, or I’m happy Charlie knows what I’m really like.
When I finish changing into my long-sleeved T-shirt and tracksuit pants and get back to the table, everyone’s seated except Ahmed, who’s plating up pasta.
Charlie’s asking Curtis if there’s been any more drama from Xander.
Mamma mia, the drama!
After his fight with Curtis, and Hammer’s disastrous public apology, Xander recorded a video crying in a long, overblown rant that lost all grip on reality – which meant that it was incredibly successful on social media, and got nearly two hundred thousand views.
In his video, Xander slated the Tool Shed as being exclusionary and queerphobic in general, then linked the owners to the Hammer debacle by claiming their silence on Hammer was a betrayal of the LGBTQIA+ community. The few people who pointed out Curtis’s longstanding activism got slammed by Xander’s acolytes as apologists and even homophobes themselves.
Curtis took the approach of depriving the situation of oxygen, which he reiterates to us now as Ahmed carries over a bowl of grated parmesan.
‘I hate givin’ dumbasses more power than they deserve,’ Curtis explains, twirling his fork into his spaghetti. ‘We make him more powerful than he is by talking about him. Let’s not. Make him as irrelevant as he deserves to be. His opinions can’t hurt us.’
‘His opinions are popular, but,’ Charlie points out. ‘And so is he.’
‘His opinions are bollocks,’ Rex grunts.
‘Let’s forget about it.’ Ahmed wipes his hand on a tea towel and sinks into the chair beside Curtis, kissing him on the lips. ‘Bon appetit, my man. Hope you like it.’
‘Anything you make is always delicious, baby,’ Curtis says.
I love how they’ve been together so long and are still affectionate. My parents either lost that before I was born, or never had it to begin with.
