‘I’m serious, evil not-so genius. Maybe we should be a bit nicer to him. He’s obviously upset that Olivia got married.’
‘Oh, come on! In what universe would he have ever had a chance with her? Not only is she pretty and pretty awesome, but she’s also his boss.’
‘It happens,’ I answer with a light shrug. ‘People get off with their bosses.’
‘Stupid people.’
‘You can’t help who you fall in love with.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ she answers indifferently.
‘Your time will come.’ Did that make me sound ancient? It sounds like the sort of things old ladies tell you whether you want them to or not when you’re on the bus.
Your time will come.
Youth is wasted on the young.
Find a nice young man.
Bad boys grow up to be bad men.
Don’t sit on cold walls or you’ll get haemorrhoids.
I’m so pleased I drive these days.
‘I’m in no hurry,’ she says with a snort. ‘After what love did to you, love can jog on!’ To demonstrate, she hooks her thumb over her shoulder.
I smile tightly. You can’t explain love and loss to someone who’s never experienced it. Not that I’m saying I’m still grieving because I’m not. I’m just saying love bloody hurts, and I’m beginning to think it’s not worth it at all. I mean, look at my parents. Twenty-eight years of marriage and now they’re circling like dogs ready to tear out the other’s throat.
I flip away from the social media app I’ve been scrolling and open up my emails. Then close them again as I notice Cameron’s latest missive which, judging by the subject line, is
URGENT!!!
Not.
I delete without opening, and for once, I don’t feel that familiar twinge of panic, especially following his last missive when he had the nerve to complain about Heather’s charity shop prank. Apparently, he’d called Oxfam’s head office. Like I give a flying flip. Anyway, I’d blocked his number so there are no more threatening calls or texts to ignore.
Bliss!
‘Where will you be this weekend?’
I look up at her question, my expression twisting. ‘Home. The agency doesn’t have anything for me.’ And summer is coming to an end, and I’m concerned for the availability of gigs as fewer and fewer people jet off on holiday, which could mean more and more time spent at home for me.
Urgh!
‘Babe, just sell the ring. I love your parental units, I really do. But separately. Like when there’s a mile between them or something.’
‘Agreed. They take the fun out of dysfunctional.’
‘They used to be so sweet. Together, I mean.’
‘Yeah, and not that long ago. But now it’s all about who can hurt the other the most. I think he’s had an affair. My dad, I mean.’ My gaze slides to the window where a singular droplet of rain splats. ‘Not now, but maybe in the past. No one’s saying anything, but something’s tearing Mum apart. Maybe she just found out?’ I turn back to Heather. ‘Whatever, it’s like she won’t let it out.’ Except in virulent bouts of explosive hate directed at my father. ‘I wish they could just sell the house and be done with it. I can’t stay with them for more than a night or two. The atmosphere is just so toxic.’
‘You know you can crash at mine. My parentals love to have you there.’
I nod, trying for a small smile because while Heather’s parents are great, I just don’t have the mental fortitude to play “happy older cousin” to her three younger siblings right now.
‘Just sell it. Be done with it. Move on. Screw him and his unfaithful penis. Actually, scratch that last part.’
