TBF to Tiramisu Girl, I’ve wanted to hide under a table so many times. I feel her pain.
Fran
Me too. But I don’t think anything’s going to save her job now…
CHAPTER FOUR
‘SAM!’ I yell out into my apartment as I open the front door, desperately needing the immediate comfort and reassurance of my favourite person.
‘In here, babe,’ she shouts from the living room. I enter to find her standing still on the arm of the sofa in the corner of the room. She has her arms raised in the air, hands like claws, and a goofy expression on her face. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth and her eyes are crossed. On her back, she is wearing giant plastic wings.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask after a moment of stunned silence.
She puts her tongue back in her mouth. ‘Duh! I’m a daddy long-legs!’ She sounds exasperated. ‘I’ve come to take more videos of you and share them online.’ She pauses. ‘I thought it might distract you from your unbelievably shitty day.’
She resumes the pose, tongue hanging out of the side ofher mouth like an inbred Yorkshire Terrier. When I still don’t react, she jumps down from her chair and starts chasing me around the room. I shriek and run away – and despite everything, I am laughing.
‘It’s not funny to mock my terror,’ I scream through mirthful tears. ‘You knobhead.’ She collapses on the sofa, crushing her wings, and I sit beside her, still laughing. ‘You’re the best.’
‘I know.’ She closes her eyes.
‘I love you.’ I close my eyes, too.
‘Fuck off,’ she says mildly, and I reopen one eye.
‘Where did you get the wings?’ I take them in. They look familiar.
‘You wore them last Halloween,’ she confirms, thick, dark eyebrows raised. ‘When you were dressed as a slutty fairy.’
‘I was just dressed as a fairy, actually,’ I point out. ‘Any sluttiness was all me.’
‘Fair enough,’ she acknowledges. She leaves a beat, then turns to face me on the sofa. The left wing bends in half and I wonder if it will break. I consider asking her to take them off. If I’m going to be out of a job, I can’t just re-buy fairy wings every Halloween, can I? She reaches over to poke me in the shoulder. This is Sam’s idea of spontaneous affection. ‘Are you okay?’
I wonder how to answer this. I want to tell her the truth, but I don’t know how I feel right now. Not after that second conversation with Spencer.
‘Did you see a second video went up?’ I ask after a moment.
She nods gravely. ‘I did.’ She raises her eyebrows. ‘I actually think you came off better in that one. Very relatable.’ She pauses, waving open palms. ‘I mean, whohasn’twanted to eat cheesecake under a table? Plus, Cheesecake Woman is a much cooler nickname than Tiramisu Girl.’ She shrugs. ‘At least everyone knows what cheesecake is.’
‘Do peoplereallynot know what tiramisu is?’ I ask, baffled. ‘Are some people not obsessed with boozy, creamy desserts like me?’
‘I guess not.’ She shrugs, sinking into the sofa. It squishes the wings even more and I frown. Now I’ve remembered I own them, I want to be able to wear them again. Next Halloween I could dress up as Cheesecake Tiramisu Daddy Long-legs Girl.
‘Did you read the comments?’ I ask quietly, and she nods.
‘Do you not want to cry or whatever?’ she asks nicely. ‘I know you love crying.’
‘I do love crying,’ I confirm, nodding. ‘But no, not this time. I don’t know, I feel… sort of hollow. Empty. A meat sack.’
‘Like a Scotch egg without the egg because eggs are disgusting,’ Sam comments in a wise voice.
‘Erm, sure, yes, like that.’ I nearly laugh again. Sam’s very anti eggs. ‘All hollowed out apart from my sausage meat.’ I sigh. ‘But at the same time, my stomach feels all spiky. I feel really sick, but also numb.’
‘I expect you’re in shock.’ She continues quietly, ‘I watched the show –Morning Tea– earlier I noticed you weren’t onat your usual time…’ She pauses. ‘They haven’t… you’re not… they didn’t…?’
‘No, not fired.’ I fill in the blank, then add quickly, ‘Not quite.’ She breathes a sigh of relief, before I add, ‘Except I probably am.’ I shake my head. ‘Spencer, the cunty little frog, says I have to go totherapy. Can you imagine? He says the only way I’m going to keep my job on the show is to spend the next six weeks in therapy. It’s rubbish. It’s a bunch of pandering nonsense that people would see straight through! Iama therapist for god’s sake! And they’re saying I have to go speak to some parachuted-in counsellor. It’s pure nonsense. Complete bullshit!’
Sam nods slowly. ‘I can see you’re upset,’ she says carefully, and I want to knock away the therapy words pouring out of her therapised mouth. Doesn’t she know I can hear them? That I know them inside out?
