Page 70 of Unapologetic Love Story

‘Sure did. And you embarrassed me.’

‘You wouldn’t take your revenge, Raina. You didn’t punish him.’

‘Oh, Pep.’ Raina kicked off her shoes. ‘You didn’t do this for me. I love you. But be accountable. You did this because you had a ton of hurt you needed out, and you hate him.’

Raina could see the last little sliver of fight slip away from her friend. ‘Yes.’

‘What triggered it?’

‘I thought it would go differently.’

Raina wasn’t sure if she believed that, but she didn’t comment. Her revenge fantasies were swift and sweet. They fluttered through her mind before she went to sleep or while she was waiting in line at the post office. They never lingered for long.

Grandiose acts of retribution seemed attractive at first, but after twenty years of being outside of the tribe, Raina no longer felt the need to stand at the window and gaze in. The neurotypical party could rage on in the house; she would explore the grounds.

Also. Her fantasies of late were only and always filled with someone else. Not Matt Fletcher. Someone who was haughtily clever. Someone who was quick.

‘I’m sorry, Raina. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do anything like that again.’

They waited. Raina wondering if she could really forgive this so easily. Pepper, the rich girl who sometimes treated her friends like little paper dolls, realizing that she might have gone too far this time.

Raina took another tiny bite of cake and looked sternly at her friend. ‘Eat this cake with me. Say sorry again. Stay sorry. Promise me you’re going to go back to therapy.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE DISABILITY TRACK EPISODE #39

Guest: @TinyHux, queer and neurodivergent blogger

RAINA: How did being autistic affect dating for you?

TINYHUX: A girl I worked with asked me to her car one night. I went and we were just sitting there, laughing and chatting. She was really pretty. She was playing Fiona Apple and said that the current song always felt like “make-out music” to her, that it always made her feel in the mood. I think I just started talking about how the sonic composition of the song was interesting in its layering.

[Loud, prolonged laughter]

RAINA: Why are we like this?

Raina said goodbye to her best friend and her sister after some brunch in the kitchen sunlight. Solana quietly promised to stay out all night with a friend and find somewhere else to sleep. Raina then got as much filming done for the show as humanly possible, speaking at a higher word-per-minute level than any human had ever achieved before. Certainly, she hadn’t. She filed the footage and then crashed through her inbox, firing replies back to people with a curtness she hoped they would forgive.

She had a couple of hours before he was due to arrive. She decided to moisturize.

She put on her favourite album. She filled the tub with water close to boiling, letting the steam fill up the room, cloud the mirror and open her up. She scrubbed and rubbed with harsh sand and soft cream.

It was bliss. Sensory bliss.

She was startled out of the bliss by her phone ringing, the shrill sound echoing in the bathroom. She wiped her bubbled hand with a flannel and answered. ‘Hello?’

There was a pause before a woman’s voice said, ‘Ronda Lewis?’

‘No,’ Raina replied. ‘Raina.’

The woman made a small sound of irritation, as if her inability to get someone else’s name right was somehow Raina’s fault. ‘Whatever. I’m Amanda Nolan.’

She went on to identify herself as a journalist from a newspaper that Raina’s mother liked to read, but Raina thought unfit to line the compost bin. Amanda’s voice was filled with a strange mix of disdainful boredom and unearned familiarity. Raina felt every protective instinct she’d honed over the years spark inside of her, but she let the woman speak.

‘Well, you don’t have a publicist or an agent as far as I can see, so I thought I’d go right to the source.’

‘Lucky me.’