man is really into you? Well that was the vibe I was reading, and I said … I said … I said, “So, are we exclusive?”’ Her bottom lip trembles, cheeks flushing at the memory. She looks up at me with her wide tear-glazed eyes. ‘The mood changed right away. Oh my God, April. He honestly flinched like I’d just revealed I had fucking herpes or something. The first thing he did was take his arm away and didn’t look at me. And I started fucking backpedalling, saying shit I didn’t mean, like “don’t worry, I don’t mind if we label it or not”. Even though of course I fucking want to label it. That’s why I asked.’
‘What did he say?’
Her head sways like a pacing elephant in a zoo. ‘He said … he said …’ her voice is on the cusp of breaking again, ‘he said what he liked about me was that I wasn’t that type of woman. Well, that he thought I wasn’t. And that now he’s thrown that I was.’
‘What does he mean? What type?’
‘He said the insecure type. The type that needs to label it like that.’
I let out a sigh of exasperation. Honest to God, if we were able to put together all the air exhaled by the sighs of exasperated straight woman dealing with useless straight men then we could send an air balloon into fucking outer space. ‘What?’
‘I know, I know. So, of course, instantly I’m all like “oh yeah, I’m not like that at all.” Even though I am, THAT’S WHY I WAS HAVING THE CONVERSATION. And I fucking apologise. And he says “good”, and then goes back to acting all couply like it’s all sorted. I lasted two whole episodes of Breaking Bad before I broke. For two hours, April, I managed to contain it.’
‘That’s real progress.’
‘I know. I just sat there, trying to squash down all the questions and protests. Like, “does this mean you’re still sleeping with other people? And, what the hell am I supposed to do now? And who are these types of women who don’t want to know where things are going? Are they real? Because if they are I want to hunt them down and fucking slap them for ruining it for the rest of us”. And it was that really boring fly episode that so many Breaking Bad twats are obsessed with, which didn’t help. Anyway … I lost it. I burst into tears and started attacking him with the questions.’
I can picture the scene. Even though I’ve not met Malcolm since Calculus, I can see the bulge of his freaking-out eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in distaste, the calm snarl of his voice as he rationally explains why all of Megan’s emotional responses are, in fact, incorrect.
‘He just kept shaking his head, like I’d let the side down. He said I’d read too much into everything. When I pointed out that we’d spent almost all our time together, that I was practically living there, that we message every day, he had his mouth wide open like that was all nothing. He came back with all this stuff like, “yeah, but you’ve not met my friends” and “I thought this was just fun” and “I never said I was signing up for anything serious”. Oh, April, what’s wrong with me?’
‘Nothing!’
‘I just hallucinated a relationship.’
‘You didn’t! Anyone would’ve thought the same.’
Her crying starts up again. ‘Why did I do this to myself? I knew it was trouble when I started getting anxious. My instinct was spot on, and yet I hoped so much this time was different, that maybe because I wasn’t looking … because I didn’t think I cared … But I was just tricking myself. Because I do care, I DO.’
She cries and talks, cries and talks. Tea is made multiple times, and left unsipped, what with all the crying. Sometimes she’ll say, ‘Sorry, I’ve not even drunk any of that tea,’ and I make more, but then she’s crying too much when I get back with the fresh cup that it goes cold once more. The heat permeates the flat. We stay in our pants and T-shirts. I feel Joshua all over my body, inside my body. I want a shower but I can’t leave her when she’s like this. We psychoanalyse every minute interaction between her and Malcolm, looking for red flags she ignored, signals she could’ve picked up on. We pore over every detail she managed to glean about him