ignored what I had to say, but we didn’t fight exactly. I was too drunk – or drugged – to offer much resistance. I just wanted to go home to bed.
Did I say something else to her that I don’t remember? Perhaps when we got back we argued and I don’t remember it. I was so out of it, all I remember is feeling like I was going to be sick, my stomach squirming and bubbling like a cauldron on the boil and my vision blurring. The man – goddamn, what was his name? – helped me to the bathroom. I can still feel his arm locked around my waist. He almost had to haul me upright. But there’s nothing after he put me to bed except blankness, with the occasional shards of memory embedded like slivers of broken mirror that I don’t want to look at too hard in case they reveal glimpses of something I don’t want to see.
There was shouting. I can hear Kate yelling or screaming. Or am I imagining it?
I realise that Rob’s been talking this whole time I’ve been searching my memory. ‘What was that?’ I say.
‘I was asking where you went last night. Maybe Kate went back there. What if she lost her phone, left it there?’
‘Maybe,’ I muse, wondering why I hadn’t thought of it sooner. ‘But I think she had her phone,’ I tell Rob, remembering she used her phone to call a cab when we were outside the bar.
He’s planted the seed now though, and I wonder if I should head back to the bar to find out if Kate did go back for some other reason, maybe she left something else – not her phone, perhaps her wallet – or maybe after her marathon sex session she wanted to go out for more drinks. Maybe she hit up a club like she wanted to.
‘When did you see her last?’ Rob asks. ‘What time?’
‘Last night. I went to bed around two I guess.’ Should I tell him the truth now about the men we met – how Kate invited them back? ‘I was pretty drunk. I don’t remember much.’ As soon as I say the words I know it’s now too late to admit the full story. He’ll wonder why I held back from telling him to begin with and he’ll be suspicious.
‘Blimey,’ Rob says, ‘how much did you have to drink?’
I swallow and force a smile. ‘Oh, you know Kate, quite a bit. We had dinner then went to a bar.’
Rob raises his eyebrows, smiling. He knows what Kate’s antics can look like. But all I can see is the man with green eyes. What was his name? I wish I could remember. A bolt of nausea shoots through me as I remember that I thought about sleeping with him. I imagined what it would be like. I can hear Kate telling me to do it, encouraging me. What happens in Lisbon stays in Lisbon.
In the cold light of day as I look at Rob’s open, honest face and worried smile, I feel a huge wave of self-loathing. How could I have even considered it? And now it’s too late to tell him. He’ll think the worst of me and I don’t need to get into a fight with him. I’ve got enough on my plate worrying about Kate without having to deal with that too.
‘Do you think I should go to the police?’ I ask.
Rob pulls a surprised face. ‘What? No. It’s only been a few hours. She’ll turn up. You know Kate. She’s not exactly reliable. She’s probably lost track of time. That girl can party like the end of the world is coming.’
He’s right about that – but it’s not entirely fair to call her unreliable. She’s always on time for things and she does stick to her word.
She’s my best friend and has been for almost two decades, the first person I turn to when I need a shoulder to cry on or to have a bitch and moan, whether about work or relationship stuff. She always picks up the phone whenever I call and she sends me cheer-up texts when I’m down, silly things designed to make me laugh – videos of fruit porn or cats falling down stairs or Game of Thrones memes that posit that the age of men is over and heralding the end of the patriarchy.
‘Try to enjoy yourself,’ Rob says, jarring me back into the moment. I nod and