Page 86 of To Hell With It
She stopped when she saw me, a kind look in her beautiful blue eyes.
‘Are you lost?’ she asked, and I probably should have just told her there and then but I couldn’t bring myself to ruin her perfect life.
‘Sort of,’ I said because I was, sort of.
‘Where are you headed?’
Right here, I thought.
‘The beach,’ I said quickly.
‘You’re a little way out from the coast.’ She laughed and I noticed her perfect white teeth. ‘The nearest beach is Papamoa, about six kilometres away.’
‘Ah, OK, thanks,’ was all I managed.
‘Do you know where that is?’
‘Not really,’ I admitted.
‘Hold on, let me draw you a map.’
She disappeared and I stood outside Jack’s house in my mustard dress that fanned out at the sides. I could feel the sting of my sandals that had already started to rub my heels. I should have been inside that house with Jack not outside with blisters on my feet.
And the house? Well, the house had ocean blue windows didn’t it? Because she had to have my windows as well as Jack, didn’t she? I couldn’t see inside because they were tinted just enough to keep prying eyes like mine out. But I could see an enormous cream vase on a hall table because she, Emily, Jack’s fiancée, had left the door slightly open, like she was teasing me (but of course she wasn’t, because she didn’t have a clue who I was). Bright pink flowers spilled boldly out of it, and I imagined the whole house smelt of them – sickly sweet and perfect like her.
There were three windows upstairs facing the immaculate front lawn, all with roman blinds that hung just low enough to tease rooms that I imagined to be filled with expensive furniture, mismatched in all the right ways. I shifted uncomfortably, aware that Jack could be inside or that he could turn up at any moment.
When Emily came out, she passed me a hand-drawn map scribbled on a piece of paper, with a shopping list titled ‘BBQ’ ticked off on the back. My eyes scanned over it: avocados, feta cheese, sundried tomatoes, sausages, prawns, olives, bloody olives. But it wasn’t a list for us, no. It never was going to be was it? It was for them, a BBQ on the beach for Jack and Emily. Their names sounded like something out of a film, the perfect couple, living the perfect life. I felt sick.
‘Oh, the maps on the other side,’ Emily laughed lightly. And as I turned the list around, I stared at my bitten-down nails already knowing hers would be as perfect as her teeth. I caught a glimpse of her ring then – I think until then I still hoped that maybe Una and Mr Dutson might have got it wrong. That Jack might spring out from behind her and shout ‘surprise!’ A sick joke that Una had been in on that I would have forgiven in a heartbeat if it meant none of it was true. Only it wasn’t a joke and there was no surprise, only the awful one I was the star of.
The ring was as dainty and delicate and stunning as her and I suddenly felt like a frump in my mustard dress that fanned out at the sides. Close up, she was even more beautiful. I could see why Jack was going to marry her. I’d have married her too. I wondered where she worked, (I knew it wouldn’t be in a village shop) or if she counted woodlice on her drive, or stuffed socks in her bra (she definitely didn’t, by the way, her tits were massive).
I scrunched the map in the palm of my own sweaty hand, thanked her with a smile that made my insides twist, and then turned and left. And it wasn’t until I was out of sight that the tears came. They swirled like a giant wave that filled my body until I felt like I might explode. And then I did.
* * *
Did you see him?
I read Una’s text.
No, I saw her though.
OMG! Did you tell her?
No.
Why not?
I don’t know. She was so pretty, Una.
Pretty stupid if she’s marrying him.
I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.
It’s not your fault.
I slept with him.
