She sighs. ‘I know.’ She looks sad.
‘Oh,Eva,’ I say, suddenly worried about her. ‘I miss you too. Are youOKthough? Really? Is it super weird, being pregnant? Are you feeling ill and being, like, sick everywhere all the time?’
‘I’m mostly over that bit,’ she says, rubbing her nipples again and looking pained.
‘Stop it,’ I scold and she drops her hands.
‘Sorry.’ She pauses. ‘No, I’m not being sick any more, although I amexhausted all the time. I’ve never known anything like it. It’s like having a fuzzy blanket wrapped around my brain. I thought I was meant to get allglow-y and full of life, but this is more like having a tapeworm stealing all my nutrients and energy.’
It’s a great analogy.
She sighs, before going on. ‘It’s just such a super weird idea to get my head round. I can’t get over the factthat I have a person growing in here,’ she gestures to her stomach like it’s separate to the rest of her. ‘It also feels a little bit like Jeremy gets all the fun bits. He gets taken off for celebratory drinks and claps on the back, while I’m not allowed to get drunk or even look like I’m having too much fun. Strangers feel up my belly and tell me judgementally that I shouldn’t take any drugs or haveany help during labour. And God forbid I have a sip of wine. Oh Alice, I really miss wine.’
I nudge an empty bottle on the desk beside me out of camera shot.
‘That does sound really tough,’ I say sympathetically, trying not to leap on the chance to slag Jeremy off. It’s interesting to hear Eva being the tiniest bit negative about him. They’ve always been so glossy and shiny as a couple.
They met last year on Tinder – yes, Tinder! They were literally the last people on earth to ever meet someone they really liked on Tinder – and Eva said she knew straight away that he wasitfor her. There were no games, she kept saying it like that was a good thing and not just boring. I mean, when did games get such a bad name? Games are great! Who doesn’t like Monopoly or charades, afterall? Anyway they spent basically every day together after their first date. He might not be my cup of tea, but I suppose I have to give him credit for how thoughtful he always was with their dates. He always went that extra mile, cookingthree-course meals for her and whisking her away on mini breaks. And he did make a pretty big effort with her weirdly huge family. There are aboutforty-fivefirst cousins in the Slate dynasty, who are all so posh you can’t even understand what they’re saying. Eva said Jeremy spoke to each and every one of them at thebi-annual Slate family gathering – and that was only a few weeks after they first met.
But just because he’s nice to a bunch of braying cousins, doesn’t mean him and Eva are right for each other. Because they’re not.
She inhalesdeeply. ‘It’ll be worth it, I know. That’s what everyone keeps telling me anyway. Everyone keeps saying it’ll be worth it and how the love is magical, and then in the same breath telling me the most awful horror stories about labour.’
She pauses and we both picture something bad.
‘But never mind all that,’ she adds quickly. ‘I’m just feeling sorry for myself. It’s the hormones. Pleasecheer me up, Alice. Tell me about the cool things you’ve been doing since you arrived.’
And so I do. I tell her about the excess of food and the excess of drinks. I tell her about the sandy morning walks along Venice Beach, which are full ofexhausted-looking Instagram husbands doing photo shoots for their partners, who insist on eight hundred versions of the same pose to perfectly capturethat casualcaught-unawares angle. I tell her aboutLA’s famous boutique road, Abbot Kinney, where I can only assume I couldn’t afford anything because there are no price tags. Not that it mattered either way because all the sizes go up as high as a whoppingfour.
I also tell her about my funny texts from that producer guy I met on my first night – Noah. They’ve been coming innon-stop, andthey’re great. I think I actually quite like him. I mean, I know I’m only here a month but it’s nice to have those butterflies when my phone buzzes. But I’m also very aware the messages don’t seem to be going anywhere. He hasn’t said any more about going on a date. I’ve casually mentioned meeting up a few times and he just changes the subject.
‘Do you know what his star sign is?’ she askssuddenly, dead serious. I roll my eyes. ‘No, Eva, I do not.’
‘I’m just saying, I could help you a lot more if I could do his star chart. That’s how I knew Jeremy was The One.’
Fucking Jeremy.
Something occurs to her and she adds in a worried voice, ‘Also, just to warn you, I did see the name Noah on a Facebook meme the other day. It was a list of men most likely to becommitment-phobes,and his name was, like, number seven.’
I laugh. ‘You believe in such crap, Eva.’ She looks sad again as the Skype connection fizzes. I raise my voice over the interference. ‘NAH, I THINK HE’S JUST ONE OF THOSE REALLY HOT FUCKERS WHO ONLY WANTS TO CHAT FOREVER AND NEVER WANTS TO ACTUALLY MEET UP. YOU KNOW THAT TYPE? THEY JUST WANT THE EGO BOOST WITHOUT ANY OF THE...’
‘BABE,’ anangry-sounding Isy interrupts us through the wall. ‘CAN YOU STFU PLEASE? I’M TRYING TO SLEEP.’
I cringe because she actually did say the lettersS-T-F-U, which is no more syllables than ‘shut the fuck up’, and did not save her any time to say.
‘OK, BUT NOW YOU’RE SHOUTING, TOO,’ I shout back, trying not to laugh. I really enjoy winding Isabelle up. It’s so easy.
‘I KNOW I AM BUT ONLY TO MAKEA POINT,’ Isy yells.
‘POINT MADE,’ I yell back. ‘SORRY DUDE. I’LL TRY TO KEEP IT DOWN IN FUTURE, YEAH?’ On the screen in front of me, Eva is covering her mouth, trying not to snort. She knows Isy well.
‘THANK YOU,’ she screams back.
‘ISY?’ I bawl, enjoying the noise. ‘BABE? COULD YOU ALSO KEEP IT DOWN NOW THOUGH? I’M TRYING TO SKYPE EVA?’
‘STFU, ALICE, YOU’RE NOT FUNNY.’
‘SHHHHHHUSH,’ I shout, and then collapse in giggles. Eva is wiping tears away and I give her an exaggerated shrug.
