‘That is a good point,’ she looks thoughtful. ‘In that case, is a pussy too obvious?’
I shake my head. ‘No, I’ll let you have that, but you’ll have to be more specific. Sphynx? Siamese?’
‘Garfield,’ she says baldy. ‘Because my vagina hates Mondays.’ I giggle again as she adds,‘You?’
‘I think ...’ I squint, knowing this is very important. ‘Mine is a giraffe. Because it’s yellow and spotty with a long neck.’
We both laugh again, but silently. ‘Why do you think she’s a chinchilla?’ I whisper, pulling out my phone and Googling them.
We regard the picture. ‘They are very hairy,’ she says at last, in a serious tone.
‘And grey,’ I add thoughtfully. We lookat each other for too long a moment and simultaneously snort. An older woman on our right angrily shushes us.
We turn back to the film, which seems to be a detailed – and highly inaccurate – biology lesson. My phone lights up with a message from Mark and I click away from the poor, hairy chinchillas.
‘How’sLA? Miss you.’
I reply quickly. ‘I have accidentally joined a vagina cult,which would be fine, except they don’t even know the difference between vagina and vulva.’
His reply is quick. ‘Who does? Have you signed over all your money yet?’
‘I would’ve but they don’t accept Paypal,’ I type back. And he gives me aLOLfor my troubles.
I suddenly really miss my brother. I want to speak to him, to hear his voice. I slip away from the group and press call.
Mark is two years older than me, and then we have a sister, Hannah, who is a few years older again. The Early Mistake, as we call her, and which she very much enjoys.
I’m closer to Mark, but I am very fond of Hannah. Mostly because she’s such an oddball. Truly. Whereas Mark and I have grown up with the internet, she was just a little too old to ever fully accept or trust it. She is convincedit is watching her and monitoring her every move – which duh obviously it is doing that, but Millennials mostly don’t care, do they? She loves any kind of conspiracy theory – you name it, she believes it. Elvis isn’t dead; the moon landing was faked; the government is a secret race of lizard people; Princess Di was murdered by herin-laws; Finland doesn’t exist; Peppa Pig is Illuminati brainwashingpropaganda.
She sends round a monthly family newsletter sharing all her amazing thoughts on these topics – as well as tedious and embarrassing factoids about our relatives – but never ever click on a link she sends round. Your computer will never recover. Actually, I should send her the details of this place, she’d love it.
Mark, meanwhile, is an enigma. He is the world’s most evasivebest friend. He loves gossiping about me and my life, but he gives me almost nothing back. He just shrugs and smiles when I try to get him to open up. He’s been like that for as long as I can remember. Sometimes when I’m drunk, I grill his best mate to find out secrets, but Joe laughs and says he doesn’t know anything about Mark either. And they’ve known each other almost as long as me and Mark. Joelived one road over when we were little and is the happiest person I know. He’s one of those people who is always looking on the bright side of things and giving motivational speeches over brunch. Him and Mark actually make quite a strange, night andday-type of pairing, but it seems to work because I’ve never seen them fall out. Maybe being evasive and constantly turning things back around keepsa friendship safe. Or maybe not. Either way, it frustrates the hell out of me. Honestly, the only way I know Mark loves me is that he keeps getting in touch.
‘Hello dickhead,’ he answers quickly, sounding happy.
‘Hello yourself,’ I say, pleased. ‘Sorry for calling, I know you don’t approve of phones being used for calls.’
‘That’s fine,’ he laughs. ‘I don’t mind when it’s you.’
‘How is your sunburn?’ I say, not sure how else to reference his trip to Australia without getting into specifics.
‘Even, dark andnon-burny,’ he replies smugly. ‘Sorry Al, I know you burn in stripes. It’s really sweltering here.’
The moment – and thehere– hangs in the air.
‘Whatnon-vagina-y things have you been up to?’ he says, when the silence has stretched on too long.
I clearmy throat, staring off at the group on the other side of the hall, watching the brainwashing propaganda closely.
‘I went shopping where a woman shouted, “Have a great day” at me so aggressively that I am now really afraid of not having a great day,’ I say. ‘I feel like she will somehow know and she will find me and she will gouge out my eyes with expensive oak coat hangers.’
‘And you woulddeserve it.’
‘I know right. It’s strange, I’m just not used to everyone being so nice and friendly. And everyone speaks therapy. I sat in a coffee shop this morning listening to a man having a brilliant argument on the phone. He was saying, like, “I do appreciate you communicating where you’re at, but I do not feel valued by you.” I thought it was some street theatre at first, it was so great.My coffee got cold while I eavesdropped.’
‘I’m so jealous, I love listening to people’s conversations. It’s the only reason I go outside.’
‘I also visited Muscle Beach, which has got a veryBlackpool-in-October vibe. It’s such a strange place. On one side you have this very real, very stark homeless problem – and then on the other side, you have an entire shop dedicated to, like, toe rings.And there are extremely rude pants for sale everywhere you look.’
