We are all a bit crumpled and tired as we file back on board our boat for the second day of exploring the Golden Triangle along the river.
My hangover is colossal but I have to admit, it was a great night. We got to the hotel in the early evening, after a day on the water. It was up a hill, and we were a bit drunk, so therewas a lot of pushing each other up and falling over giggling.
After checking into the hotel, there was this amazing ceremony outside, where a bunch of local kids performed a traditional dance for tourist tips. We sat in a circle watching them, and staring up at the sky contemplating our existence.
Like, what does anything matter, really? Why do we get so bogged down and bothered aboutthe small boring Life Things like paying bills and bleeding radiators, when this kind of magic exists in the world? Not that I’ve ever bled a radiator in my life – is that still a thing adults are meant to do?
Afterwards, Clara said she was going off with Jan, so I insisted on seeing his passport to check he was definitely actually eighteen. I didn’t want any statutory things interruptingmy trip. Or y’know, young people being exploited or whatever. As soon as they’d gone, Eva excused herself to call Jeremy. We were sharing a room and I could tell she needed space to talk things through properly, so I stayed in the bar downstairs. Luckily, there was a massive group of Canadians in there, all on a stag do and they invited me to join them. So I latched onto them and had a great nightlosing at foreign drinking games. It was fun.
Less so this morning, which has been a hard, hungover slog.
Eva was asleep by the time I finally got up to bed, and I haven’t had a proper chat with her yet this morning – but I suspect the conversation with Jeremy went well. I’m guessing there was huge amounts of happy crying because her eyes are swollen to fuck. She is glowing with joy andI’d hazard a guess that they’re back together and all is right in the world.
As Eva and I take a seat on the boat, tired but happy, Clara and Jan reappear, looking shagged, in all the different senses.
‘Morning you two,’ I say loudly, grinning. ‘Nice night?’ The family from the day before – still wearing their matching waterproof anoraks – glance over anxiously, aware of the directionthe conversation is likely going.
Clara takes a seat beside us, not smiling, and Jan sits beside her. They don’t answer my teasing question and the cloud of anger hovering over them is opaque. They are very clearlymid-fight.
Well, that honeymoon didn’t last very long.
Eva and I exchange an awkward grimace. A frosty silence falls across our group and I clear my throat, staring offinto the middle distance. Anorak Family look uncomfortable.
The boat pulls away from the dock and my internal organs make a protesting groan. I can actually feel my liver pickling inside me. I think I’m done with the binge drinking for a while. I’ve put in my time, I’ve committed to it, I think I’ve earned a few weeks off.
Eva shifts in the plastic seat next to me. No one knows what tosay. Clara coughs aggressively, like she didn’t need to cough but she wanted to make the point that she was there and she was angry.
Jan gets up abruptly. ‘Does anyone want a drink?’ he snarls and stomps off before we can answer.
I mean, hestompsas much as anyone who weighs, like, seven stone can.
It’s actually really elegant.
‘Are youOK?’ I murmur to Clara.
She shrugs,clearly not. ‘We had such a lovely night together,’ she says unhappily. ‘We stayed up most of the night and he kept saying how much he liked me and that he could not believe I wasn’t Spanish. I know he is a few years younger than me, but he seemed so mature and sweet, didn’t he?’
I make anon-committal noise that I hope both conveys support for Clara and also distances myself from the ideaof finding him attractive. This being the kid who yesterday spoke at length about shitting himself. Each to their very own.
She sighs. ‘We finally fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms. It was magical. Until I woke up and he was on his phone. I glanced up and he was on Tinder speaking to someone else. He was sexting some other random woman while I was asleep next to him,post-coitus.’
‘They have Tinder here?’ I say, startled. She shoots me a murderous look because of course that is not really the point.
Eva chips in, ‘Or maybe he’s just got his distance settings really wide? Like, to cover the entire world?’
She has missed the point, too.
I quickly put my arm around Clara. ‘I’m so sorry, lovely. What a prick! What did you say? Did you have a fight?’
Shenods, looking a bit tearful. ‘Yes, I went mad at him, and he didn’t even say sorry. He just got really defensive, saying he can do what he likes. He shouted at me that he doesn’t need anyone and is better off alone. That he didn’t owe me anything and I was just aone-night stand. But that’s not what he’d said at all the night before – he had practically been telling me he loved me! And then heshouted that I was just being a “bunny boiler”. I don’t really know what that means but I am a vegetarian, so then I got really cross.’
‘Ugh,’ I say. ‘Bunny boiler is a disgusting, sexist thing that gaslighting men say just to hurt and dismiss women. Men should know better than to use that term any more.’
She looks even more confused. ‘Gaslighting? Because of his problem with the bowels?He only went to the toilet three or four times last night, it was not an issue. It didn’t ruin any of the sex.’
I shake my head, feeling sick again. ‘No, gaslighting is a thing people – narcissists – do, where they make you feel crazy when you are having legitimate human feelings. Like, when someone is cheating on you and they make you feel like you’re going mad to cover up their lies, insteadof being honest. It’s like alevelled-up type of negging.’
‘TDused to do that to you a lot,’ Eva says confidently, beside me.
