‘Do you think it might be because you’re used to dickheads?’ he says, and his tone is a little cold. ‘Do you think it might be because you have decided somewhere inside you that “nice” – someone who doesn’t treat you like pond scum – must be boring? You’ve decided that a relationship without dramaisn’t a real relationship. That “love” has to be traumatic and awful? You’ve been so trained by that prickTDand Kit before him – so brainwashed into thinkingthatis love – you think that someone who is simply kind and sweet to you can’t be serious or real?’
Oof. I guess there is some residual resentment here between us, after all.
‘Like, that shitty Bumble date you told me about inLA,’ he says, and he’s suddenly very angry. ‘Why the fucking fuck did you not leave the moment he called youfat? I know you don’t care about that word, but that’s not the point, is it? He was trying to be cruel and you took it, happily. It’s like you want to be punished, like you wanted to stay and be flagellated some more. You even told me beforehand that he was a dirtbag – you actually said that’swhat you wanted – and then you complained when that’s exactly what he was. It’s absolute bullshit, Alice.’
‘All right, Jesus!’ I say, my voice raised. ‘Don’t hold back, will you? Do you want to dissect my faults any more? I left the date eventually.’
He grabs me by the shoulders and looks at me sternly. ‘Alice, I’m serious. You specifically choose men who fuck you over. You stick aroundand let them treat you like shit. You even did it with the trolls on your dumb pretentious blog. How long did it take you to block all those losers calling you names and threatening to rape you? Months! Why? Because somewhere early on – naming no names, er,MUM– you watched a relationship where a woman was treated badly and used up by her partner, and you learntthatwas love. You learnt thatyou didn’t deserve something decent and good.’ He is almost shouting.
Everything in me is fighting back against his words. My chest is tight and my hands are shaking. I don’t want to listen; I don’t want to hear it. Tears start rolling down my cheeks, but he doesn’t stop.
‘I’ve had enough of watching you push people away – I’m sick of it,’ he says and he does sound sick of it. His wholevoice is weary and sick. ‘You have the patience of a saint when it comes to shitty people likeTD, but you walk away from the people who actually care about you. Or you’re mean to them, like you are with Eva.’
‘What?’ I am shocked. ‘I’m not mean to Eva!’
‘You can be, Alice,’ he insists, but he says it a little more kindly. ‘You say things harshly and laugh at her when she mentions herhoroscopes or memes. She would never tell you this herself, but it hurts her when you’re critical of her. When you mock her family. I’ve seen that look on her face when you laugh at her. You have a tendency to be overly critical. You don’t seem to realise that things can really cut. You push people away because something in you thinks they’re going to leave you, and you figure you might as well shovethem off the cliff before they jump.’
I am reeling. That’s not true. I tease Eva, but it’s how we’ve always been. We joke around. I don’tpushher offcliffsfor God’s sake! Except I did push her away, didn’t I? I know I did, I admitted to it. The moment it seemed like she might be leaving me, I left her.OK, so yes, I am afraid of people leaving me. But isn’t everyone?
‘What about youthen, Mark?’ I say and I am fighting back tears. I thought I was all cried out last night, but apparently not. ‘Because yes, I might push people away or date idiots occasionally, but you avoid love altogether. Is that any better? Pretending that part of life doesn’t exist at all – is that healthy? You haven’t dated anyone in twenty years, Mark. Is that normal?’
‘Better than going out withmorons, like you do,’ he spits.
‘Maybe, maybe not, Mark,’ I say, but some of the fight has drained out of me. All of a sudden I just feel tired and sad. ‘It isn’t even the lack of dating, Mark,’ I say quietly. ‘If you were happy on your own, I wouldn’t care about it, but you never even talk to me about it. It makes me feel so awful that you don’t want to share that part of your life with me.We are so close and I’ve never wanted to push you into talking about things if you didn’t want to, but I feel really crap about it.’
There is silence between us, and at last he reaches over and takes my hand.
‘Stop making this all about you,’ he says at last, and he sniggers.
‘Stop making it not all about me,’ I laugh at the callback to our last fight in Thailand. The tension betweenus eases. I sniff loudly. ‘I know you’re right about me pushing the good people in my life away,’ I admit, slowly. ‘But I’m working on it. And I’m done with the shitheads, I promise. I blocked the online trolls, didn’t I? I haven’t even thought aboutTDin weeks. I think I’m genuinely over him, at last. And I’ll go on a date with Noah back in London I promise. You’re right, I have this shittybrainwashing thing that tells me love can only be fucked up. He isn’t actually boring, he’s nice.’
I pause. ‘And I’ll stop being mean to Eva. I feel awful, I didn’t realise it bothered her.’
He nods. ‘I don’t think it does, not really,’ he concedes. ‘She adores you, and you are a good friend. She’s just so sweet and innocent, I sometimes worry that you will hurt her without realising.You’re so smart, Alice, and I don’t think you notice how your words can be hurtful.’ There is a heavy silence, while we both consider things.
‘And I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you about my love life,’ he says at last, staring at the floor. ‘I don’t know how or why I’ve ended up here. As this person. I guess ... well, I was shy – a late starter – when it came to accepting myself. I was afraidof what being gay meant. Steven’s Neanderthal tendencies didn’t help. When he got drunk he would use nasty words, call me a “fag” and stuff, so I was scared to actually come out to him and Mum for a long time. And then I thinknot talkingbecame a habit. I have been afraid of sharing things. Plus, Mum and Steven’s dysfunctional relationship affected me, too, of course it did. You only went outwith awful men – that was your take home from them. Me, I assumed all men were awful and avoided them altogether. Neither of us have been very healthy when it comes to our relationships, have we?’
He smiles at me now, my cocky, silly, funny brother.
I shake my head slowly and lean my head on his shoulder.
‘Right,’ he takes a deep breath. ‘Enough of this shouting at each other. We’reboth fucked up, but who isn’t, right? And let’s make a pact to make more of an effort to be ever so slightlylessmessed up in future. You’re going to stop pushing people away and be kinder. I’m going to start dating, and actually talk to you about my romantic endeavours. And if we can’t manage not to be dicks, we’ll at least always talk to each other about it,OK?’
‘OK, agreed,’ I say, feelingemotional but happy.
‘So then, what are you going to reply to Noah?’ he says decisively, taking my phone off me. ‘Let’s compose a text, and then ...’ he takes another big, deep breath. ‘Then, I think you should help me write a text.’
I look up at him, my smile getting bigger.
‘To Joe?’ I say hopefully and he nods shyly.
‘To Joe,’ he confirms.
