not so super model pt.3
That Wednesday was dinner and a movie. I called in Indian. Korma, rice pilaf, nan bread with those little sweet bits.
He told me he didn’t like the look of circles under my eyes and I thought Nice of you to notice. I’ve had them for a while.
He asked “What’s wrong?” and I told him.
It was a three word whimper. A whimper is all you can manage when you hold onto something that long. He smiled and took my hand and for a second I could see him thinking ‘like family’. Then I said it again. He creased his face and went for a Budvar even though he didn’t drink.
I wished I’d ordered a Madras or maybe even an awful Vindaloo. Then I’d have a reason to get all teary. I always cried when I ate too hot curry and he knew it and wouldn’t have thought a thing about it. But I had korma and who cried into coconut milk?
We watched The Goonies. When he didn’t laugh at the truffle shuffle I knew it was bad. Three days later he turned it into a joke – because that’s what he did when he couldn’t cope.
“You’re only human.” He laughed a laugh that wasn’t his and tried to make light. I called him an idiot and bawled. Out loud. Hiccups. Runny nose. The works. I held back for two years. When I let go, I let go bad.
We went a week and didn’t speak. He said I was insane and needed time to get over the stress of exams and a bad break up (more on that later). Then he used the word sister (SISTER!) and said he was going to see Van Strudel. We’d talk when he got back.
It got worse.
