My Best Friend Has Issues (8 page)

In the restaurant Chloe hadn’t seemed that interested but on the way back to the flat she asked me questions about the dead boy. I thought I would, but I didn’t mind going over it again. It was good to get it out.

The last time something bad happened, I didn’t tell anyone, I couldn’t. The educational psychologist said this was due to the trauma I’d suffered and that my reaction, a kind of lethargic
acceptance
of everything, was normal. I’d come out of it in my own time, she said, but I didn’t. Lethargic acceptance suited me; it made life easy, if uneventful. It wasn’t trauma that made me lethargic, it was secrecy.

But this time I hadn’t kept it secret. I’d told Chloe and the sky didn’t fall in. It wasn’t healthy to keep secrets, they kept burning inside you. All these years I’d been slow cooking from the inside out.

Once I’d begun telling her I couldn’t stop, going over it detail by detail. Chloe was very patient and supportive. She asked if I’d touched him, or anything else at the scene, if anyone had seen me on the stairwell. I told her no, and I asked her about my bloody shoe prints.

‘D’you think those might incriminate me?’

‘Aw honey, how can it? You saw a dead boy, is all. You’re not to blame, you did nothing wrong. You’re only a bystander, not even a useful witness. What’s to incriminate? You didn’t know this boy, you have no motive, how could anyone connect you to it? The best thing you can do is try to forget about it.’

‘I don’t know if I can forget about it but I’m glad I got it off my chest.’

I stopped walking and, to stop Chloe, I put my arm out across her waist. She stopped and looked me in the eye.

‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’

‘Alison,’ Chloe said, taking my hand and placing it on her heart, ‘I swear on my mom’s life that I won’t tell anyone. You can tell me anything you want and I promise I’ll never tell.’

I copied her gesture and took her hand and put it over my heart.

‘Chloe, I feel the same, I want you to know that.’

‘We’re friends now, room-mates,’ she said, ‘we look out for each other. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ I smiled.

When we got to back to the flat Chloe immediately set to clearing drawers for my clothes. She threw her clothes on the bed and then emptied out my rucksack.

‘Hey, neat backpack,’ she said, ‘where d’you get it?’

‘Och, you’re kidding. I got this rucksack in Asda at George.’

‘What, is he, like, a designer?’

‘It’s a brand name, at Asda. Part of the Wal-Mart family.’

‘You have Wal-Mart in Scotland?’

‘Yes, Scotland’s a far-flung outpost of the American empire.’

‘I can’t believe this is from Wal-Mart! Girl, you’ve got some style.’

‘Cheers.’

She was being nice. With both our clothes piled together it was obvious which were the designer labels and which were the cheap high street copies. Chloe worked hard to put me at my ease, as if she wanted to settle me in before I changed my mind. I wasn’t going to change my mind but I felt a bit uncomfortable not paying rent. Chloe also picked up the bill at lunch. Thank God she did, it was a hundred and sixty-four euros by the time we’d had the brandy.

I wouldn’t exploit her generosity though; I’d pay her back in full as soon as I started earning. I’d make myself useful around
the flat and be a good friend. Another benefit of living here was that now I’d be able to return the money I’d taken. There might even be a Victoria’s Secret outlet in Barcelona where I could buy a replacement set of underwear. Everything could be fixed and Chloe need never know.

I could hardly believe my luck or Chloe’s generosity, but felt I understood it. Chloe didn’t want to live alone in this city any more than I did. In this strange situation, in this terrifying but amazing place, we were perfect for each other.

There was only the one enormous bed in the flat. I insisted I could sleep on the couch or even outside on the terrace, it was certainly warm enough.

‘Oh yeah, it’s warm enough,’ she said sarcastically, ‘and the
mosquitoes
are gonna love ya.’

I hadn’t thought of that. I cast my mind back to my first night in the hostel and the fuss the foreign woman made about closing the window. The mosquitoes must be bad. Before we went out for lunch Chloe put the air conditioning on in the bedroom for the dogs and it felt deliciously cool.

‘Look, try it, there’s plenty of room, we can both fit comfortably, it’s fine. You lie there.’

I lay where I was told, on one side of the giant bed. Chloe lay on the other side.

‘See? There’s plenty of room, even when we both spread out.’

It was true, the bed was enormous.

‘Well, if it’s okay with you. But if your boyfriend stays over I can sleep on the couch.’

‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’

‘Oh, I thought… Weren’t you supposed to go to Vietnam with your dad and your boyfriend?’

‘Oh yeah. No, we broke up.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame.’

‘No it isn’t. I don’t want a boyfriend, I just wanna pick boys up when I want one.’ She screwed up her face, ‘does that sound really bad?’

‘No,’ I said, my expression neutral, ‘that sounds reasonable.’

We hadn’t discussed Chloe walking in on Ewan and me but now we skirted around it.

‘I do have one house rule,’ she said, ‘I don’t want guys in this apartment. I don’t want ‘em to know where I live or anything about me.’

‘That’s absolutely fine,’ I said, ‘not a problem.’

‘It’s the only rule I make.’

‘Honestly, it’s fine by me.’

‘Good,’ she said with a decisive nod. ‘Wanna go to the park? We could take Juegita, she could use the exercise. You won’t believe how many guys hit on you when you have a cute dog. Two hot babes like us can easily pick up a couple of Latino boys. Ever had a Latin lover, Alison?’

‘No, I haven’t had that pleasure.’

‘Well, what are we waiting for?’

I wasn’t so sure. I was still stinging from Ewan’s brutal rejection earlier, but I wanted to show willing.

‘I’ll come, but I wouldn’t count on pulling boys when you’re with me. They usually run in the opposite direction.’

‘Oh come on, Alison!’ cried Chloe, and then slyly added, ‘I think you’re underestimating the cuteness of the dog.’

‘This bed is so comfy,’ I said, ‘the brandy’s making me sleepy.’

‘Okay, let’s take a siesta,’ Chloe yawned. ‘We can pick up boys later. Juegita!
Ven aqui
.’

All the dogs scrabbled out from under the bed; Juegita,
delicately
ladylike despite her sagging teats, and her pups with their fat little bodies, all eager to get on the bed with us. Juegita leapt and joined us but the pups could only mewl and claw at the sides.

‘Okay,’ Chloe groaned, leaning down and scooping them on to the bed one by one, ‘let’s see just how many girls this bed can take.’

Juegita snuggled into me and kept trying to lick my face. I was becoming accustomed to the doggy smell but I wasn’t keen on her licking me. I tried to subtly turn my face aside whenever I saw her tongue appear. Chloe was giving me a home; I didn’t want her to think I was rejecting the friendly overtures of her beloved pet.

‘Chloe, you know how Juegita did a jobby on the terrace?’

Two of the puppies were walking across her chest. Chloe had her eyes closed and held up her hand while she asked a question.

‘Hold on a minute here: does ”did a jobby” mean ”take a dump”?’

‘Sorry, yes. Exactly.’

‘Hmm,’ she said sleepily, ‘I like that.’

‘It’s just that I’ve noticed that the puppies don’t. Take a dump, that is.’

‘That they don’t ‘take a jobby’?’

‘
Do
a jobby.’

‘Whatever,’ said Chloe. ‘They do, but believe me, you don’t wanna know. It’s too gross.’

Juegita continued to lick my face and was now trying to lick my lips.

‘I haven’t seen any puppy-sized jobby.’

‘Oh, they shit all right, but Juegita cleans it up.’

‘Wow!’ I said looking at Juegita. Unfortunately this glance
allowed
her a direct hit, a slurp of her long tongue right across my open mouth. ‘How does she manage that?’ I asked.

‘She eats it.’

There were three of us in the bed. Chloe, me and a guy. The guy was lying on top of Chloe. The guy didn’t have a shirt on, I could see his bare skin. His head hovered over Chloe’s and he was kissing her. He pushed forward an inch and moved back again. He did it again, rocking slowly forward and back. Chloe was making noises, uh, and oh. They were doing it. Chloe saw me and smiled. The guy carried on, hovering on top of her, forward and back. I could only see the back of his head, his dark curly hair, but when he turned I realised that I knew him. It was him, Bashed Head Boy. I laughed, he was alive. He smiled too but as he turned towards me I saw that there was something in his eye. He saw the horror on my face and while he continued to rock back and forth on top of Chloe, while he was fucking her and she lay smiling, he put his fingers around the twig and tugged. With a dreadful sucking sound his eye plopped out and dangled on his cheek from its stalk.

I woke up. Chloe was standing over me with a concerned look on her face.

‘You okay?’ she asked. ‘You were whimpering.’

‘Och, just bad dreams.’

‘About the boy?’

‘Yeah, kind of.’

‘It’s just your brain processing it.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Come on, let’s get up and do stuff. Try and get it off your mind for a while.’

Chloe was playing a CD, the music must have woken me. She sat on the edge of the bed in her bra and knickers, a small vanity mirror balanced on her knee. At first I thought she was putting on make-up but she was chopping white powder on the mirror with a credit card and singing along to the salsa music.

She smiled, ‘
Buenas tardes, Señorita
.’

‘
Buenas tardes
.’

She rolled a twenty-euro note and sniffed up a line. ‘
Vamos a bailar
!’ she yelled enthusiastically.

‘Sorry?’ I asked. I should have never attempted to reply in
Spanish
, it was only asking for trouble. ‘I don’t know what that means.’

‘It means let’s get cained and go dancing!’

I tried to sit up but my head felt too heavy. I groaned. Chloe tapped the mirror with the rolled-up note. Some powder fell out, which she quickly hoovered up through her nostril.

‘This should sort you out,’ she said, handing me the mirror.

There was another line on it. I had never gotten cained before. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I was lying in an awkward position holding the mirror but I couldn’t lift my head.

‘Oh there she is!’ said Chloe, extracting a sleeping puppy that had become entangled in my hair. ‘I knew there was one more.’

My head suddenly felt light and free. I sat up and held the
rolled-up
note tentatively to my nose, fingering both ends of it, testing for dampness.

It wasn’t so much that I was scared. I knew the health risks, especially to my fragile organs and the chances of addiction: the rest of my life spent shoplifting or selling my arse for my next hit, but that wasn’t the problem. I just didn’t fancy putting something which had been inside Chloe’s nose, inside mine. It was way too soon to be exchanging nasal mucus.

‘Are you gonna snort that line?’

‘Course I am,’ I said and bent my head.

‘There’s other ways, you know. You can put it under your tongue or rub it on your gums, I love doing that but it’s sooo gonna give you gum disease.’

I had to smile; this obsession with dental health was so American.

‘Roll it into a joint and smoke it if you want. Or push it up inside you with your finger, that’s nice, different. But the quickest way’s to snort.’

‘No, snorting’s fine for me.’

I shoved the rolled note a bit further up my nose than was really necessary, making my eyes water. I closed off my other nostril and inhaled slowly. I managed to get most of it on my first attempt.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel but it had absolutely no effect whatsoever.

Chloe handed me a glass of water. I guzzled it down in one, surprised by my thirst.

‘So, whaddaya think?’ she asked me.

‘Yeah, nice,’ I said nodding, as though I was a cocaine
connoisseur
. I didn’t want to tell her that she’d wasted her money.

‘Club Cubana will be open tonight, we could go there.’

‘Oh, dancing. Okay. What time is it?’

‘Five after ten, we slept for hours.’

‘Ten!’

‘Ten’s early for Barcelona,’ said Chloe. ‘Things don’t start around here until midnight at least. We can get some dinner and then go dancing.’

‘I’m not very hungry.’

‘Me neither, it’s the cocaine.’

Chloe and I cha-cha-chad around the bedroom getting dressed. I first tried on my blue dress, the dress I’d arrived in Barcelona in. I could keep cool in this if we were going to be doing a lot of dancing.

‘D’you think this is okay, Chloe?’

‘Mmm, it a cute colour, it really goes with your hair but, maybe it’s kinda daywear?’

‘Yeah, too daywear,’ I agreed.

I made a mental note that in future I’d buy clothes in this colour but a different style. I next tried my short white jeans with a long lemon top. I’d never worn the top before. Chloe was reluctant to give her opinion but I insisted.

‘Separately they’re great, I’m just not sure they work together,’ she said, ‘but hell, wear whatever you want, the important thing is to feel good.’

‘No, you’re right, I trust your judgement, you’re the artist.’

I kept with the white jeans and swapped to a strappy top in a stronger colour, a shimmering dark blue.

‘That’s pretty.’

She was just saying that to be nice. I could tell she didn’t like this outfit either. And anyway, I didn’t want to look pretty. I wanted to look sexy, like Chloe. Chloe would look sexy in a T-shirt, how could I compete?

‘No,’ I decided, ‘I don’t like it. It looks terrible. I look terrible.’

I’d run out of options. I had arrived in Barcelona with a rucksack full of drab daywear.

‘Shut up! You do not look terrible!’ Chloe said. ‘Look, you can borrow something of mine if you want, I have a million outfits in that closet that’ll look amazing on you. Take what you want. No, better yet,’ she said, getting excited, ‘I’m gonna give you a makeover,
clothes, make-up, hair, the works. I think a Latina look could really work for you. Oh, this is gonna be great! You’re gonna look like America’s Next Top Model when I’m done.’

Chloe said all of this at top speed. She stood on the bed and pulled me up with her. We clasped hands and jumped, bouncing on the mattress and squealing as though we were ten years old. I was laughing because this was so ridiculously funny but also because Chloe had begun to hold herself between the legs.

‘I’m gonna pee!’ she shrieked.

This had the effect of making me need to pee too. I jumped off the bed and ran towards the toilet. It seemed a hilarious idea to get there before her and not let her in but I’d forgotten her superior speed. She quickly got in front of me. In the hallway I stuck my leg out to trip her and she countered with some ruthless hair pulling, yanking my head back violently. It wasn’t painful, it was exhilarating and I realised that I liked coke, I really liked it. She made it to the bathroom ahead of me and slammed the door in my face, making us both scream with laughter. Everything went quiet as I stood with my ear against the door. I heard her sit down.

‘Go away!’ she yelled, still laughing, ‘Go away, I can’t pee when you’re listening!’

I made heavy footfalls as though I was walking back to the bedroom then I sneaked back to the bathroom door and waited silently. Chloe began to pee. It began as a delicate tinkling and quickly became a noisy torrent.

I battered on the door. ‘Help! There’s a horse having a piss in our bathroom!’

‘You bitch!’

I felt dizzy, too much bouncing on the bed and running around. I could hear Chloe’s laughter and her thunderous peeing as I slid down the door. My heart and my liver and my spleen could all pack up now if they wanted, I didn’t care, I’d never laughed so hard in all my life.