“It is well.”
Something in her mother’s voice made Glory believe that it would be.
On the way home, Celeste was in even brighter spirits, singing loudly along to her tapes and Glory even joined in. When her mother stopped at a petrol station, Glory began looking through the videos and pictures she had taken on her phone. She selected one to post and uploaded it, waiting for the likes and heart-eyed emojis to roll in.
When they got home, she reluctantly took off her makeup and undressed. Her legs and feet were gently throbbing but as she lay in bed, her heart was full and at rest. She checked her notifications one last time before she slept.
Julian had gone quiet again on WhatsApp, and he hadn’t responded to the Instagram post that was steadily accruing compliments. In a fit of childishness Glory sent him what would be her final message for the night:
“I see you’re too busy for me these days. I give up.”
The status bar of the message window informed her that Julian was typing a reply, but before he had a chance to say his piece, she switched her phone to Airplane Mode and slipped it under her pillow.
She wasn’t sure what time it was when she was woken by the front doorbell. Startled out of her sleep, she reached for her phone, checked the time and then panicked, praying that somehow the new sleeping pills her mother had been prescribed would keep her from waking up.
“Who’s there?!” Celeste cried from her room.
Glory stumbled from her bed and out onto the landing.
“I don’t know, Mummy. Maybe they’re ringing the wrong doorbell,” Glory called back, her voice hoarse.
They waited in silence, and just when Glory was ready to go back to her bed, the doorbell rang again. She swore under her breath.
“Don’t answer it!” her mother commanded from her room, fear creeping into her voice.
Glory ignored her and crept down the stairs, picking up an umbrella along the way to use as a weapon should she need it.
“Who’s there?” she called out when she reached the door.
“Glory?” the muffled voice called back.
“Who is it?” Celeste’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs.
“I don’t know, Mum!” Glory replied impatiently, before turning back to the door. “Who’s there?! Say a name or I’m going to call the police!” she shouted at the door, her mother’s fear coloring her own voice.
“It’s Julian!”
Glory dropped the umbrella, unlatched the door and pulled it back slightly. Sure enough, Julian stood before her. He was backlit by the headlamps of a car that was parked directly in front of Glory’s door, his face thrown into shadow.
“Julian? Are you crazy? You woke up my mum!”
“Who is it?!” Celeste called desperately from the first floor.
“It’s OK, Mum. I know them, it’s my—my friend.”
“What friend?!” the fear in Celeste’s voice was replaced by anger. “What time is this that they are waking up the whole street ringing my bell?!”
“Mummy, please! I’m an adult! Let me handle this!” Glory snapped back at her mother, who tutted and retreated to her bedroom mumbling about her rude daughter and her daughter’s rude friends.
Julian had stood on the doorstep during this exchange, his head hung slightly as he waited for Glory’s mother to leave.
“What the fuck, Julian?” Glory said, bristling.
“That’s what happens when you think you can send messages anyhow and then turn off your phone.”
“My battery died,” Glory lied. “But you thought it was a smart idea to come and ring my doorbell in the middle of the night and wake up my mum?”
“And I’m your friend now?” Julian said with a mean smile that Glory could just about make out in the dark.
“You really want me to tell my mum that my boyfriend came knocking down her door at two o’clock in the morning?” Glory said in a sharp whisper. “Not the best first impression, trust me!”
Julian sighed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
“Did you come all this way to argue? I’m sure you’ve got more important things to be doing.”
Glory rested one hand on the door and the other hand on her hip. She looked past him to the parked car. She could make out someone in the passenger seat. A hooded head against the glass, a slack jaw beneath the shadow suggested the passenger was asleep.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m some dickhead, Glory.”
“I’m really not gonna argue outside my mum’s house like we’re on Eastenders, I need to sleep! I’m going to see Victor in the morning.”
Glory took a step back, ready to push the door shut in Julian’s face, but Julian’s arm snapped out and held the door open.
“You know you’ve got a big attitude problem?” He was beginning to lose his cool. “You start arguments that you don’t wanna finish then think you can act like nothing’s happened afterwards.”
Julian’s assessment of her caught her off guard, and all the warmth she had felt earlier in the evening slipped out into the black night.
“I didn’t start any argument tonight,” Glory said, keeping her hand on the door even though she could feel Julian’s weight pressing against it.
“So why did you send that bullshit manipulative message and turn off your phone if you didn’t want something to fight about?”
“If you keep shouting, my mum’s gonna come down here and fight us both.”
Julian stepped away from the door and went down the steps, beckoning Glory to follow him. He leaned up against the car bonnet and Glory stood in front of him, turning back to look up at her mother’s bedroom window. The light was still off and the curtains were closed, but Glory was sure her mother was sitting up in bed waiting for her to return.
“So, you have my attention—is that what you wanted?” Julian had calmed down in the distance from Glory’s front door to the car and was trying to sound rational.
“I was just letting you know how I feel,” Glory said, wrapping her arms around her body, aware that she was cold and not properly dressed. Julian ignored her discomfort and continued. He took his phone out and reread her last message.
“I see you’re too busy for me. That’s not telling me how you feel, that’s trying to provoke a reaction.”
Glory was struck by the absurdity of the situation: they were standing outside her mother’s house, her in her pyjamas, while he was attempting to cross-examine her.
“Have you been drinking?” she asked, unable to stop the amusement from coloring her voice.
Julian exhaled harshly and turned his head from her.
“You know what? You’re fucking impossible to talk to sometimes. Now it’s my turn to give up.”
Julian pushed off from the bonnet, walked to the driver-side door and opened it.
Glory stood, stunned by his anger. She pulled her arms tighter around her body, her lips forming the words before she had fully acknowledged what she was about to say.
“Fuck you.”
Julian had begun to lower himself into the driver’s seat but now sprung back up, his face contorted in outrage.
“Fuck me, yeah?”
Glory turned and began to walk back toward her house, as Julian repeated the epithet.
“Fuck me, yeah? Is that what you’re sayin’, yeah?”
She spun back around and spat out her response as severely as she could without raising her voice.
“You said you give up on me, well I’m saying fuck you!”
She entered her house and as she pushed the door shut behind her, Julian’s final retort slipped in with the last gust of night air. She tiptoed to look through the frosted glass that was set in the top of the doorframe. The car engine started and the tires screeched into a violent three-point turn, and then the distorted red beam of the rear lights disappeared into the dark.
Glory waited until her temper cooled off and her heartbeat slowed. She then tried to climb the stairs as quietly as she could, avoiding the floorboards she knew to creak until she was almost back in her room.
“It’s very inappropriate,” Celeste called from her room. “A man coming to drag a young woman from her bed in her mother’s house? It’s very inappropriate and I don’t like it.”
“I know,” Glory sighed. “Sorry, Mummy. I didn’t tell him to come.”
“If he comes again to my house—”
“You won’t see him again!” Glory shouted back.
Celeste harrumphed and turned over in her bed, the mattress creaks ringing through the darkness. When her mother had settled, Glory fell into a restless sleep.