SAM
On Friday morning I opened my curtains to find the sun streaming in gaily though my window and it made me want to sing. I was feeling excessively pleased with myself, having managed to get through the whole of the previous evening eating a total of thirty grapes. The day stretched ahead of me, hours and hours of uninterrupted preening. Finally, my two-week beautifying regime would be coming to a flurried conclusion. The list on my mirror had grown. I had a mud mask to apply, yet more exfoliating and a detailed analysis of my eyebrows to complete. Possible toenail painting – I thought I’d leave my fingernails until the following day. I thought I’d also pepper the day with toning yoga stretches and eat a suitably tiny amount of grapes. I patted my stomach happily. I was sure I was feeling lighter already.
I spied my oil burner almost buried on my desk and unearthed it. It had a thick layer of dust coating the bowl so I picked a pair of knickers off the floor and wiped as much off as I could. I poured a little water in from the glass next to my bed and, after rummaging in my drawer, I found a tealight and some lavender oil. As I dropped a couple of drops into the bowl, the clean, sharp scent filled my nostrils, lifting my virtuous little spirit further. Lovely. I smiled.
I found Ed reading the paper in the kitchen.
‘Morning! What a day!’ I said.
‘Indeed.’
‘Can I borrow your lighter?’
‘What for?’
‘Just to light my oil burner.’ I looked at him, hands on my hips, but I was smiling.
Ed gazed at me. ‘You’re in a good mood today,’ he finally commented.
I spread my arms wide. ‘The sun is shining!’
Ed looked out of the window.
‘So can I have your lighter?’ I reminded him.
‘Oh, right. Of course.’ And he leant back in his chair so he could fish the lighter out of the pocket of his skinny jeans, revealing a patch of taut olive-brown stomach, a jet black line of hair disappearing into his fly. I flicked my eyes to the floor, my belly suddenly fluttering with nerves. These grapes do make a girl feel a bit strange, I told myself.
I was finishing up my shower when I started feeling a bit odd. Sort of hungry-sick. Hungry. No, sick. No. Hungry? I couldn’t decide. It was very silly to only eat grapes really. I knew that. Imagine what Dad would say if he knew how ridiculous I was being! Maybe I should eat something a bit more substantial. Some toast maybe. Yes. That’ll be all right. Just some plain toast. No butter. Surely there can’t be many calories in a piece of toast.
Ed was in the kitchen, making a cup of tea. He turned when he heard me come in.
‘Are you OK? You look really pale.’
I didn’t answer straightaway and I suddenly felt like I needed to sit. Ed came over to me and sat down.
‘What’s up?’
‘Oh,’ I said, holding my forehead in my hands, ‘I don’t feel that great. I was OK before my shower but now . . .’ I placed one hand onto my stomach. ‘Maybe I should have some toast or something. I think those grapes might be making me feel a bit light-headed.’
Ed jumped up and set about making me toast immediately and I sat quietly, hoping that the good feeling from the start of the day would return. I didn’t feel like I had the energy to stand up, let alone concentrate on beautifying myself. The smell of toast soon filled the kitchen.
‘You know, I’ll never understand why girls do this to themselves,’ Ed said.
‘Do what?’ I croaked.
‘Starve themselves when they’re not actually overweight.’
‘Well, I’m not exactly a skinny number.’
‘You are so.’
Ed came over and put a piece of dry toast under my nose.
‘Thanks.’
‘Not a problem.’
I withdrew my head from my cradling hands and looked at my toast. It didn’t produce the rush of hungry saliva I was expecting – in fact, the opposite. My stomach creaked ominously. I took the toast to my mouth anyway and tried a tentative bite from one corner. Bloody dry, all right. But I ploughed on, taking several bites and forcing myself to swallow them, one by one. Ed placed a glass of water next to me too and I took a sip of water now and then. Halfway through the ordeal I put the toast down and resumed my head-in-hands position, and waited for the food to hit my stomach and for my energy to return.
‘So are you looking forward to the party tomorrow night then?’ Ed asked.
‘Not right at this moment in time.’
‘You’ll be OK by tomorrow though. You’ll have a blast.’
‘If you say so.’
There was silence while we both sat in our own thoughts, the clock ticking quietly in the background, the fridge humming.
After a bit, Ed stirred and wandered back to the kitchen counter. ‘I’m sure you’re going to look amazing,’ he said to his coffee maker.
And even in my tragic state I buzzed quietly with pleasure. He really can be a nice guy, can Ed, I thought.
It wasn’t long after this that I had to leg it to the bathroom to be sick, after which I went straight back to bed. Ed came in as I lay, buried in self-pity, on my side. He placed some water next to my bed.
‘Do you need anything else?’
‘No,’ I groaned. ‘It must have been the Bombay mix.’
‘Sorry?’
‘The Bombay mix at Kate’s. We shared some Bombay mix.’
Ed was quiet for a minute then said in a confused voice, ‘I’ve never had a problem with it myself.’
‘They had a bug,’ I groaned again.
‘The Bombay mix?’
Oh my God, he was being so dense. ‘No, you twat, the kids. The kids have had a bug. A bug in the house. Kate had her hand in the bloody Bombay mix and so did I. Geddit?’
‘Oh.’ Ed sounded hurt. ‘Can I get anything else for you? A bowl for beside your bed?’
‘I said no, Ed, just leave me alone.’
I lay there in misery. I hadn’t meant to be so sharp with him. I could see he was only trying to help. But I felt so horrible. Why couldn’t things just come together for me for once, like they were meant to? I had bumped into Charlie for a reason, to be in his life again, and this party was my opportunity to shine. I’d put so much bloody effort into it! I also wished I’d pulled the curtains; the sunshine seemed to make me feel worse rather than better. It was mocking me, streaming so generously in my window, as if I deserved it or something. Which of course I didn’t. Oh fuck, here comes the bile.
I ran to the toilet again and after vomiting violently I sat on the cool floor for a bit, getting my breath back. I was vaguely aware of Ed talking on the phone in the kitchen and then I returned to bed.
‘Sam,’ he whispered from the door.
‘Yes?’ I croaked.
‘That was Kate, she said that the bug should only be twenty-four hours, forty-eight tops.’
‘Great.’
‘Right. Well, call me if you need anything. I’m around a lot today.’
‘Thanks, Ed.’