I am disappointed that she would make plans for something as monumental (read: batshit crazy) as a trip to an “adult lifestyle club”—and yes, even in my thoughts, this travesty of a title gets ironic inverted commas—without asking me if I’d like to visit first! Because if she had asked me, we could’ve had a sensible conversation about it. A conversation full of hell no’s, but I deserved the choice, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter that I’d be as likely to accept that kind of invitation as I would a jaunt out on a boat to club a few baby seals to death.
Choice, Beth. Choice!
I’m trying to persuade myself that the invitation came from her heart. From a place of goodness. But, in which case, I have to think maybe her heart must be a pretty barren place.
Rich people. Again.
And, of course, rich people bring my mind back to Carson, almost full circle. I say full circle because he seems to be the one thing I can concentrate on without difficulty, my every thought seeming to begin and end with him.
Did I have a good weekend? Marta asked earlier. My mind slipped to Carson in all his weekend glory. The astonishment on his face as I’d blurted my big admission.
Shock that turned to delight.
Do I want a coffee? I think about Carson having a tea party with Lulu.
What did I think about the last session? Session = sex. Sex = Carson.
It never ends!
On the bright side, the strangeness between us hasn’t seeped into work, and Beth has had no qualms about me sitting in on her sessions. This morning during her counselling session with a woman named Sarah, I found myself pondering orthorexia. As someone who has viewed life through that lens, I know it can be an almost silent condition. On the outside, sufferers can appear healthy, though perhaps a little rigid with their eating plans. A passion for healthy eating can be easily excused by friends, even envied, until obsession sets in. It’s hard to envy extreme weight loss, as opposed to looking sexy in a pair of skinny jeans, and it becomes an obvious issue when you continually refuse to eat out with friends.
I fit the profile for sufferers. I’m somewhat of a perfectionist. A little anxious. I struggle when I’m not in control of a situation. Like Sarah, I sought help. I learned about behaviour modification and cognitive restructuring. And then decided I wanted to help others feel good about themselves. To be mindful. To see foods, not as a moral value but as fuel. To see we are not always what we eat.
Even when we eat donkey dick.
The thought makes me a little sick as I remember the creep from Ardeo.
And, zing! I’m back to thinking about Carson and his generous proportions again.
“Have you and Beth fallen out?”
I look up from the notes I’m studying and shake my head in answer to Marta’s question. “No. We’re fine.”
“You’re far from fine. You can’t even look at each other. What happened over the weekend.”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” I sit back in my chair, my eyebrows sitting somewhere near my hairline, and if I open my eyes any wider, they might fall out of my head. “Why? Has she said something?” She’d better not have.
“Yes. She’s said fine a lot, too.” Marta’s expression twists unhappily. “But it’s far from fine. In fact, it’d be more fun working in a morgue right now. I thought—” She pauses, possibly choosing her words. “You know she’s going to end up sleeping with Ethan, right?”
“Do you reckon?”
“Hell, yes. But that’s her business. You can’t tell her anything else just because you recognise the man gives off Ken doll vibes.”
“You mean because he’s all buff and toned? Or because he’s more than a little bit plastic?”
She smiles. “I was going for empty-headed and lacking balls.”
We both set off chuckling but then fall quiet again.
“We had a difference of opinion, that’s all. It wasn’t about Ethan. Believe me, I’m not silly enough to think I could give anyone advice about their love life. I have enough on my own plate at the moment.”
“Man trouble?” she asks.
“No,” I reply a little too quickly. “I’m moving to Beth’s sister’s apartment this weekend, and I’m suddenly facing a lot more expenses than I thought.”
My answer is a diversion, while also sadly true. There are so many fees I hadn’t anticipated, and though I’ll get most of them back once I send my expense sheet to HR, I still have to lay out the sums initially.
“Oh, yeah. City living does have its drawbacks.”
“There’s the application fee, a security deposit, renters’ insurance, and utilities deposit. Then the apartment doesn’t have a communal laundry, so I’ll have to send it out or spend a couple of hours each week in the laundromat, which Lulu will be just peachy about. It’s going to cost me a pretty packet each month in terms of my commute, and that’s using the metro, not Uber or Lyft. Then there are the items that Lulu has needed for school and the new wardrobe I’ve had to splurge on because workout wear doesn’t suit the tone of the office unless you’re called Ethan, it seems. The list of expenses just goes on and on!”