Page 12 of The Photograph

“Des?”

George’s sleepy voice reaches me from across the apartment. Crossing the lounge to my bedroom, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, gloriously tousled.

“Felix just left,” I say.

He frowns. “Who?”

This makes me laugh. God knows how many uppers George had had before he met me last night.

“The guy we had sex with tonight?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, half awake.

“Go back to sleep,” I say.

“Need to pee.” He stands up and stretches, and I scan down his body.

As he walks toward the bathroom, on impulse I lift my phone and snap a shot of his backside illuminated by the lights seeping around the door.

He grins over his shoulder at me. “Are you taking naked pictures of me?”

“Yep,” I say, grinning back.

“I wanna see that when I’m done,” he says, disappearing into the bathroom, and I pull up the picture.

It’s moody, only half-lit. His ass is tight and muscled, hair a tousled mess. He’s clearly just got out of bed, and I suddenly think of Alex and the arty shot of his ankle. Grinning, I pull up Grindr and start to type a response to Alex, but then delete the words. Isn’t no text at all better? I load the photo of George into the app. That’ll teach him to send me suggestive pictures; I can send so much more provocative ones back.

I press send and collapse back on the mattress, closing my eyes as the room dips and sways. I’m still a bit drunk. The bed moves when George climbs back into it, but I’m drifting, my mind grappling around images of dancing and Korea and George popping a pill into his mouth and … A warm arm curls over my stomach.

“Love you, Dessy,” he says.

When my eyes blink open again, it’s to a white ceiling with thin strips of sunlight cutting across it. The time on the clock is blinking 12:13 p.m. Sun seeps through the blinds, and my body is loose, heavy against the sheets, water quietly gurgling in the pipes somewhere to my left. I turn my head to find a piece of paper on the pillow next to mine, and I smile. George and his notes! I have a whole stack of them in a drawer somewhere. Picking up the note, I roll onto my side, blinking as I try to focus.

Brunch with Alan and Shaun. Come and join us! I’ll text where we’re meeting. Gx

Lying back, I stare at the pattern on the ceiling, chest expanding. He’s not here and I don’t have to listen and be supportive, and that probably makes me an awful person. I take a deep breath and shut my eyes. It would be so easy to be sucked back into things with George. Despite the cheating, he’s good at being close to people, and I’ve got a familiarity with him that I don’t have with anyone else. I don’t know whether the closeness is an illusion or if it’s real for him. When he says he loves me, what does that mean? Perhaps he does love me in his own way—he just can’t be with one guy and stick to it.

Growing up, with five younger sisters and no dad around, my time at home was spent prepping homework, washing PE uniforms, listening to boyfriend problems, and wading in when I had to. Now I want someone to take care of me. I love all the hooking up and the fun, but ultimately I want to find my person.Who doesn’t? Hollowness snakes through my stomach. George is great, but the time away in Korea has given me some distance and a bit of perspective, and I need to harden my heart a bit here.

Paws click-click on the wooden floors. Mitzi, with some sixth sense only dogs have, has realized I’m awake. Her fluffy head appears by the bed.

“Hello, missy,” I say, leaning over to pick her up. “Did you take cover last night from the noisy, drunk men?”

I hold her above me, arms extended, and she wriggles and stretches down. When I put her on my chest, she licks my face. Laughing, I push her onto the mattress, but not to be outdone, she squirms up, and sniffs around the sheets before coming back to me, putting her paws on my shoulders and licking my face again. I smoosh her down by my side.

“Lie still, torturess.”

I pick up the note again. George’s friends Alan and Shaun have a habit of gossiping that often takes the conversation swirling down the plughole, and they’ve made sour faces at me when I haven’t dished the dirt on Janus Phillips, who featured heavily in the gossip columns before he got married to Jo. Like I should have a hotline of information on him, which I don’t. Listening to their bitching doesn’t sound that appealing when I’ve got a free Saturday to catch up on admin, washing, and sleep. Perhaps even veg out in front of a movie tonight and go to bed early. I stretch out over the sheets and wiggle around.Bliss.

When I pick up my phone, a text from George is sitting on the notification screen with details of a brunch place that does his favorite cocktails.They’ll all be pissed. Did he really miss me? Am I immune to his manipulation, or will I ever be? Ugh. Second-guessing my weaknesses with him drives me around the bend. I love him dearly, but I haven’t missed this.

Gotta catch up with stuff today. Love you, xx

That will keep him happy, and I can press on. Putting my phone back on the nightstand, I roll over and close my eyes.

I wake again at 2 p.m., Mitzi still curled up beside me, and lever myself out of bed. We head out for a quick walk and then she follows me around the apartment for three hours while I put on two loads of washing, clean every surface, pay a load of bills, and sort out the pile of mail that’s accumulated after two months of my being away.

I wade through emails and pull together the schedule on Samsung for this coming week. The next time I glance up, the sky is dark outside. 8 p.m. I yawn, my stomach growls, and I lean back from my laptop and stretch. The tightness in my shoulders has eased off, and for the first time since I got back, I’m ahead of the game, or at least prepared for the problems the new team in the office will no doubt have in store for me. Time for food in the wonderful smorgasbord that is New York: Uber Eats will bring me anything.

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