Page 34 of Anything but Easy
I gave her hand a small squeeze and managed a smile. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would you–?”
“Pav’s mentioned his new car twice now.”
“So?”
“So, it’s a Porsche.”
“And?”
Millie sighed. “Kira, you think sports cars are only for men with tiny penises.”
“Yeah,” Pav put in from across the table. “I’m feeling a bit miffed actually. You haven’t told me to just buy a vacuum pump, try some Viagra, book in for surgery. Don’t you care about me and my micropenis at all?”
I smirked at him over my forkful of lentils, trying to muster up the banter he sorely deserved. “Listen, Pin Dick. You and your inadequacies may be the centre of this one’s world,” I nodded towards Millie and gave her hand another squeeze. “That doesn’t mean the rest of us want to get involved in your idiocy. Maybe I’ve got more important shit on my mind than how you choose to compensate for Little Pav.”
“I think we’ve all got more important things on our minds than Little Pav and his Willy Fiddler-mobile,” Libby said in a dry voice, rolling her eyes at Pav and giving me a tired smile. I felt bad when I saw the dark circles under her concerned eyes. Libby and Jamie had had their second baby a few months ago, and this one was not very keen on sleep. Libby had only just come back to work after a six-month maternity leave, and it looked like those sleepless nights and the stress that I knew she felt after a long break from her paediatric training was taking its toll. Jamie didn’t look much more rested himself as he slumped over his coffee, and I felt a rush of shame at my self-pitying moping.
So what if a bloke had snogged me and then gone out of his way to make sure I didn’t get the wrong idea? So what if he hadn’t contacted me since? I’d been rejected before in my time. My last boyfriend was a right piece of work who’d slept with another girl at the charity festival I’d organised.
When I’d confronted him, he’d told me, “I didn’t think you’d mind. Aren’t you hippy chicks all into free love anyway?”
I kicked his arse to the curb and didn’t shed a single bloody tear. I’d barely given him a second thought after that day, and I’d been withhimfor six months. I could count on one hand the number of actual conversations I’d had with Barclay Lucas and we’d only kissed for badger’s sake. He hadn’t even touched my boobs. So why my chest still felt tight when I thought about his horrified expression when he’d realised what he’d done, and why I was struggling to just beme,was a mystery.
It hadn’t helped that Smarmy Simon had been back to wind me up again this morning, this time cornering me in the treatment room. He’d deliberately pressed his groin into my arse while reaching for something over my head, then laughed at me when I’d jerked away from him and spilt the entire tray of equipment I’d set up for a speculum exam.
I’d never ever been an anxious person. I’d always been comfortable in my own skin, happy for people to take me as they found me. But now that was changing. I was rethinking my work outfits. I’d changed twice that morning, rejecting the orange tunic I would normally team with my thick purple tights, and instead going for something longer, something Libby’s mum had once bought me – a dress that came to my knees. I wasn’t sure if I’d worn something that reached my knees since secondary school under the tyranny of Mrs Dennington, who’d made us all kneel in the school corridor and sent home anyone whose skirt wasn’t touching the floor (the woman was a psychopath). Mark had raised both eyebrows when he saw me in the dress this morning. Not only was it long, but it wasgreyandloose. Probably the most un-Kira-like item of clothing I’d ever worn. But then Libby’s mum, who loved me to death, was always trying to make me and my mother (her unlikely best friend and next door neighbour) more conservative. This effort had largely been a wasted one, until today.
Well, I’d been wallowing in my own crap for way too long. It had been over a week since The Kiss: the longest I’d ever gone to ground. I had been described as ‘pathologically social’ before, but over the last week I’d avoided people in general as much as possible.
I was the driving force behind the book group and this week I’d cancelled it for the first time since its inception (Libby and I had started it up a few years ago to drag Millie out of her shell – which worked, I might add: I am a genius . . . obvs). My first excuse had been my e-portfolio, which had shocked everyone, as I was known for not giving a single fuck about my e-portfolio until exactly twenty-four hours prior to its submission every year. But Mark knew I had Wankpuffin breathing down my neck, so he hadn’t pushed things. Libby and Jamie were too tired to notice much, and Millie and Pav were probably still on newly-pregnant cloud nine (not that I was jealous of their perfect love . . . Okay maybe a teeny tiny part of me was jealous; most of me was just nauseous at the thought of it, but if anyone deserved a happy ending it was Millie, so it was hard to hold a grudge). Claire and Tara were crazy at work due to some sort of group gymnastics move that required an aerial component and had ended up last week with two girls in hospital with broken bones. (The club was more crazy-gym-moves-meets-burlesque than stripping, but it worked – those dancers were the highest earning of their kind in Europe.)
My second excuse had been the press attention. It turned out that people do try to sneak photos at boring political charity functions. I’d expected them to show photos of me with Barclay outside the venue – that was the point. But I had not realised that photos of me dancing with Urvi would cause such a stir. Seeing celebrities, random sexual health doctors and politicians line dancing together was apparently newsworthy. Who knew? So, now the press were following me and staking out my flat. There were even a couple of paps outside the clinic that morning until security moved them on (genitourinary medicine patients were not keen on being papped whilst entering the clinic). So I’d told everyone I needed to keep a low profile for a bit.
But now, sitting in the hospital cafeteria, there was no avoiding my friends. I knew Millie and Libby were probably going over the last week in their minds and getting worried. I’d never been comfortable having people worry over me. My mum was great but she was about as far from a helicopter parent as you could get.Free spiritis how most people described her two decades ago;ageing hippywas the more common description now. She loved me beyond reason but, when it came to regular hot meals and help with my homework, Libby’s mum was more likely to step in. I was used to looking after myself. I was not used to and not comfortable with others worrying over me. It was game-face time, womaning up time, and time to stop moping around like a wet ferret.
“Are you sure you’re okay, honey?” Libby had forgone falling asleep over her bowl of soup to focus on me. All four of them were staring at me now. The last thing I wanted was to add to any mental load Libby might be carrying, or takeaway from Millie’s happy pregnant glow.Iwas the one who asked people if they were ok.Iwas the fixer, I was not the fixee. It didn’t sit right.
“I’m fine, peeps,” I told them, giving them all what I hoped was a convincing grin. “You, however,” I said to Libby, pointing at her with my fork. “Are not fine. You need a break. Let the crazies have a sleepover at Auntie Kira’s tonight. They love their Auntie Kira time.”
Libby tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me, but I kept my grin in place. Sad Sack Kira was not my vibe. Not until now anyway.
Chapter 14
If we could just extract this dog from my genitals
Barclay
“Yo! Gasman, what the–?”
I felt my chest tighten as I watched Kira’s smile fall when she saw me in her doorway instead of whomever she was expecting, and for a moment I let myself imagine how it would feel to be one of the people she greeted with that level of enthusiasm.
When Kira saw people she liked, people she cared about, her whole face lit up. She’d fling herself at them and shower them in Kira Joy. I’d seen this happen to her friends arriving at that bloody book group before. Friends that I knew for a fact she’d seen earlier that day, but it was like they’d been separated for decades by an evil political regime and Kira was the welcoming committee on release day. It was quite a show. But instead of giving me Kira Joy, she was eyeing me likeIwas the evil political leader behind the regime, despite the fact I hadn’t seen her in two weeks.
“Bah!” the small person attached to Kira’s hip shouted and I blinked across at the baby. He had blue eyes and a mop of dark curls. His body was encased in some sort of mini sleeping bag, which left his arms free and had a zip down the front. He was bouncing in Kira’s arms, straining to get to me. “Bah! Bah!”
“Gus!” Kira snapped, struggling to contain the rather large baby in her arms. “Stop squirming, buddy.” She turned back to me. “I thought you were Jamie checking up on us.”
“Bah!” Gus shouted in her face as he twisted more violently in her arms.
