Page 12 of Always the Bridesmaid

I know I’m in much brighter spirits now because I always hum, sing or whistle when I’m in a good mood, like a reflexive reaction to happiness. I’m still humming as I place my hand on the handle of my bedroom door, noticing that I am building an appetite for the fancy dinner I’ve organized to start in a couple of hours’ time.

Reaching the chorus, I open the bedroom door and am struck by the scent of what I think is black pepper and ginseng body wash. It’s a scent my husband used to wash with in the shower.

Holding my blink longer than usual, I inhale deeply. When I open my eyes…

I scream at the sight of a naked man lying, unashamedly, in the fancy bathtub that is a focal point of the room.

‘What the actual fuck is happening?’ I shriek like a banshee.

‘I’m taking a bath, what does it look like?’ There is a ghost of amused arrogance around Charlie’s lips and a glint of mischievousness in his eyes, both of which add fuel to the fire that is already raging inside me.

‘Naked? In all your glory? In our shared tub? What are you, some kind of exhibitionist?’

I don’t mean to look but it’s impossible not to notice his man-piece under the clear water. It’s not bad, actually. Unexpectedly neat and tidy. Perfectly adequate. Not too large, not too small.

Sarah, stop! Not the point here.

‘There were strategically placed bubbles covering my important parts but you spent so long contributing to the world’s water shortage that they’ve dispersed.’

I open my mouth to protest but it did occur to me whilst I was in the shower that I was using too much water. That said… ‘And how much water do you think you’re wasting by lying in a bathtub purely out of spite?’

‘It hasn’t escaped my attention that you’ve looked at my – how did you put it? – glorious member,’ Charlie says, dismissing my retort entirely.

‘I didn’t!’

‘Yes, you did. But not to worry, I’m looking forward to getting my own back.’

‘Getting your own back? There’s no way you’re going to see my important parts, ever!’

‘We’ve all seen that episode of Friends. “The One with the Boobies”. You know, the one where Chandler walks in on Rachel in the shower and sees—’

I hold up my hand in a bid to stop his relentless ramblings. Of course I have seen that episode. Friends is one of my favorite sitcoms. A classic. But I am not in the mood to enter into a conversation about that now.

‘Friends is a sitcom in which scenes are scripted for comedic effect.’

Charlie raises his arms out of the water, drips landing all over the grey tiled floor. ‘And I’m a comedian,’ he says.

‘Really?’

Fascinating.

I had pictured him as some kind of annoying tech guy, like those in the law firm I work for. The kind who don’t get out much, make bad jokes to attract attention, and tend to dip their hand in the candy drawer too often.

‘Well, there’s nothing funny about this.’

I turn on my heels to storm away but with my back to Charlie, I realize I have nowhere to go. This is our room. Jointly. Together. Urghhhhh!

‘How long will you be?’ I snap. ‘I need to blow-dry my hair and make sure all the arrangements are in place for dinner.’

‘More jobs for Sarah. Tell me, do you take on the role of chief organizer because you want to or because you’re addicted to people pleasing?’

Who is this guy?

I like organizing. I love my friends. I want to do things to make them happy. They’d do the same for me, in a heartbeat. I know they would.

‘Could you just… hurry up!’

‘Will do.’ He reaches for his phone, which he has placed on a stool on top of a towel at the head of the bathtub. He presses play and a voice I don’t recognize begins to sing what is admittedly an attractive melody. Then he lies his head back against the end of the tub and closes his eyes, with a look on his face that’s so smug, a person of violent tendencies might fill a bucket with his dirty tub water and empty it right across his floppy hair.

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