I stopped, letting him take in the revelation. I bit my lips anxiously and waited for the scold that I knew I wasn’t going to brush off.
There was silence—awful nerve wrenching quiet, and then the storm. “What the fuck did you do?” Ashraf exclaimed.
I flinched at the rare harshness in his words. He was always gentle with me like I would break.
“She is kind of homeless right now and would have wasted money while trying to get on her feet. I am doing what your parents did for me. In fact, your family did more for me. Far more.” I stated defensively.
“But you don’t know her from Eve,” he retorted, brushing off talk of his parents because he was still at the denial point—never acknowledging their demise.
I rolled my eyes. “You realise that was a sleek rhyme. You know, since her name is Evelina.”
He did not play along. “Zina, this is not the time to be funny. Your brother is going to go apeshit crazy like I am trying not to be right now.”
“Hey, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Whether Robert is cool with it or not, I was always going to get a flatmate, and you know this. And I’ll bet Evelina’s a better candidate. I know where she works you know, in my bloody firm…better than someone I would have found online or even through an agent. Seems more solid to me,” I said with dripping sarcasm at the end.
With bubbling irritation laced with frustration, I added, “moreover, Robert should not have gifted me a three-bedroom flat if he really didn’t want me sharing my space. You two are just going to fucking deal.”
“Zina, I know you are a loner at heart, but you’ve never lived alone, you’ve had me with you for a long time. Are you sure you aren’t doing this because you haven’t ever lived alone? Because I know you know there’s a difference between wanting to be alone and feeling lonely?”
I sucked in a sharp breath because I knew exactly what he was saying, and it burned.
“I am trying not to replace you. That’s what you aren’t saying. You, who for the past six months before I left, I spoke more on the phone to than in person, while living in the same flat. That same you?” Without another word, I cut off the call. I was not in the mood for his overprotective, pretentious bullshit. Definitely not when I was all riled up.
In less than half a minute, my phone was ringing again. I contemplated being a bitch and ignoring him, but decided against it. That was not us, and I never wanted that to change.
I said nothing on answering the call.
“You know I am just looking out for you, right?” He finally said, grasping that I wasn’t going to break the ice.
“And that’s supposed to be an apology?”
I heard him mirror my sigh. “I’m sorry, I was out of line. I just meant…I mean, it’s your life, and I know this, but I am your best friend, so don’t expect me not to voice my opinions on your decisions, just as you do mine. My opinions are just that. It’s always your call. That been said, I apologise.” Gone was the harsh anger in his words. The surprise was still there, but I knew that would pass, eventually.
I let out an inaudible breath, letting relief wash through me. He was right though; for example, I had been vocal about what I thought about his girlfriend, who was the reason we didn’t see each other much before I moved. She felt threatened by me for a very particular reason.
“I’m sorry too for snapping at you, I am just unsettled, and it made my irritation bleed out to you.”
“Unsettled? Did anything happen to make you feel that way?”
“No. No. No,” I said hastily in guilt.
“I just haven’t fully settled my heart in London,” I lied slowly, and I was glad he couldn’t see my face twitch at my lie.
Mr Clarke happened. He had me feeling what I had never felt. He had me keeping vital information away from my Alex Karev.
“You have been in London a lot over the years. Yes, you mostly stayed indoors; so maybe that’s it. But are you sure nothing else happened? Don’t start keeping things from me now, just because distance separates us.”
I could hear the desperation in his plea; he knew something important enough wasn’t said. But I had already lied by omission. ‘Why stop now?’ was the ideology that kept the lie going.
I felt like the biggest hypocrite, seeing as I had a big thing against omissions.
“I’m living in, not visiting London, and that’s a huge change. That’s all, really.” The lie was meant to be reassuring.
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, yeah.” There was melancholy in his tone.
“Wait,” I called out desperately.
“Yes, yes, tell me.”
I willed myself to tell him about Mr Clarke, our accidental meeting, our stroll to get me cleaned up. The beauty and hotness of the said man. The masculinity and machoness he carried and walked around with. His sensuality. His painful clit stimulating voice. The way electricity reverberated through me when he touched me. The way his lips had felt barely touching mine.
I opened my mouth to say something. But nothing came out.
I found myself saying instead, “nothing, I just wanted to ask where you are, it seemed like you were in a hurry to hang up.” Lies, lies, lies. It left a bitter taste on my tongue.
“Gym.”
“Oh. I’ll let you go. Say hi to your girl.”
“Okay, bye,” he said curtly before hanging up.
I let out a loud breath but didn’t feel any relief. I couldn’t help it, but my heart ached. I couldn’t remember when last I lied to him like that, yet I did it almost effortlessly.
Maybe, because I knew it, that lie was the beginning to an end. One I wouldn’t let happen.
I put on my Nina Simone playlist, and with the bitter and massive lie weighing on me, I slept off, letting her music mirror how I felt.
* * *
I woke up Sunday morning at half-past six, thanks to my phone’s ringing.
“Hello,” I answered, still groggy and unaware.
“Hey, it’s me, Evelina.”
“Hey, did you have to call so early?” I whined without pretense.
“No, I didn’t,” she replied flatly. Obviously, someone had woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
She didn’t sound chirpy like I expected her to—an assumption since I hadn’t known her for long.
She continued. “You know it was really rude and insensitive of you to have just left the other night at the club. I panicked, not until I read your text much later on.”
I sighed, realising I should have informed her of my departure in person. “I am sorry. I will do better in any future re-occurrence.”
She chuckled. “You could have just said next time.”
I smiled because she sounded chirpy again. “I said what I said.”
“Nene Leakes has copyrights to that phrase, you know.”
I smiled. We definitely were going to have similar tvshow interests. One thing Ashraf and I didn’t have in common.
“With a guy huh? I totally didn’t tag you as the type.”
“What?”
“Dy said he saw you leave with a guy. He only saw your backs, but he was sure it was you and a guy. A man actually was what he said.”
“I’m sorry okay,” I repeated my apology.