Then came the buzzing. The phone squirmed around on the table like a helpless bee on its back, flailing frantically for assistance, but with a warning of pain on contact. It buzzed feverishly, manically, right to the edge of the table and dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

 

I picked it up and saw that 17 messages were screaming for my attention. Nine missed calls.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“Where the fuck are you?”

 

“Why is your phone off?”

 

Switch on your phone!”

 

“Switch the fucking phone on!”

 

“Are you fucking serious?”

 

“Worried my fuckin’ arse!”

 

“The one time I fucking need you!”

 

This was the message I paused on. 

 

Shit! What did he need? What had I done? My hands began to tremble so violently that I almost dropped the phone. I felt panic coming on and I stood up instinctively, ready to move in any way that might ward it off. But then my stomach reminded me why I was still at home mid-morning on a Monday and I ran to the bathroom.

 

After a minute or so, I was able to steady myself and I returned to the room, sat on the bed and called him.

 

He picked up immediately.

 

“Where the fuck have you been?”

 

“I’m at home. I’ve been ill, I’m not sure what’s up”

 

“Too ill to answer your fucking phone? Have you been out again? Is that why you're sick?”

 

“No! I’ve been in.”

 

I had to take a deep breath which allowed him to continue

 

“Doesn’t fuckin’ feel like it. I’ve been calling you for the last hour. I’ve been in a fuckin’ prison cell. Got arrested for you, spent the night in a fuckin’ cell and you don’t even pick up my calls or answer my messages?”

 

“What? What do you mean arrested?” 

 

In that moment, I felt a strange sense of relief enter my body as I realised that he hadn’t been with her.

 

“Yeah, arrested, fuckin’ arrested!”

 

“For what?”

 

“That other bitch. Fuck this. I’ll tell you later. I’ll be back in an hour. Come and meet me outside when I get there, I don’t want to see my mum or dad.”

 

“OK, let me know when you’re here”

 

“I will if you pick the fuckin’ phone up!”

 

And with that he was gone.

 

I realised I was shaking, but I felt strangely calm, my body almost refusing to engage with the drama that had just unfolded. It felt like that was a separate world and one which my body was not prepared to step into fully right now. It had bigger fish to fry. Or regurgitate, to be more precise. I drank some water and then, from nowhere, my stomach gurgled longingly and my head reminded me gleefully that there was a portion of that cheesecake, two in fact, just waiting to appease my hungry tummy.

 

How strange that I could go from death’s door to ravenously hungry in a few short minutes, and that I could remain calm now in the face of what Richie had just told me, particularly given the mood he was in. Bodies were strange things. 

 

I moved slowly to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and there they were, waiting patiently for my attention. I took the nearer portion out and shut the fridge door, shuffled to the side where the cutlery drawer was, slid the drawer open and took out a small fork, then, without lifting my feet from the surface of the floor, crossed the kitchen, moving my feet the way you do when you cautiously attempt to move forwards on ice skates for the first time, until I reached the other side to where the cupboard housing the plates was, got out a side plate and continued back to the lounge where I plonked myself down on the sofa and, for about four and a half minutes, nothing in the world mattered except delivering this exquisite treat to my body.

 

*

 

The cheesecake worked its magic and I moved from the sofa and went upstairs to sort myself out. As I did so, I heard the front door open and with it the sound of Richie’s mother talking to a friend. I figured that it would be a bad idea to remain in the house knowing what I did about Richie, so once ready, I headed downstairs, went to the lounge to clear away my plate and took it into the kitchen where his mother was making tea for her friend while they chattered away. I took the plate to the sink and Richie’s mother waved her hand in a gesture to tell me to leave it on the side. 

 

“Feeling better? Felipe said you weren’t in a good way this morning.”

 

“I think so, I’m going to get some fresh air, think it’ll do me good”

 

“Yeah, best medicine”

 

“OK, I’ll see you later,” I smiled broadly at her friend as I left the room and headed out. 

 

It was another sunny day.