Health Care

Paying hardly any attention to the sinister screaming and the sickening sound of ripping flesh, I try to digest what Sam has just told me: that he and his friends are going back on holiday.

“To the same place?” I ask. I picture them all outside Banana’s club again, showing their stamps to the bouncers. I feel a pang of sadness, or is it jealousy, that I won’t be there.

“No, Malia,” he tells me. Malia is in Crete, a Greek island – just as rowdy as Majorca ever was.

“When?” I’m firing question after question at him. I’m half tempted to grab my beside lamp and shine it in his eyes so he’s under total interrogation.

“Three weeks’ time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you knew you were gonna book it?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugs. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal. Oh great. So much for avoiding our ‘Where is this going’ talk. “It was just a spur of the moment. Gee, Alex, I thought you’d be excited.”

“I would be,” I mutter darkly. “If I didn’t recall how we met.”

Sam looks puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, you and I met when you went on the first ‘lads’ holiday’.” I roll my eyes cynically. Shit, why am I being such a dick? “What’s to say you won’t meet somebody else?”

There. I said it. Oh God. My stomach is convulsing all over the show. I stop picking at the nachos. I said that without thinking. Should I hand Sam his bag? Is he going to freak out?

“Jesus, Alex, I didn’t think you cared that much.” Cared that much! What is he talking about? “I thought we were just, y’know … casual.”

Casual! Oh my God, I hate boys. I hate them I hate them I hate them.

“But what happened to the whole, 'I’m happy I’m with you' stuff you came out with – that night at your place?” I picture his solemn face when he told me about his ex-girlfriend, and the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me. Did it mean nothing? Was I just a distraction?

“Well yeah,” Sam stammers. “I am happy I’m with you. I just didn’t think we were in a relationship. I was just happy to y’know, cruise along. Are you getting serious, Alex?”

I blush. Am I getting serious? I don’t even know.

“You want me to go on this holiday and not meet anyone new?” he asks me. I nod, slowly, avoiding his eye. “You confuse the hell out of me,” he sighs, shaking his head.

“Why?” What’s so confusing about commitment, Sam?

“Well, one minute you tell me I’m not allowed to meet anyone new, and the next minute you’re out shopping with your ex-boyfriend!”

My stomach drops. He knows. How the fuck does he know? My jaw drops open.

“Yeah,” Sam nods deliberately. “You should really think about what you text people when you’re drunk.” He sounds pissed. Oh God, why am I such an idiot? I want to reach for my phone but I don’t think it’s a good idea. It must’ve been while in town. Don’t tell me I was gabbling about Christopher again. What is wrong with me? I don’t know how to explain myself. I open and close my mouth like a guppy.

“There’s nothing going on with me and Christopher,” I finally mumble.

“I’d like to believe you, because you’re not the sort of girl to lie,” he says quietly. “But it’s very hard for me to hear these things. I’m always going to be jealous.”

“Wait,” I say, holding up my hand. “Are you getting serious?”

“I thought I was,” he says, somewhat sadly. My stomach squirms once more. “But then I tried to stop myself because you gave me so many mixed messages. And then I thought about going back on holiday with the guys, just for a laugh. I thought you’d be cool with it. I didn’t think you’d care. You seemed too fixed on making sure your ex is okay.”

Karma is a bitch, right? I knew I shouldn’t have done all those things for Christopher. I have half a mind to call up Timothy right now and tell him our arrangement is off. Christopher can help himself from now on. Or is it too late for that? Is the damage already done?

“I’m sorry,” I finally wail. I bet I’ve ruined this. Shit, I bet it’s all over.

“Sorry for what?” Sam doesn’t sound curious. He sounds like he’s challenging me.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so concerned with Christopher. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s you I want. It really is.”

Sam surveys me intently. He seems to conclude that I’m not lying, but will he trust me again?

“I’m still going on this holiday, Alex,” he says plainly. “It’s already booked.”

I nod sadly, but jealousy boils within the pit of my stomach. If he’s got the decency not to kiss anyone out there, does that still mean he won’t dance with anyone out there? I picture him dancing like Christopher, wrapping his hands around some girl’s naked hips and she grinds her ass up and down his crotch. Oh Lord I feel like crying already.

Sam’s fingers tilt my chin up to look at him.

“Do you like me, Alex?” he asks. I nod again. “Do you want to be with me?” Again, I nod. “Well, in that case, I won’t get with any girls while I’m away.”

“Thank you,” I mumble. I mean, what else can I say?

“As long as …” Sam begins to add. What’s this, a deal? “As long as you steer clear of Christopher. You don’t need to see him.”

How did I know there would be a catch? What will Timothy think? What will Christopher think? No more shopping, no more lifts home. Do I tell him I’m not allowed to see him? Jesus, is it even healthy for Sam and I to be making all these ‘rules’ for each other? I have so many questions. Why oh why did I have to open my big mouth.

“Is that a fair deal?” Sam holds my hand. I’m avoiding his eye still. Why? What am I so afraid of? I nod again, tearing my gaze away from my lap. I force a smile. Sam kisses my forehead and pulls the tray of nachos out from between us, laying it carefully on the floor. He drapes his arm around my shoulders and pull me in close to him. I snuggle into his chest and he kisses me again.

I slowly drift off to sleep, trying to ignore the millions of questions throbbing my brain. For one, Sam and I have achieved nothing: we haven’t even decided on a ‘label’. All we’ve established is that I want to be with him. I daren’t bring it up again though. For now, I just want to switch off this shit DVD and sleep for days.