Grown Ups by Marie Aubert

Author:Marie Aubert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2021-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I lie in my room reading a magazine, I’m waiting for the doctor to call me, I want to book my train to Gothenburg, to make a hotel reservation, to decide when I should start hormone treatment, I want to get things moving. The day will come that I have a boyfriend, a day when everything can begin.

It’s two years since I last came close to anything like that. I told my friends there weren’t any feelings there, that he was just some guy I’d met on Tinder, he had a partner, but that was his problem, as I used to say. Marthe was freshly head over heels for Kristoffer and nestled in the crook of his arm here at the cabin as I entertained them with my stories of married men, Olea wasn’t with us on that occasion. Kristoffer laughed, and Marthe rolled her eyes and said:

‘That’s so typical of you, Ida, think of his family, I can’t believe he even has the audacity to be on Tinder to start with.’

‘Can’t he think of his own family?’ I retorted.

But I did think of his family, actually I thought of nothing else. I wondered if he would leave his family, I wondered about it as I washed up the buttercup-patterned plates, as I walked to the bathing spot with Marthe, as I read old weeklies and replied to work emails I shouldn’t have replied to on holiday, I thought about him and wondered if he would leave his partner, I couldn’t assume so, obviously not, men never leave, but still, it happened occasionally, some did, some people fell in love with someone else. In the evenings I would lie where I’m lying now, maybe my skin had been warmed by the sun, I don’t recall it being particularly warm that summer, and I wondered what next summer would be like, wondered if he’d have left her by then, if he’d come here with me. I was a little drunk after dinner and I texted him about sex. I sometimes got the impression that he enjoyed our exchange of messages more than the act itself; when I was back at home in the city, he rarely had time to meet me. I didn’t want to think that way, I’d been on the receiving end of so much crap, I wanted to believe this was the real deal. I described taking him in my mouth, as deep as I could, looking him straight in the eye, and he replied with a picture of his penis, I felt the urge to masturbate before replying, ‘Wow,’ I wrote, I was at tipping point and he had stopped replying altogether, I waited for a bit, thrashed around in bed and stared and stared at the little blue bubbles on-screen, didn’t want to come before he had texted me back. ‘I’m going to come soon,’ he eventually wrote, ‘thinking about fucking you hard’, ‘Me too,’ I wrote, ‘want to talk?’ We’d done it a few

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