Weirdo by Sara Pascoe

Author:Sara Pascoe [Pascoe, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Faber and Faber
Published: 2023-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

If anyone who wasn’t me saw this they would think it was such a kind compliment. If you were browsing in the charity shop and happened upon this message you’d imagine a very nice relationship. Someone thinks Sophie’s mind is amazing, you would presume. How lucky to be Sophie and so appreciated. You might even be jealous of me. You might wish your boyfriend took more notice of your mind and its beauty. That’s what I would probably think if I wasn’t me and this was someone else’s book. When, actually, if you found this book in the RSPCA or the Mencap then you shouldn’t be jealous. Sophie clearly didn’t want it anymore; the inscription was no longer precious. Maybe it’s an old reminder of an ex who cheated on her, or an uncle who molested her? Or she’s dead and someone’s donated all her stuff. Either way, not lucky.

My eyes water at the idea of fictional molested Sophie’s death. What a waste of her brilliant brain. When I glance up, Ian is smug-smiling because he thinks I’m affected by his clever message. Duh.

It’s an in-joke, you see. Not a ha-ha joke that’s actually funny, but a reminder of the thread that winds through us and back to the beginning. That’s what being a couple is, I think, an identity overlap, because so many things happen when only the two of you are there. Or it’s not identity overlap – it’s story. You are bonded by shared chapters until one or other of you decides the narrative has finished.

I don’t know if it’s hormonal or a hangover or the conversation with Dana but I am really philosophical today. Maybe it was all those unsatisfying dreams? Maybe being unhappy ripens your brain for good thoughts?

Ian is gulping from a glass of water that I didn’t know he’d brought up. I gesture for him to pass it to me and poke two Nurofen out of their shallow holes and down my throat. While I drink, Ian holds his hand out to take the water back and I get the urge to throw it across no man’s land. I pass it nicely and see he has a wet chin. I look back down at the inscription instead of saying something barbed like ‘Drink much?’

So the story is, the first time we went out, it wasn’t a date, it was after-work drinks with a few scarers, but it became a kind of date because Ian bought me a red wine and only spoke to me all night. I don’t normally drink red wine, and this one was very heavy and bloodlike when I’d have preferred a something and Coke with ice. At first I stayed talking to Ian at the bar out of politeness because he’d paid for the drink and was sort of my boss. He was teasing me, saying I was silly to be scared of the other scarers even though I knew them and had seen them putting on their make-up and getting ready.

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