Not That Easy. Radhika Sanghani
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‘You don’t think …?’
Will groaned loudly. ‘You’re both so fucking stupid sometimes,’ he said. ‘AIDS is a severe form of HIV and you’re not going to get it from his nosebleed unless it’s gone into an open wound on your face. Do you have a cut on your face, Ellie?’
I raced over to my full-length mirror and examined my face. ‘OK, no,’ I admitted.
‘Then, my darling, you are AIDS free,’ he said. ‘Congratulations.’
I hobbled downstairs to the kitchen to find breakfast and stop my hangover. My head was banging and I needed carbs to soak up the alcohol. But all I had was Sainsbury’s own-brand Crunchy Nut Cornflakes.
Forlornly, I tipped the packet into a bowl and reached for the milk. I was pouring it in when I realised there were small black lumps floating in my bowl. What the fuck were they?! I grabbed a spoon and lifted a few out to examine them closely. They looked like rabbit poos, only smaller.
Then I froze. There were sounds coming from my cornflakes carton. I took a deep breath and moved towards it. I held on to the sideboard to steady myself and hesitantly peered inside. There was a tiny grey lump moving in my cornflakes. I opened my mouth and screamed.
Will walked into the kitchen. ‘Seen a mouse?’ he asked nonchalantly, as he pushed past my trembling body to get to his cupboard.
‘IT’S IN MY CORNFLAKES!’ I shrieked.
‘Yeah, there’s a few in here,’ he said. ‘I saw a bunch running out of the bin bags last week.’
I stared at him aghast. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve seen mice in here, and you didn’t think to tell anyone?! What’s wrong with you, Will? We need to buy traps and … and poison.’
‘Ellie,’ he said, ‘we live in London. Obviously we’re going to have mice. Besides, we have a four-bed in Haggerston with a living room and only pay £550 each. We’re lucky we just have mice.’
‘As opposed to?’ I asked. ‘Oh fuck, do you mean RATS?’
‘Calm down.’ He sighed. ‘You can’t have mice and rats at the same time.’
‘They’re … mutually exclusive?’
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Anyway, are you going to eat those cornflakes? I’m starving.’
‘There is a mouse in the box,’ I said slowly. ‘Do you not get this?’
‘Whatever.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll just take the mouse out.’
I stared at him in incomprehension and backed out of the kitchen quickly, straight up the stairs to Emma’s room.
‘Em,’ I cried, as I pushed open her door. ‘There’s loads of mice and Will doesn’t care. What do we do?’
‘Ugh, I know,’ she said, as she paused the programme she was watching on her laptop. ‘I’ve just been getting Serge to bring me food or staying at his more.’
‘Right, well, some of us don’t have a boyfriend to rely on, so … shall we buy some traps and try to get rid of them?’ I asked in frustration.
‘Meh, I don’t think they really work,’ she said. ‘Besides, it’s not like they’re rats.’
How was my best friend OK with mice living in our cereals? I shook my head at her and went straight to Ollie’s room. I knocked and waited for him to reply.
‘Come in,’ he called.
I pushed open the door and walked into his room. It was all grey, and the only effort he had put into decorating it was a collage of pictures of him and Yomi stuck onto his wardrobe. They were both so attractive that they looked like a celeb couple. She had massive green eyes and a weave that made her look like Beyoncé. Ugh.
I walked straight past her smiling face and sat down on his bed.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Mice,’ I announced. ‘Apparently they live with us and I found one in my cornflakes.’
He laughed. ‘Shit, I can’t believe they got into your food.’
‘I know. Who knew mice love own-brand cornflakes?’
‘Glad to see we don’t have middle-class mice. Maybe we should name them,’ he suggested.
‘Or,’ I said, ‘perhaps we could, um, exterminate them all?’
He scrunched up his face at me and I stopped myself running over to touch it. ‘How do you propose we do that?’ he asked.
‘Traps? Poison? Pest-killing men?’
‘I think the men only come in for rats and stuff, and I reckon they’d be pretty expensive, but I guess we could try the others. The only thing is that poison means the mice will eat it, then die wherever they are. We could have dead mice living in our walls.’
‘Ohmigod, ew.’
‘Exactly.’
‘OK, so traps?’ I asked.
‘Two options—lovely humane cages that just catch them without hurting them but cost loads, or cheap traps that snap their legs and get blood everywhere,’ he said.
I groaned and collapsed back onto the bed. It smelt musty but in a sexy kind of way. Ew, it was probably his and Yomi’s sex smells. I sat up again. ‘You don’t want to do anything either, do you?’ I asked him.
‘The others want to leave the mice alone too?’
‘Yeah, and I can tell you do as well. Am I the only one who wants to eat food that’s not contaminated by mice poo?’
‘I think so,’ he said. ‘But, hey, if we keep the house extra clean for a bit, they’ll go away on their own. Or, at least, there’ll be less of them.’
‘OK.’ I sighed. ‘And there was me thinking that living in an East London flatshare would be glamorous.’
‘Nothing glamorous about earning the minimum wage in our twenties,’ he said.
‘But at least you have an actual job,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t advertising pay well?’
‘Not in your first year, and not when every graduate in London is willing to do it for free as an internship.’
‘Ah, yeah, that would be me.’
‘Don’t worry. I did my fair share of interning too. And journalism is way cooler than advertising, so I reckon it will pay off in the long run.’
‘Mmm, maybe,’ I said. ‘Anyway, on less depressing topics, how’s stuff with Yomi?’
‘Yeah, good,’ he said. ‘But, I guess … well, four years is a long time to be together and long distance is hard at the moment. It will be easier when she’s not still up in Bristol and she’s back here in London.’
‘Yeah, definitely.’ I nodded, as though I was highly experienced with long-term, long-distance relationships. ‘I’m sure it will get easier soon.’
‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘It’s getting to that weird time where I’m twenty-five and I’ve had the same girlfriend for four years. I kind of miss playing the field.’
Oh my God. My dreams were coming true. Ollie wanted to break up with Yomi. I forced myself to breathe calmly. I couldn’t suggest they break up or it would look bad. I had to be subtle.
‘Maybe you should?’ I asked. Subtle was overrated.
‘Ah, who knows what will happen. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with any of this crap.’
‘Mm, yeah, so lucky that no one wants to date me. They just want to bleed on me.’
He laughed. ‘That’s