Do You Really Want to Yurt Me?. Daisy Tate
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really like him, Emms. Ernesto’s …’ Callum went all doe-eyed. Gross. Men over six foot tall should never go dewy over anyone or anything. Except, perhaps, puppies. She gave out the odd free card for puppies. Even though she’d never want one herself, obviously. It would die of loneliness. A bit like her, she supposed.
‘Emms? A little feedback would be nice.’ Callum was openly plaintive.
She tried to rustle up some enthusiasm but couldn’t. Instead she decided to rub in just how completely unfair this all was. ‘Soo … you need me out by the end of July? If I’m working and packing, how much time does that leave us for Brighton?’
Callum put on his apology face. It needed work. ‘About Brighton … Ernesto’s never been and with only the one room booked—’
She made a screeching noise. ‘No. Please. I get it.’ Emily didn’t need Callum to spell it out. Boyfriend trumped flatmate. Ex-flatmate. Whatever.
‘You okay, Emms?’
Oh, now he cared.
‘Brilliant. I’m on my way to a meeting. Better go.
‘Emmzzzz. C’mon, baby. I know there’s some hurt going on in there.’
‘What do you want me to say? That I’m devastated? Okay, I’m devastated - happy?’
‘Emmmmzzz.’
This was becoming plain irritating.
‘What? You’ve met me. I’m not going to cry. I don’t have feelings.’ She had loads of feelings. She just didn’t want to show them. ‘I’ll leave my boa for you on the kitchen table. Make good use of it.’
Callum began protesting and placating and everything else that she found freaking annoying. Bloody overemotional gay man. Why had she ever thought he was the ying to her Cristina Yang? And still he jabbered on.
Maybe she’d go and see Izzy.
Emily thought about their last text exchange.
Emz! Reeeeeeks of mould in here. There’re big, dark stains on the ceilings.
Thought it was the dog.
Bonzer has his moments, but he’s not pooping on the ceiling … yet! Any chance you could come out with a Petri dish or something sometime? It’d be a shame to die before … you know … it’s time to die. Love to Callum. xx
A shudder ran down Emily’s spine. Euuurgh. Wales. Thank god ‘gay time’ moved at an exponential rate of knots and the standard two-year relationship could be boiled down to a fortnight. She would stay in one of the on-call rooms. Callum’s whole ‘I’ve met the love of my life’ thing would blow over soon enough.
‘Got another call coming in. Have a great time! Kisses to Ernesto!’ No one in their right mind would’ve thought she sounded sincere.
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