The Furies. Katie Lowe
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‘She just needed some fresh air.’
‘Really?’ Robin said, her tone arch. She turned to me. ‘Fresh air?’
I nodded. I felt oddly ashamed, a swell of guilt rising as I tried to recall my reasons for leaving her behind.
‘Wanna go home?’ Robin said, after a pause. I felt the world lurch forwards, and another wave of nausea struck me like a punch to the gut.
‘Home sounds good.’
‘Okay,’ Robin said. She turned again to Tom, who was already walking back towards the stairs. ‘Thanks for looking after her,’ she said, though I thought I heard a note of sarcasm in her voice.
‘Any time,’ he replied, without looking. His footsteps echoed up the steps as we left the tower, and stepped out once again into the night. The brief moment of warmth in the reception hall served only to heighten the cold outside, which now felt biting and cruel. We walked in silence, down the hill towards the edge of campus, through a dark passage lined with chicken-wire fences and overhanging trees fused into a tangled canopy above.
‘I’m sorry for leaving,’ I said, a little relieved at the sound of my voice which, for the first time in hours, sounded like my own.
‘It’s fine,’ Robin said, a few paces ahead. We walked a little longer in silence, before she added, ‘I had a fight with Andy. I think we’re over.’
I felt a rush of relief at this, the implication that perhaps her tears were not on my account, but his. ‘I’m sure it’s not that bad,’ I offered, awkwardly.
‘How would you know?’ She turned to me, eyes flashing anger.
‘I don’t, obviously,’ I said. ‘What I mean is …’ I clawed for some non-committal phrase, something to appease her. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be better in the morning. You probably just need to sleep on it.’
She sighed. ‘I don’t want to be rude,’ she said, slowly. ‘But what experience do you have, exactly, that puts you in a pos-ition to be doling out relationship advice?’ Her eyes were dark in the orange glow of the street lamps, her shadow long and distorted up ahead. I felt my cheeks burn red hot, and, grateful for the cover of night, I looked down at my feet, watching the fabric of my shoes flash and listening to the tap of the pavement as we walked.
When we reached the mermaid, Robin leaned in and gave me a stiff peck on the cheek, gripping the hair at the nape of my neck with a clutch that felt just a little tense, her squeeze a little too tight. Without a word, she turned and walked away, her figure casting a long shadow as she disappeared into the night. I walked home in a stunned trance, remembering as I reached my front door that I had told my mum I’d be staying at Robin’s (her house a cover for a party expected to go on until dawn). I climbed the stairs and nervously crawled into bed, my mind uselessly grasping for answers as I tumbled into a cold, dreamless sleep.
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