I found myself sitting in my lecture on Monday and Mrs Clean drifted into my thoughts as she was doing more and more often these days. The vanishing red shoe was all I could think about. I kept going back to her profile and searching each photo on her grid for other clues about her life. I needed to know more about this woman, how she got to live in this house, the house I had dreamt about, so full of symmetry and so aesthetically pleasing. The house I had seen myself living in with my family. What exactly did it take to become an influencer? How did it work? I had been so removed from the world of social media for so long – I had been living my life purely on autopilot, it seemed. Now I was re-engaged in society, I had so many questions. So many thoughts, specifically about Mrs Clean, this woman who was living a fabulous life of luxury and cleanliness. She had begun to drip-feed me tiny snippets of her life every day. The more she posted, the more I wanted to see, but it still felt like it was never enough.
I was scrolling through another post of Mrs Clean’s and hadn’t heard the tutor call my name. Suddenly, I felt eyes on me and it was like I was fourteen again and in secondary school as I felt the heat rush to my neck and cheeks. I looked up at Sheila, the lecturer, and only then could I hear the echo of her question lingering.
I put my mobile down on the table, face down.
‘Sorry, I missed that – I was researching a pattern technique,’ I said, feeling more guilty at my lie.
Sheila gave me a knowing look and turned back to the board and continued with the lecture. Thirty-six years old and I could still be made to feel like an incompetent child. Wow. The shame gripped me and then slowly it began to morph into something else; a desire to run, to do anything other than sit still. I managed to hold on until the lesson had ended, and then I rushed across the courtyard to the ladies’ on the far side of the college where it was always quiet. I knew I could open and close a door a few times and not be spotted by anyone. I emerged from the toilet a few minutes later and began my walk back across the courtyard. I turned left to a patch of grass and found a spot away from people. I sat down and pulled out my lunch box; a salad and a smoothie. Once I had helped with the clearing up of the party, I prepared my lunches for the next few days as part of my weekly meal planning that Mrs Clean had demonstrated on her feed. I pulled open the lid on the Tupperware just as a shadow fell over me. I looked up and saw Will.
‘Hey, Regi, how are you? How was the party?’
I strained to look up at him, his height towering above me.
‘Hey, Will.’
‘May I?’ he pointed to the patch of grass next to me.
‘Sure.’ I nodded. I felt a mixture of embarrassment for the last time I had seen him and my episode in the clothes shop. But then I also felt something else, something which felt like relief, that I was no longer sat on this vast patch of grass alone.
‘How was the party?’ Will sat with his knees pulled up to his chest. I was grateful he had chosen to ask me about the party and not the incident over the weekend. Although I still felt the topic hovering over us, as though it needed to be spoken about. I wasn’t sure if I should have thanked him for his kindness and understanding or skate over it, pretend it hadn’t happened.
‘It was good.’ I picked at my salad with the fork I had packed. I looked at Will. ‘To be honest, I didn’t see much of it – I drank too much and was in bed by ten.’
Will scoffed. ‘That’s brilliant. Nice one. A girl after my own heart.’
I shifted a glance at Will, my look filled with questioning. It had been too long since I had had to assess a man’s intentions. Will seemed keen to be around me, and he had asked me out for a drink; I should be confidently translating that into ‘he likes me’. But though I felt something simmering in my gut whenever I saw him, how could I reciprocate, how could I fulfil my role as a partner in a relationship? Up until now, the thought had never crossed my mind. I was in a place that was too dark, that even the light that came from the feeling of a new relationship couldn’t touch it. I still had the echoes of accusations that had been screamed so close to my face, followed so suddenly by the empty silence that was just as palpable.
‘I dig an early night,’ Will said, gauging my look. I looked back down into my salad. He cleared his throat. ‘But you rocked your top though, I hope?’
I nodded. Trying to arrange some semblance of words. ‘Right through until morning,’ I said brightly.
‘You slept in your clothes? Now I’m impressed.’ Will gave a quick raise of his eyebrows.
‘Bit of a lightweight these days,’ I said, allowing a small smile to edge its way across my lips.
Will smiled with his eyes, then looked up towards the sky and closed them, showing his appreciation for the warm midday sun. He opened them again and brought his attention to me. I had to quickly look away so that he wouldn’t catch me staring.
‘Sorry you didn’t get to have much of a time at the party. Maybe I should have hung around, taken you out for a drink
