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“Oh please, take it there.”
SEVEN
“I’m solo-traveling, and it’s my last night in London,” says my new friend, Rachel. She’s visiting from Amsterdam. “Would you want to hang out?”
“Yes!”
And so, my off-script adventure advances in London, though not as I expect it to. Since this is Rachel’s last night in the city and she has an early flight in the morning, she wants us to drink at her hostel bar. It’s not mymentalnight in Camden, but as she is my only friend here, I’m pressed to agree with the plan. Getting uproarious on London streets will wait. I’ll go to her hostel tonight, pray some sort of wilding happens, or, at least, enough chaos for me to feel like London is a trip where the battery of my youth and recklessness is spent. Thinking about after… when I go back home… is not allowed. Even though my phone shows a message from my mother. She has forwarded me a link to some media training that I should look atwhenever I have a chance.
Not today. Not yet.
As it’s still early, we explore Leadenhall Market before our night adventure begins. The market is a magical, aristocratic place that also houses a Pizza Express. While we walk around,Huan trails behind us, and I feel like I should explain why before Rachel notices on her own.
“So, that is my stalker, Huan.” I glance furtively over my shoulder at him. Our eyes meet briefly, and his mouth curls. I wonder if he heard me.
Rachel peeks over her shoulder, and her mouth parts. “Can I get a stalker, too?”
Before I can answer, she shakes her head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take your situation lightly. What level of stalker are we dealing with?”
I think about the most egregious thing Huan has done since he’s gotten here. “He manhandles me around traffic.”
“Lord! Do you think he’s waiting to push you in?”
She sounds so horrified that a bunch of men in suits heading intoThe Lamb Tavernturn their heads at us. Seeing how we’re unharmed, they go back to their hot takes on crypto.
I put my hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “If we are speaking technically, I’m manhandled away from traffic. However, manhandling ismanhandling.”
“Hm. He does have the right build to muscle a woman around.”
We inadvertently look back at Huan again, who remains a respectable distance away. I wonder if he’s doing his bodyguard thing where it’s not your job to care about conversations even if they are about you, as long as certain logistical safety concerns are satisfied. Is he really going to keep his word and not interfere? To not step in, regardless of whatever shenanigans I participate in? Tonight will be the ultimate test.
We walk past a shop selling outerwear fit for the English countryside.
“Your stalker has pronounced hands and forearms,” Rachel notes casually. “Distracting, really. He should put those away.”
“Are you blushing, Rachel?”
“What? No. Maybe. But tell me about his creepiness”—she fidgets as we divert intoFlying Tiger Copenhagen, a shop stuffed with colourful knick-knacks—“not that I don’t believe women being stalked. I believe women. Only you seem relaxed about his behaviour, so I’m notnotrelaxed—and bollocks, is that victimizing the victim?”
We hide between displays of greeting cards.
You Light Up My Lifecatches my eye. How unoriginal.
I rewrite it in my head.
You Light Up Every Corner, Every Trouble, Every Rough Ignored Bit of Me.
“Actually, I don’t think he came in with us.” Rachel pulls out her cellphone. “If he really is a stalker, we can call the authorities now.”
Shit.My hands go up. “Wait.”
“Why? He’s been following us, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, but—there’s a reason.”
Rachel tilts her head to the side.
Inwardly, I slump.What do I say? What can I say?People don’t have bodyguards. If I admit to having one, I am no longer a normal person. I’m on a microscope slide. Earmarked. Different. Labeled.
