Do You Remember the First Time?

forlorn.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ I said briskly, breathlessly pulling on my coat. Thank God Tashy had the car outside. He couldn’t, though, could he? Surely he wouldn’t. Not with that girl …?
    Stanzi stood up. ‘It’s awful,’ she said. ‘It’s so awful what is happening to me.’
    ‘Oh, petal,’ I said, ‘will it keep? It’s just … there’s this thing …’
    ‘Yes, there is always time for your BIG FAT friend,’ said Stanzi hotly. Her face was red and white and she looked as if she was about to explode.
    Tashy looked at me.
    ‘OK. What is it?’ I said.
    Stanzi gulped back a sob. ‘It is Kendall,’ she said. ‘He does not … he does not love me …’
    ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ said Tashy, ‘can we get going? And I’m not fat.’
    ‘Ssh,’ I said. ‘This is very important when you’re sixteen.’
    ‘I shall never get over him.’ The tears were dribbling over her hot cheeks. She looked five years old as she started to cry properly.
    ‘Can you tell us about it in the car?’ I said, putting an arm round her and propelling her towards the door. ‘Someone else is never going to get over something either if we don’t get a bit of a fucking move on.’
    I tried to give directions to a frustrated Tashy whilst comforting a frantically miserable Constanzia with the remnants of an old tissue I found under the seat.
    ‘He said we were too young to get serious!’ she wailed.
    In the front, Tashy snorted. I shot her a look.
    ‘Maybe you are,’ I suggested. ‘It is possible.’
    ‘You don’t understand,’ she wept. ‘You’ve never been in love.’
    ‘You’ll get over it,’ I said desperately. ‘Left here. Past the horrible little pink office that looks like a tanning salon.’
    Tashy snorted again.
    ‘It does too look like a tanning salon,’ I said.
    ‘You’re misinterpreting my snort,’ she said.
    ‘Look.’ I grabbed Stanzi by the shoulders. ‘Nothing that happens at this age should be so awful it bothers you for the rest of your life. Nothing.’
    Tashy attempted another snort. ‘Because if it does,’ shesaid, twisting her head round to the ball of tears in the back seat, ‘you can let it poison your whole life. And when that happens, all hell can break loose.’
    ‘Yes, OK, Buffy the Vampire Slayer,’ I said. ‘Can you keep your eyes on the road?’
    Tashy’s phone started ringing.
    ‘It’s illegal to drive with your phone,’ pouted Stanzi, not too sad to get one in.
    ‘Sssh,’ I said. Then I took her in my arms and gave her a big cuddle.
    ‘Hi,’ Tashy was saying. ‘… No, no, I’m fine. Look, I can’t really … I can’t really … No, it’s not a good time.’
    ‘Who’s that?’ I asked her with my eyebrows. She shook her head at me fiercely.
    ‘No, we’re going to see Flora’s dad.’
    ‘Shut up!’ I yelped at her. Stanzi’s tears were wetting my bosom.
    ‘Ssh. No, don’t come … Don’t! No! I mean it. No!’ She hung up the phone.
    ‘Who the hell was that?’ I demanded as we swerved round a corner.
    ‘Nobody,’ she said.
    My dad’s car was parked outside his office.
    ‘Shit, I said, under my breath. My dad never worked on a Saturday. Workaholism isn’t something you’d think when you looked at him. All I could think of was my mother’s face the night I got home from the party.
    Next to it was a car, and straight away I just knew. It was something about the prissiness of it. It was a cheap car, butwith high-end specs – black leather seats, alloy wheels, all that useless crap. It was red, but not a shocking, bright red. More an orangey hue which hinted at danger without being remotely threatening. It was spotlessly clean. I knew it was hers. I knew it immediately.
    Tashy came forward.
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘Let me. I have to.’
    She nodded wordlessly.
    ‘Stay and look after Stanzi.’
    ‘She can fuck off!’ shouted Stanzi, still in the back of the car. ‘She can’t tell me what to do.’
    Well, at least they weren’t having sex. I couldn’t have coped with that. I would have had a big old primal episode right there and then, and it would have scarred my adult life for ever. Although it might have made a good conversation piece for those future student conversations about whose parents are more of a fuck-up.
    My dad was talking to her urgently in the office. She looked like she’d made a massive effort: the roots of her hair were freshly done, and she was wearing a bright flowery blouse. She was a big plain