She sighs. “Mara, you’re just... look at you.”
“The hair?”
“Yes, the hair, but you look so different. I mean in your smile. You seem lighter. Happier. Less”—she pulls a face—“manic?”
“I guess I am,” I say. “I’ve been working hard to try to get out there, and it’s been really good. I mean, most of it has anyway. The eyelash extensions were a low moment.” I laugh.
“I’m happy for you,” she says, but she looks as though she’s heartbroken.
“How many close friends do you have, Charlie?”
“I don’t know. Including mum friends? Five or six. And my sister?”
“Well, up until a couple of months ago I would have answered one.”
I feel the tingle of tears in my eyes as I say it, but I blink them away and continue. “I’ve been so lonely. I felt rejected. And I know it isn’t fair on you, you’re just living your life with your husband and your baby.”
“I have done my best,” she begins to protest. “You know, Alex is rarely home with the new start-up... I’ve been lonely too.”
“I know, Charlie. I’m sorry. I relied too much on you. And I was scared to make friends. You were always enough. Until you weren’t.”
I sigh and look down at my perfectly manicured nails, care of Samira’s time and attention and friendship.
“I found it hard to make other friends. It was the risk of rejection I was scared of, but mostly I was scared that when people got too close they would see all these faults in me and run for the hills. I kept myself small. My circle small. It was like the more invisible I was, the better.”
“Mara, I really don’t think you’re invisible,” she says.
I put my coffee down. “I know you didn’t. Charlie, you were my whole world.”
She softens, and she looks down, but not before I can see a tear in her eye.
“I opened my world. I needed to. I opened it beyond you and my bedroom, and I’ve met some really lovely people.”
Charlie pushes her hair back from her face, twisting her wedding ring round in her fingers, and then gazes out the window.
“I’m sorry, I’m not exactly sure what this means for me,” she says, looking back at me finally. “Are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?”
I reach across the table and grab her hand. “No,” I say, squeezing it a little. “I’m just saying that you don’t need to beeverythinganymore.”
But as I say it, I realize that in a grown-up way, we are breaking apart from the friendship that was and moving forward into something new. I am braver now. Icanmake more friends. And I can have Charlie too.
My phone beeps again, and I look down at the WhatsApp notification from Ash.
Working through your to do list, let me know if you’ve done any of it.
Then there is a snap of the list, and a smiley face. I feel warm.
“So, what happened with the cellist?” Charlie is saying now. “You’ve really, truly put that to bed?”
“Yes,” I say, “I think so. I haven’t even looked at a photo of him in days, and although I’m very much aware the last Friday in August isnextFriday, I am also ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure he isn’t going to come. That he was never going to come. And I’m having a party on that night even. That’s how sure I am. A late kind of flat warming. You should come!”
“Next Friday?” she says, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes...” I pause for a moment. “We only decided last night. I would have called you.”
“It’s okay, Mara,” she says, waving the thought away. “Youhavebeen busy.”
“Ash is so great, Charlie. So...”
