I smile.
Then I type.
Emma:Dan and I are going to get milk together later.
There’s a pause.
Then chaos.
Lou:OH MY GOD.
Clara:I’m sorry… what?
Hannah:Together… as in… just the two of you?
Emma:Yes.
Lou:Emma.
Clara:This feels filthy.
Hannah:Do you need me to babysit or are you just raw-dogging Tesco?
I choke on air.
Emma:STOP IT.
Lou:Make sure you wear protection.
Clara:Don’t forget foreplay. Maybe compare brands of semi-skimmed seductively.
Hannah:If you come back pregnant from aisle three I’m not responsible.
I’m laughing so hard Ruby turns around in the buggy to check I haven’t lost my mind.
But beneath the jokes, there’s something else.
Support.
Hope.
They know what this is really about.
Lou:Proud of you though.
Clara:It’s small. But it’s not small.
Hannah:Milk is the gateway drug to communication.
I stare at that last message longer than I mean to. Because that’s exactly what it feels like. A doorway.
The day stretches strangely.
I tidy.
I half-work.
I attempt to play with Ruby but keep glancing at the clock like a teenager waiting for a first date.
