“Do you not want us to live?”
“Have you met the brake at all?”
I clutched on and forgot about my phone. I didn’t know why I was torturing myself; I also knew that I needed to give Carter the chance to explain himself.
“Sorry everyone, I thought the turn was a bit further up. We’re nearly there now.” She didn’t sound sorry at all.
Harriet was the sweetest, pleasantest person you could meet, apart from the sadistic side that was quite shocking if you didn’t expect it.
I picked my phone up again and opened up my messages, scrolling to the last one from Carter.
Laurie is a friend – nothing else, but it’s complicated. I’d rather explain in person. Please don’t be mad at me X
Then another sent a couple of hours ago.
Have a great weekend in Stratford. X
Then there had been nothing. Carter clearly had a lot going on and I was wondering how much it had to do with this Laurie.
I started to type out a message. I wasn’t good at ignoring people. I was good at taking my time to give a situation space, to process what was going on and to let other people do the same. It was unlike me to not respond out of spite, which I knew this was.
Carter would want to hear from me. He hated the silent treatment.
Even just as friends.
Maybe that’s all we were meant to be.
When I’d mentioned to him about us both being single for the first time in forever, I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. When I’d had a boyfriend, he’d either been dating someone or just being a bit of a lad. The times when I’d been single in my twenties, he’d been seeing one woman or another, and the possibility of us being more than friends had never been there, I’d never even considered it.
So why I’d mentioned it at the start of last September, I wasn’t sure. I had thought about it; Carter had sent me a photo of him at the beach and he’d looked ridiculously gorgeous, all sandy haired and a scratching of stubble, his torso defined, and his legs tanned. He’d been holding a surfboard, although he hadn’t done much surfing, he’d told me later.
The photo had reminded me of how much he’d starred in my teenage dreams.
I started to type back.
Will try, thanks X
Hope you have a good weekend X
I deleted that one because I didn’t want him to have a good weekend. I’d had a crap week feeling utterly confused so I was hoping for karma.
Have the weekend you deserve.
I deleted it. Locked my phone. Realised Fallon was looking at me.
“Shit or get off the pan, Rosaline. That was a Shakespeare name, wasn’t it?” She looked impressed with herself.
“Rosaline was in Romeo and Juliet. At the start of the play, Romeo’s in love with her, but it isn’t reciprocated. Then he sees Juliet and completely forgets about Rosaline, which is probably good for her, else she’d have ended up dead on the stage too.” Our resident Shakespearean expert chipped in.
“So Romeo wasn’t in love, he was in lust,” Fallon added, probably stopping Harriet from starting a two hour lecture that would continue through at least one bottle of champagne. “People died because he wanted to get his end away. Jesus.”
“He was fickle,” I added, happy to be distracted. “And she was enthralled by him. They’d have never lasted anyway. He’d have turned his head every time he saw a pretty woman.”
“Girl,” Fallon corrected. “She was a girl. Can we talk about a more realistic play? Macbeth. I feel like I could’ve played a good Lady Macbeth.”
“So who would we all have been as Shakespearean characters?” Harriet’s driving seemed to have improved now we were on an A road with a speed limit and just one lane. “Fallon would’ve been Lady Macbeth.”
“Except I’d have made sure Macbeth wouldn’t have lost his mind and I certainly wouldn’t have felt guilty.” She folded her arms. “Or am I being too harsh on myself?”
