Clara and Ruth were waiting in the Slug and Lettuce for me. They insisted I’d need a drink to celebrate my new-found freedom. I wasn’t sure it was right to be celebrating, but I was in definite need of a glass of wine or five.
I couldn’t believe I’d done it. I was a free woman. That tension in my neck from continuously treading on eggshells began to ease. I forced myself not to wonder where Rob was, if he was on his own. I hated the thought of it, but was relieved it was no longer my problem.
The Slug was busy as usual, packed with girls in tiny shorts and stilettos. I felt decidedly old for twenty-seven. I looked down at my light blue Superdry skinny’s and pink vest top and decided I better go shopping sometime soon. I didn’t want old clothes reminding me of old times.
I bought a bottle of Pinot Grigio and some nachos for the table. The girls welcomed me warmly with hugs and kisses. Clarascrutinised my face intently, waiting for me to break down and cry, but I felt sound, steady as a rock.
‘So how does it feel?’ She pushed her glasses further up her face to get a better look at me.
‘It feels strange, I won’t lie, but also exciting. Like my life is my own again. Anything could happen. Don’t get me wrong. You know what a control freak I am, the unknown is kind of terrifying too…’
‘Well, anything could happen, Lucy. It is exciting. I’m glad you’re ok. It was too much, too young. So much responsibility from such a young age. So, now you’ve officially left, when are you going to see lover boy? You could do with dusting the cobwebs off.’
She didn’t realise John was already one step ahead of her.
‘Funny you should mention it. He rang earlier. He booked me a flight for next weekend.’ I loved their widening eyes as I dropped that bomb jovially into the conversation.
‘Well, he’s keen, we’ll give him that.’ Ruth raised her eyebrows, taking a huge slug of her wine. ‘In all honesty, Lucy, if it was anyone but you, I’d say you were having a midlife crisis. But you’re probably the most sensible person I know. Have some fun for once. Whatever you do, don’t get serious too quickly. You need to be carefree for a while.’
‘You’re too late, Ruth,’ Clara exclaimed. ‘She’s already in love with him.’
‘You are not?’ Ruth turned to me accusingly for confirmation.
I looked down at my glass and said nothing.
‘You can’t be serious?’ Ruth questioned again.
‘I’m not saying anything, it’s too soon. But I have turned into one of these crazy bitches who checks her phone five hundred times a day and then when it finally does ring, I can’t bring myself answer it, because I don’t want to look like I’ve been sitting by it waiting desperately, even though that’s exactly whatI have been doing. It actually kills me to ignore it, but I do. Then I spend an agonising thirty minutes watching the clock, waiting until it’s an acceptable time to ring him back and say I was busy, or out for a drink or some other nonsense. I hate playing games, but I’m terrified of scaring him off too.’
‘I think if anything was going to scare him off, it would be the fact that a woman he met when extremely drunk on a stag weekend, left her husband of seven years to be with him.’ Ruth kept it real as usual.
‘I wasn’t that drunk.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘But what I haven’t told you is that he’s never had a relationship that lasted more than three months.’
‘And?’ Clara said. ‘He obviously never met the right one. Or are you telling us they always get rid of him after three months?’ She flicked her spiral curls from her face.
‘No, I think it’s generally him. He told me if he saw something in them he didn’t like, that would be it. He said he could never see past that one thing then, whatever it was, no matter how trivial.’ I blow out a have breath.
‘But girls, what if he sees something in me after three months? And he gives me the p45? It would be awful on so many levels, utterly humiliating and probably exactly what I deserve, after my less than perfect behaviour. Karma you could call it.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Clara assured me. ‘If you want my opinion, I’ll give it to you.’ She looked at me for confirmation that I was ready to hear some brutal home truths.
I wasn’t ready, but if my best friends couldn’t be honest with me, then who could?
‘Give it to me.’ I knocked back my glass of wine and poured another.
‘I think it’s an infatuation, Lucy. I think you want him because you can’t – sorry couldn’t have him. You have chemistry, no doubt about it. You’ll go to Ireland next weekend,have loads of filthy sex and then eventually, whether it be a week, a month or a year down the line, the novelty will wear off. Lets face it, you can’t seriously see this working out long term, can you?’
Clara takes a sip from her drink before continuing. ‘You’re an ambitious city slicker who loves to shop in the biggest malls and drink cocktails in busy bars. You thrive on the hustle and bustle of the city. He’s a farmer from a tiny farming town in the west of fucking nowhere with no shops, no bars, and the only opportunity you may get, and that’s if you’re lucky, is to buy another cow from the mart.’
Fuck, that was honest. I hadn’t thought about the specifics of the situation that far in advance. I’d been so focused on breaking free, consumed with thoughts of a short-term nature, I hadn’t got past the divorce in my mind.
‘Look, girls, I don’t know about any of it to be honest.’ I ran my fingers loosely through my hair. ‘I have this feeling in my gut that keeps telling me to go with it, see what happens. I’m beginning to sound like my mother.’ I put my head in my hands and the girls sniggered, knowing what a fatalist my mother was.
‘Are you sure it’s not just wind?’ Clara spluttered. She didn’t believe in gut feelings and fate.
‘Don’t over-think it,’ Ruth advised. ‘Visit John, enjoy yourself and what will be will be.’
‘Oh my God, Lucy, I’m not sure you’re ready!’ Clara’s hands flew dramatically up to her perfectly made-up face.
