For goodness’ sake, less than an hour ago we were bopping to Whitney Houston together and now we’re sitting in McDonald’s car park, possibly looking like drug dealers. Drug dealers who are going through some sort of weird break-up. Okay, so Isensed something was up but not this. It has knocked the wind out of my sails and I’m not sure what to say.
‘I… I think I’m not quite fitting in with a lot of my old life right now,’ she says eventually, in a small voice.
‘You’re going through a lot of change. You’ve been going through a lot of change for a while. Your mum, starting university, even Robyn getting older and getting ready to fly the nest… It’s bound to make you question everything but I promise you that we – Niamh and I – we love you very much. We always have. Even if we… if I… fucked up before. And if you’re willing to be friends with me even if things go sideways with Conal and we don’t manage to get over this current hurdle…’
‘You’ll get over the hurdle,’ she says in typical Laura fashion, deflecting the attention away from herself – doing what she can to make sure she doesn’t have to have the big serious conversation about herself. I know her game and I would call her out on it. I will call her out on it but just as soon as I’ve heard what she has to say because I am selfish and I do want to know why she believes Conal and I will get over this hurdle.
25
THE PHONE CALL
Becca
‘You’ll get over the hurdle because he loves you, and I’ve very much got the impression that you love him. You do love him?’ Laura is turned sideways in her seat now, looking straight at me. There is no room for avoidance in the front seat of a Peugeot 308.
I don’t even have to think about it. ‘Yes, I do. Of course I do.’
‘But you don’t want to live with him?’ Her tone is curious, not judgemental.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to live with him. In a lot of ways, this isn’t even about him. I don’t know if I want to live with anyone,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve been on my own a long time. I’ve gotten used to it, and to my own ways. My own quirks and my own routines. Being able to unapologetically be me when I’m inside my own four walls. You know, the me that wanders around in my favourite battered leggings and one of the twins’ oversized hoodies. The me that is very particular indeed about how the dishwasher should be stacked. Or the me that likes to have a disco inthe shower, or the me that becomes feral when my hormones are acting the maggot.’
Laura looks at me and shrugs. ‘I suppose you have to think about what it is you want more. The bathroom discos or the man you love? Or that, and I feel slightly nauseous even saying this because he is my brother, he might want to join you in the shower disco? Have you ever considered that he might actually like the slightly more manic, less groomed side of you?’
‘It’s a risk and I don’t like risks. We all have our insecurities, rational and irrational,’ I say, giving her a sad smile. ‘What if Conal sees that side of me and doesn’t like it? What if he leaves, like Simon did? What if… if it all goes wrong, and I end up losing myself again, and him… and you?’ I look away, knowing if I look her in the eye now, I will start to cry. ‘Like I didn’t think Niamh and I were pushing you away or excluding you, but clearly you feel that way and I’m so sorry that you do. I’m actually mortified that you do. I can try better and do better.’
My friend smiles at me. The kind of soft, sad smile that speaks of a lack of confidence in herself, which breaks my heart and makes me feel guilty for my selfishness.
She takes my hand and squeezes it. ‘I suppose we are both just complete messes when all is said and done.’
‘Total,’ I say as my stupid nervous system fails me and I start to cry anyway. ‘And it doesn’t always make sense.’
‘I’m sure somehow the menopause is to blame for it all,’ she says with a sniff, and I know that she is crying too.
‘No doubt about it,’ I say. ‘I thought they said when you reached midlife you no longer gave a flying you-know-what about everything?’
‘You’re forty-seven, Becks. You can say the proper bad words, you know.’ Laura gives a small laugh. ‘It can be very freeing to embrace the fuck out of so-called bad words. Who says they arebad anyway? They are just words. They have as much, or as little, power as we give them.’
‘Yes, miss,’ I say. ‘I’m just trying to cut down on them in case I swear in front of Clara.’
‘She can’t speak yet,’ Laura says. ‘She’s not going to repeat you. She’s still tiny.’
‘Perhaps – but that baby is clearly a genius and who knows, she could start talking any day and I don’t want the first words out of her mouth to be telling someone to “away and shite” or worse.’
We both smile, enjoying the brief respite from the very serious conversation we’ve been having to just enjoy a little bit of banter.
‘But yes,’ I say eventually. ‘I didn’t think we were supposed to become more paranoid and less confident.’
‘I think maybe society messes us up,’ Laura says. ‘It’s the patriarchy. Tells us we lose our use when we are older and past the childbearing years. We start to lose what the patriarchy tells us is beautiful, to grow into our older, glorious bodies, and while we should be able to fully embrace that, we’re made to feel like it’s a bad thing instead.’
‘It feels a bit like a bad thing,’ I say.
‘Cos of the patriarchy!’ she says, making a gesture that screams ‘Ta-da’. ‘Maybe you need to look at studying some feminist theories as well.’
‘I think I will leave that to you. You seem to have found your passion.’
‘I think I have,’ she says. ‘I feel more like me, the real me, than I ever have before. And that’s amazing, but it’s scary. I’m only a couple of days in and I feel like I am waking up to the me I was always supposed to be. Does that make me sound like a complete wanker?’
‘Not only does it not make you sound like a wanker, it makes you sound absolutely bloody amazing,’ I tell her, and I mean it and am delighted for her, until her words really start to sink in.
