This is so typical. There I was a few weeks ago, having a lovely time at Obi’s wedding, thinking I was moving on, that I was doing really well, that I was set to embody this amazing gutsy woman that Uncle Chido thought I could be, and next thing I know, I’m calling Matthew’s mum several times and, when she doesn’t pick up, leaving her whiny voicemails.
Yes. Iknow.His mum. What was I thinking?
I blame Mary Berry. Last night, I was sitting on the sofa all cozy in my slanket—a blanket with sleeves; Matthew got me it as a joke one Christmas, but who’s laughing now?—and I thought I’d watch some old episodes ofThe Great British Bake Off,because it’s comforting and the cheerful world it portrays is one I’d very much like to be a part of. The competitors were baking away and there was Mary Berry, being supportive, encouraging, and lovely.
It made me think of Gail. She loved Mary Berry. She had all her cookbooks. We sometimes watchedBake Offtogether when Matthew and I visited. We’d spout our opinions about the various creations and cheer on our favorites. It was really quite adorable.
Now, I have to watch it on my own. And that’s all Matthew’s fault. First I felt sad about this, and then I felt angry. Because why do I have to lose Gail? Why do we have to never speak again? Why can’t we be buddies? Surely, she wants to. Gaillovesme.
Maybe she loves me a little less after seeing me karate-kick her son in the balls, but she has to admit that he deserved it. What if she’s been really missing me all this time and feels horribly sad about everything that happened? What if she wants to check in on me, but feels she can’t because of Matthew? What if she’s been waiting for me to call her?
That’s the line of thinking that made me do the stupid thing.
I didn’t realize at the time that calling Matthew’s mum was a stupid idea. I thought it wasbrilliant.It showed I really cared and I wasn’t breaking any rules because I wasn’t contacting himandit reminded him of my existence.
Genius.
Maybe she’d tell him I’d called and he would be really jealous, desperate to hear how I am, begin to wonder if he’d made a mistake and then come knocking on the door.
Last night, in my slanket, it all made perfect sense.
I called her and as it rang, I thought about how calm and collected I was going to sound. I would be like, “Oh hey, Gail, how are you? I was just sitting here watchingBake Offand it reminded me of you. I do hope you’re well?” But I didn’t get the chance to show her how cool and collected I was because it kept ringing and then went to voicemail.
I hung up and stared at my phone in betrayal. Why didn’t she pick up? She might have been busy.Orshe might have thought that I was calling her drunkenly, as people are known to do, but I wasn’t (this time anyway). That made me think that it would probably be a good idea to call her again to explain that I wasn’t drunk-calling her. So, I pressed her contact again and it started ringing.
When it rang out and went to voicemail again, I felt a little confused. The first time she missed the call is understandable, but the second? Unless, she really was busy. I put my phone down and got back to my television viewing.
Twenty torturous minutes later, she still had not called back.No oneis busy for twenty minutes on a Thursday evening, right?
I picked up my phone determinedly and phoned her again. This time when she didn’t answer, a thought struck me and chilled me to the bone. What if the reason she’s not picking up is because she’s meeting Matthew’s new girlfriend? What if they’re sitting round the table enjoying dinner and that’s why she can’t pick up the phone? What if they’re watchingBake Offtogether?
How could she?!
I almost started hyperventilating at this level of betrayal and I called her again to ask her how she could be sofickleandshallowand not even careone jotabout me, even though I spentyearspicking out her birthday presents when Matthew couldn’t be arsed.
When she didn’t pick up that time, the anger subsided and the sadness set in. That’s when I left the voicemail. It wasn’t too long,thank goodness,but it was mortifyingly long enough. It went something along these lines:
“Oh hey, Gail, it’s Freya. I was calling because I was watching old episodes ofBake Offand it made me feel so sad and now you won’t pick up my calls and… oh god. Never mind. Sorry. Bye, Gail.”
Then I realized what I’d done and had to call again to leave the following voicemail:
“Hi, Gail, it’s me again, Freya. Please don’t tell Matthew about this. Forget this happened, if that’s okay. Thank you, Gail. I’m so sorry. Bye.”
And then I buried my head under my slanket and remained like that wondering how I could beso stupidfor a very long time until my phone vibrated with a message from her.
Hi Freya. I’m so sorry I missed your calls.
I was at the cinema watching a film about
a robotic hippo that gets out of control and
eats a lot of people. It wasn’t a very good film.
I hope you’re all right. Have a pleasant evening.
Gail
It’s a miracle I even woke up this morning after reading a message like that. I can’t bear to tell Ruby and Leo about it yet. I was already embarrassed enough about the whole episode, but that message was the cherry on top. For starters, it’s worrying how much of it is dedicated to a film about a robotic hippo. And she doesn’t evenmentionthe voicemails. But the “have a pleasant evening” is the clincher. Soformal! So distant. Like a knife twisted through the heart.
