‘It’ll be fine,’ she says again. ‘You’ve got a couple more weeks of therapy, right? By the time you’re done, everyone will have forgotten about this andMorning Teawill be pleading with you to come back.’
I stare down at the floor. ‘I don’t think I’ll be continuing with the therapy,’ I say quietly.
‘What?’ She frowns. ‘I thought you were feeling much more positive about it all? I thought it was helping?’
‘I…’ I stutter, trying to get the words out. ‘I fucked up, Sam.’ My voice breaks a little. ‘I… kissed Edward.’
She audibly gasps. ‘Youwhat?’ Her eyes are wide. ‘You kissedyour therapist?’
‘I know,’ I whisper. ‘It’s so messed up.’
She frowns, conflicted. ‘It kind of is, Liv, sorry.’
I feel a spike of defensiveness. ‘You’ve been following Arshiya around like a lost puppy,’ I point out and she shrugs.
‘Sure, I know that. I’m super curious about her, and maybe I wanted to impress her a bit,’ she concedes. ‘Butgetting offwith your therapist? That’s really over the line.’
‘Great, thanks for your support,’ I snap sarcastically, and we fall into a strange silence.
‘Would it help to do some Justin stalking?’ Sam offers hopefully, and I tut.
‘No.’
‘Oh come on!’ she goads. ‘It’ll distract you from kissing the wrong people. And it’ll be a laugh.’ She smiles widely. ‘Orla posted a new picture of them together earlier. I think they were at a museum, can you even imagineJustinat a museum? Didn’t he once say he’d never actually read a whole book?’
‘Sam, don’t!’ I snap again. ‘I’m trying not to get sucked into that kind of thing anymore. Why are you pushing this?’
‘What are you talking about?’ she teases. ‘You love this stuff. Don’t be boring. C’mon, you know how tedious my life is. I need you to bring the fun.’
‘I’m not here to be your live-in entertainment.’ I sit up straighter, feeling a bubbling up in my stomach. ‘It’s unhealthy –bad– for me to be constantly obsessing over my ex and over Orla. You must know that. Why are you encouraging it? Do you just enjoy seeing me make a fool of myself?’
She makes a face. ‘It’s not that deep,’ she says, and the throwaway comment makes my fury notch all the way up to ten. This is our generation’s way of saying, ‘Calm down, dear,’ and I cannotstand it. I’ve had a lifetime of men telling me I should laugh things off, that I shouldn’t take offence, that I shouldn’t take cruelty so seriously. It’s just a joke, babe!It’s not that deep. Somehow it hurts even worse coming from my best friend.
‘Itisthat deep, actually, Sam,’ I say loudly. ‘I think you see me as some frothy idiot who can keep you amused in your boredom. We laugh about you and your narcissistic main character energy, but I’m not the supporting character either. The sidekick in your own personal box office smash. The sweary Bridget Jones-y best friend, just there for the comic relief. Just because you’re unhappy in your life, doesn’t mean I’m here to amuse you. You seem to enjoy my drama, even when it hurts me! My pain is your fun.’
Sam’s nostrils flare. ‘That’s total bollocks,’ she retorts, but I don’t shut down and placate. I say the things I want to say.
‘It’s not bollocks,’ I reply hotly. ‘You’ve been loving all this awful drama surrounding me lately. You found it hilarious that I went viral as Tiramisu Girl and you found it hilarious that I got obsessed with Justin and his new girlfriend. Youencouraged me to follow them around, to stalk them, to press pause on my life so I could obsess over it. You should’ve stopped me going to Orla’s podcast event, not joyfully joined in! You should’ve stopped me making a fool of myself. I was a wreck after that; it messed me up!’
‘I was trying to help you!’ Sam says, looking furious. ‘I was trying to cheer you up and make you feel better. I wasn’t going to shame you for your unhealthy impulses. If I’d said don’t do it, you probably would’ve done it anyway, but just been on your own, feeling a lot worse about it.’
‘Rubbish!’ I retort as she nods frantically, her expression livid.
‘It’s true. Look at this ridiculous new fuck up with Edward! I was nowhere near that, was I? You made all that happen without any enabling from me.’
‘Yes, thanks so much, Sam,’ I yell. ‘Thanks for pointing out that I fuck everything up and ruin everything all on my own. I really appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome!’ she yells back. We glare at each other crossly for another few seconds, then I stomp away in the direction of my room. I hear Sam doing the same, her bedroom door slamming loudly a few seconds later. As I throw myself onto my bed, trying not to cry angry tears, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I pull it out, hardly able to see through my white-hot rage. It’s from Edward, and it’s the most formal message I’ve ever received from a person under the age of sixty.
Olivia,
I apologise wholeheartedly for my unprofessional conduct and lapse in judgement earlier today. My mother is home safe and well now, thank you for the support. I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s not a good idea for us to continue our sessions together going forward. Today was a clear case of transference and I will take full accountability withMorning Teawhen I let them know we’ve stopped our sessions prematurely. I shouldn’t have agreed to it initially, given our existing professional relationship. I can, of course, refer you to someone outside the collective, if it’s of interest.
All the best,
Edward
