BooksBarbecue
Back When We Were Friends
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Author
  5. 31
  6. 14
  7. 31
  8. 14
  9. 31
  10. 14
  11. 31
  12. 14
  13. 31
  14. 15
  15. 31
  16. 16
  17. 32
  18. 16
  19. 32
  20. 17
  21. 32
  22. 17
  23. 32
  24. 17
  25. 32
  26. 17
  27. 32
  28. 18
  29. 32
  30. 18
  31. 32
  32. 18
  33. 32
  34. 18
  35. 32
  36. 18
  37. 32
  38. 18
  39. 32
  40. 18
  41. 32
  42. 18
  43. 32
  44. 18
  45. 32
  46. 32
  47. 33
  48. 33
  49. 33
  50. Acknowledgments
  51. Discussion Questions
  52. Booklist

“Oh my God, I can’t believe these have been up on your wall this whole time?” she walked over and examined them. Then pointed to one of my favorites. She stroked it lovingly, while I joined her side. “I can’t believe this one is up.”

“Of course. It’s the best photo ever taken.”

“What must your friends think of me?”

It was a photo we’d taken one day when we’d got spectacularly day-drunk in the sun. During a dreamlike trip to the local Morrisons to pick up more to drink, Jessica and I got obsessed with watching this toddlers’ car ride in the entrance hall. We’d decided to get in, and Jade took the photo of us crammed into this tiny yellow car, limbs escaping out of the windows, both our knickers on show, our heads thrown back in laughter as the ride bumped us around. What really made the photo, was the security guard in the background, making his way over to chuck us out. The dramatic irony was sheer perfection. It was taken literally two seconds before we were carted away.

“They, quite rightly, think we are both legends.”

“I love this photo.” She stroked it again. When she turned back to me, I could see Jessica was over her weird mood. “I’ve really missed you, Fern.”

“I’ve missed you too!”

She hugged me, then broke away, opened my computer, and put on a track.

“That’s better,” she said, starting to dance. “Right. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

32

now.

It couldn’t be more daytime television. I got a funny feeling when I put my key in the lock of our front door. There was music playing, so my entry went unnoticed. A weird instinct hit me, telling me not to call out “hello.” I saw shoes that weren’t mine by the door. Designer sandals. No children’s shoes—just hers. Already I was thinking, He didn’t tell me she was around, and, he said he was just sitting in front of the fan. Already I knew. Had always known, from the second I let her back in my life. But in that moment, when I was quietly sliding my sweaty feet out of my sandals, I dared hope I was wrong. This couldn’t be happening again, surely? I heard laughter. Then voices over the music. I recognized Jessica’s flirtatious voice...

It wasn’t coming from the living room either. But our bedroom.

I couldn’t breathe. Could hardly walk. My knees disintegrated as I tiptoed through my own house. I was going to be sick. I was going to be sick on the floor. I paused outside, wanting to enjoy these last seconds of naivety...

Then I pushed open the door and it creaked.