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

Ben had gone before I even thanked him for the tea. Left to stew in my confusion and dehydration—wondering why I woke up on the sofa, and not in his arms. I rummaged for my phone in my bag, which had spilled out its contents like an upended bottle of wine—thanking the Lord it was one of my working from home days so I didn’t have to face a crushing Tube carriage. My phone screen was blank, and it took five minutes to get over the mental hurdles required to fetch my charger. I plugged it in and then ran a shower while it charged. I washed the night off me, my makeup dripping in black rivers down my face. A bruise was coming up on my leg. When I was dripping in a towel, I perched on the end of the bed and loaded up my phone.

Jessica had left a voice note:

“God, sorry for just leaving like that. You home OK? I swear to God, I only caught my train by a frog’s whisker. Is that the saying? Probably not. Fucking hell, I am drunnnnnnkkkkkkk. Anyway, I just want to say sorry for going so hard at you about how shit men are. Please ignore me. I am just a sad drunk divorced mother. Don’t let me tarnish your life with my fucking consequences of my bad fucking life decisions. Anyway, GET HOME SAFE. Ignore everything I say, always. I’ve missed you so much, Fern.”

The last part of the night tumbled back to me. Fragments of memories making it through to my long-term. Of laughing so hard I spilled my fifth drink all down myself. Of reminiscing about our disastrous haircuts, fashions we couldn’t believe we wore, music we couldn’t believe we actually listened to, boys we couldn’t believe we found sexually attractive. And then...

There’s no such thing as good men and bad men...they are the same men...they just treat different women differently based on how they view you... There it was. The reason I’d slept on the sofa. Dim recollections of stumbling into the flat shuffled through my mind. I’d stood in the bedroom swaying, watching Ben sleep, and the poison of Jessica’s words seeped into my bloodstream. I hadn’t trusted him. Had almost hated him, believing her mantra.

Was Ben a bad man to some other woman out there?

At 1:00 a.m. that morning, I’d certainly thought so. I’d been too freaked out to even share a bed with him. But now? With a headache, a cup of tea made with love, and the cold light of day. I shook my head, before holding my skull, as doing so hurt so much. No. Not Ben. I could trust Ben. Jessica, on the other hand, I still wasn’t sure.

14

november 2000