Page 55 of In This Together

Andrea’s shoulders heaved and Hannah almost felt bad. She knew Andrea’s insecurities and had just exposed them in the street. But not unprompted.

‘You need to decide whether you’re my friend or my assistant and realise that there’s a line you can’t blur.’

Hannah scoffed. ‘We’ve blurred the line for years. I’malwayslooking out for you, Andi, no matter how bad your mood or what stupid things you decide to do.’

‘No, Hannah, I’m always looking out for you. Any other boss would have kicked you out on your ass already, not brought you over from Sanfia Records and kept giving you pay rises to help with the ever-growing family.’

What stung Hannah, what made her feel like someone was driving a stake through her heart, wasn’t the words being thrown at her but the person saying them. She looked through the revolving door to the office. She did need her job. She needed the salary and the stability, now more than ever. But she could find these things closer to home, where her commute would be negligible.

She stayed with Andrea because she was her best friend. Because Andrea needed Hannah more than she would ever admit. Because working with Andrea had always made her feel like she was just a city gal, free as a bird. Her own person, not a mom or a wife.

Today, though, Hannah wanted to tell her so-called friend where to shove her job and her apparent pity vote. She had always defended Andrea. She knew Andrea behaved the way she had because she’d had a tough life in many respects. But times change. And since coming over to Stellar and getting her promotion to CEO, working with Andrea had changed.

She moved her focus to Andrea, who was looking back at her.Say sorry,she willed.Apologise to me for being a dick.

But Andrea stood defiantly, her hands in her pockets.Of course she won’t apologise.

‘I’m going home,’ Hannah said.

‘We’ve got work to do,’ Andrea told her, not an ounce of compassion or remorse in her tone. Just cold, bitter Andrea. Shut down and in protection mode.

Hannah shook her head as she walked past her friend.

‘Are you coming back?’ Andrea asked, a hint of feeling breaking her steely demeanour.

Hannah let the words reach her back and decided not to respond. She had had enough. Enough of Andrea’s shitty attitude. Enough of her digs about Hannah’s family, as if Andrea’s life, with her spacious, empty apartment and nothing but work and men she fucked, was better than Hannah’s children and husband.

She walked without purpose, not knowing if she would go back, until she reached the river. Then she walked alongside the Hudson, dipping away and coming back as the sidewalk wound around buildings and through parks. She walked until the low heels of her ankle boots made the balls of her feet ache.

Coming to sit on a bench, she looked out in the direction of Manhattan. There had been a time – a long time ago – when Hannah thought she could be anything she dreamed of. She had been one of the most attractive girls in school, when she was a teen. Back then, the thought of being a model or a movie star, or that the mess-around sessions in Andrea’s dad’s studio recording herself, Andrea and Sofia singing along to Destiny’s Child tracks would lead to fame and fortune, had seemed possible.

Then responsibility after responsibility started to pile up and dreams were replaced by a need to keep a job, to make money and to try to keep a semblance of independence.

She was tired. So incredibly tired. From nappies to gym class uniform, to back-chatting. From a husband who felt like he didn’t need to run life decisions by her and whose sleep deprivation seemed to trump hers. From the fact that no other person in her house would leave the toilet seat theeffdown.

Work was as much her escape as it was a necessity. Work meant she commuted into New York each day in smart clothes – though admittedly occasionally covered in puke – with her hair done and a little make-up to make her look human. It meant she sat on a train with people around her who didn’t know how many kids she had or that her dreams of college graduation and whatever else had been dashed by a youthful pregnancy. That she earned halfway decent money and had adult conversations with people, where her opinion mattered.

But recently, her opinion hadn’t mattered. The level playing field that had always existed between her and Andrea, despite any hierarchy in employment, had tipped against her.

Was it that Andrea was unhappy and taking it out on Hannah? Or had things changed between them? Was Hannah actually below par at work? Was Andrea doing her a favour by keeping her on?

Andrea had always needed Hannah. They both knew that, despite the fact it had never been said. Andrea had demons that most people couldn’t see. Hannah recognised them and kept her friend’s head above water when they started to creep in. But she had failed recently.

The Andrea Hannah knew could be promiscuous, but she would not have had a six-month long affair with a married man, let alone the father of one of her best friends. She wouldn’t have yelled at Hannah in the street and badmouthed her family.

Sure, they had had fights before, but lately it felt like their crossed words were chipping away at years of friendship. They were losing touch with each other. Keeping secrets.

Hannah missed their days at Sanfia Records, when Andrea was producing and happy. When she asked Hannah for her opinion on music and the management of artists. When Sofia was carefree and didn’t have Jay anchoring her. When Rosalie would pop into the studio to show them her latest pair of shoes and flirt with the artists.

Times changed. What mattered now was that she had four mouths to feed at home. That Rod was excited about his new coaching job in Queens and she wanted him to be happy and to feel satisfied. He too had had dreams, bigger dreams than hers, and they had been shattered, not by children but a broken back. He could never change that, no matter how old and independent the kids got. Those boys and Rod were her life and they were what mattered, not an argument with Andrea over her sex life.

Hannah stood from the bench with renewed purpose and headed back to the office.

* * *

Hannah and Andrea had passed the remainder of the week in the office with stoic silence, neither one of them speaking to the other, communicating through blunt email exchanges. Hannah was now standing in packed Penn Station staring at indeterminate train delays, thanks to a jumper.

‘People are so selfish,’ one commuter said.

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