Page 99 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
I nod, reluctantly.
‘Or not?’ he replies, reading my face.
I take a deep breath. ‘Will’s not living with me at the moment. He moved out.’
He widens his eyes at me, speechless, and gestures we go outside for a bit. We head for the heated patio area, clutching our drinks. Christmas fairy lights sparkle in the fruity thick mist left by a trio of vapers. We head for some railings overlooking the Thames, both of us probably wondering in this moment why we ever gave up smoking.
‘Beth? What happened? You didn’t say anything…’ he says, slightly hurt.
I shrug my shoulders. ‘It’s just been a shit time. Not stuff you want to share with people.’
‘But I’m Sean. Not people. Has he gone for good?’
‘He’s with his brother. He was stressed and overwhelmed is the official line, but he kissed someone else on a night out. It’s just all a giant shitstorm. It’s been a while now – since my party…’
He pauses, working out how long that’s been, then comes over and gives me a hug.
‘Oh, mate. You really should have said something.’
‘Yeah, sure…Come over, let’s get a takeaway and talk about how my life’s falling apart?’
‘You idiot.’
I don’t cry because I’m not sure what’s left to talk about when it comes to Will. He’s still not here. He’s missing out on the important moments with Joe when he smiles or cuts a tooth or babbles away at me in the bath, but then he’s also missing out on the nappy rash, the early morning feeds and the intense exhaustion. I’m resentful that he’s having a break, that he’s abandoned us when we need him most, but I also ache with how much I miss him.
‘So much has changed, Sean. Good stuff, like Joe. But I don’t even recognise myself these days…’
‘How?’
‘I used to be fun. Now fun feels tiring. I was fun, right?’
‘You’re still fun,’ he says, a little unconvincingly. ‘You have that rapper girl in your life? She’s cool.’
‘The unlikeliest friendship in the world. But in reality, everything’s a reminder of how different I look and feel.’
‘You look great, shut up.’
It’s a sweet compliment but the three times he’s seen me now have been the only times in the last year where I’ve been forced to brush and wash my hair.
‘I feel bad going to Canada now.’
‘Why?’
‘You need me.’
‘I’ll survive.’
‘What if Canadian teachers are weird, don’t drink in their lunch hours or understand my humour?’
‘Then you can FaceTime me from your staff room. Make sure you send me Canadian stuff, won’t you?’
‘Like a moose?’
‘Yep, one of them.’
A biting breeze swoops across the river, picking up plumes of foam and I stand that bit closer to Sean, clinking bottles. It’s too bloody cold to be out here, even with my very classy parka over my maxi dress, but I’m glad for the chance to chat. To chat to a friend.
‘I’m really going to miss you,’ Sean says.
