Page 65 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘Well, it was never going to be the same. You’re both pretty terrible with change.’
‘We are not.’
‘I’ve seen you both kick off when bands replace their drummers. When McDonald’s stopped doing the Big Breakfast. You wrote me a whole email on that.’
I can’t help laughing that she thinks this is comparable.
‘So you’re just going to sit there until he comes back?’ she asks me.
‘Maybe. Can we come and see you?’
‘I wish.’
I couldn’t even afford the flights right now, but I ache to hold her again and sit next to her, share a slice of pizza even though she’d pick off all the pineapple.
‘B, if we’re going to learn anything from me, it’s that life is too bloody short. I know we hear that all the time like the clichéd trite mantra that it is but it’s the truth.’ As she says it, she turns her gaze to the sea. She looks beautiful, serene, like she’s found some peace. I tear up to think of her healing at least. ‘Just get up. One foot in front of the other for now. Don’t sit in your crap flat and wallow about this.’
‘My flat is homely, not crap.’
‘It’s crap. Change that carpet.’
She cranes her head to see it in all its swirling brown wonder.
‘Whatever that bellend wants to go away and think about, remember you have that gorgeous boy and just embrace that.’
‘Will is not a bellend.’
‘He is today. If you sit and wallow then I will tell Lucy where Will’s brother lives and how Will kissed someone else.’
‘Fine, I won’t wallow.’
She smiles again to see Joe kicking his legs on the floor. She wouldn’t be smiling if these calls came with smell.
‘I bloody love that you’re a mum now, B. I wish I could have been there when Joe was born. It still sucks that I’ve not cuddled him yet.’
‘He’s very cuddly. You’d like him.’
‘I bet. Now, light that candle on that pizza before it gets cold. I need to sing.’
‘Do I have to hear it?’
I grab a lighter from a drawer in the coffee table, wedging it into an olive. Grace starts singing. She’s not known for her tune but the enthusiasm makes Joe giggle. I remember her and Lucy in my car blasting out Alanis Morissette in my back seat, downing cans of apple Tango, Lucy shouting at her inability to harmonise. I look down at the candle. This is when I make a wish, isn’t it? I close my eyes and blow. Will. I wish for Will. And abs. And to win the lottery. I hear clapping on the other end of the phone.
‘Did I get you the best present this year? Did I? Did I?’
‘You win, hands down.’ She does a fist pump from her rooftop veranda then takes a little bow.
‘What else did you get?’
‘Haven’t checked.’
‘Well, let me have a look,’ she says, her head craning. ‘It’s gone midnight here, everyone’s asleep. You can entertain me.’
I hang a slice of pizza from my mouth and dig through the crate of gifts on the living room floor. There’s so much wine. And so many cards. Oh, a card from someone who thought it was my thirtieth. They can come again.
‘Emma’s new bloke got me a pretty new mug,’ I say, holding it up.
‘Very nice. Also useful.’
