Page 33 of Friends with Benefits

‘What happened?’ Madge asks.

Shaking my head, I share the story. ‘Mr Hetherington lived on the same street as us. He had a dog. What was it called again?’

‘Chippy,’ Emily manages through her hysterics.

‘Chippy, right. Mr Hetherington was an old man. He was a widower and used to volunteer at a library, reading to kids, for something to do. I don’t know if he never house-trained Chippy or something but when he went to the library each day, he would chain Chippy up in his yard.’

‘But, see, Chippy had a crush on Mrs Dawson’s dog,’ Emily says. ‘He would pull on his chain, barking and crying, trying to get to her when she was outside.’

‘Emily thought Chippy was in love with Mrs Dawson’s dog,’ I explain.

‘He was in love.’

I roll my eyes. ‘This one Saturday, Mr Hetherington was at the library and Chippy was going crazy outside on the chain. Mrs Dawson had gone out and left her dog in the garden.’

‘In hindsight, maybe Mrs Dawson’s dog was in heat,’ Emily says.

‘So, Emily decided she wanted Chippy to find his love and let Chippy off his leash.’

‘He flew over the fence and went straight to Mrs Dawson’s garden,’ Emily continues the story. ‘When Mr Hetherington came home, Chippy still hadn’t returned. So he started walking from house to house, asking if anyone had seen him. I was playing at Jake’s when he turned up. And I’ve never been a good liar…’

That’s a matter of opinion.

‘Long story short,’ I say. ‘I took the fall and got into a hell of a lot of shit because Jane Austen there needed to see the dogs fall in love.’

‘Wait, what happened to Chippy?’ Izzy asks.

‘Oh, he returned that night,’ Emily says.

‘And Mrs Dawson’s dog?’

I look at Emily and we both start to laugh, again. ‘We can’t say for certain because we were grounded. But shortly after that day, Mrs Dawson had herself eight puppies.’

‘And the moral of the story is…’ Emily looks at me and we finish simultaneously.

‘Fucking dogs in heat will lead to unwanted babies.’

I fall onto my back, laughing so hard, all I can hear is the sound of my own voice in my ears; all I can feel is the aching of my ribs.

‘All right, I confess, there were a few times I shit the bed and Jake had to save my bacon. In fact, Jake did once buy me a toilet roll as a gift. Do you remember? It was the day of my finals in my second year of college. Instead of wishing me good luck, like most people would do, Jake handed me a gift bag. Inside, there was a toilet roll and a note that simply said, “Don’t shit the bed, Ems”.’

I prop myself back up on my elbow and take a large gulp of beer.

‘How could I forget? That was the last time I spoke to you before we came here.’

Emily’s joviality fades in an instant. As she looks at me, the orange glow of the fire catches the tears that fill her eyes.

What did she think? That one night here would erase everything?

She stands, dumps her empty bottle in the trash bag and screws in a smile that I know is forced.

‘Well, I’m exhausted. Thank you for having me, Drew, Becky. I’ve had a great time.’ Her voice falters as she says, ‘It was nice to meet you, too, Izzy, Jess.’

She doesn’t hug or kiss anyone; she leaves quickly, carrying her sandals and heading down to the beach.

The only sound is the gentle rolling of waves in the distance and the cracking of wood from the fire.

Jess gets up from her rug and comes to stand in front of me. She holds out a hand and pulls me to my feet. As she does, she tells me, ‘Now is as good a time as any to talk it out, Jake.’

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