Page 130 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

He was pretending to be asleep that night?

Had in fact been listening to my every word?

‘Anyway, it’s their loss because it feels like Sparkle reward for going above and beyond, which Ashleigh consistently does. And it must feel nice to think potentially what you’ve built can stay in the family? She’s incredibly proud of what you’ve achieved while raising three children.’

I feel my mother’s thoughtful gaze as she says, ‘Have you thought about working for the CIA, George? Because you appear to have gotten a better sense of where our daughter’s at, than we have … ever!’

‘Excuse us a moment,’ I mutter and grabbing George’s hand, I yank him up from the table and march outside. Before the screen porch door even shuts, I’m whirling around to face him and I don’t even recognise the shrillness in my voice, ‘You know? That night in your apartment you heard every word I said about Sarah dying? About working at Best Home and the panic attacks and Tiny the giant rabbit?’ At least he has the grace to look guilty as I demand, ‘But why didn’t you say? Why didn’t you laugh when I came to the end of my story?’

‘Because it wasn’t funny, Ashleigh.’

His statement has me feeling like I’m folding in on myself.

‘I mean, yes,’ he continues, his voice stupid-gentle, ‘you told it all excellently. Have you considered stand-up? It’s just I saw right through it.’

‘What do you mean it wasn’t funny? How many other people do you know who can cause such comical carnage in one day at work?’

‘You really want me to be honest?’

I look at him like obviously I do even though I really don’t.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and says, ‘Yes, your clumsiness is sexy, endearing, charming, funny. But you peed on your boss because you fainted. You fainted because you weren’t looking after yourself. You weren’t looking after yourself because you’d been told it was your last shot so you overworked right up to it, despite still grieving the loss of your best friend. You overworked and everyone at that place let you. I didn’t want you to see?—’

I take a step away from him because it all makes hideous sense now. ‘You didn’t want me to see your pity,’ I finish for him.

‘No, my anger. I was mad as hell on your behalf. If you’d have heard the false bravado in your voice … trying to make it appear like none of it mattered … that you hadn’t been dealt a humiliating blow on top of what you’d already been through.’

I stare down at my feet, my mind racing because while it’s on a level of awesomeness I can hardly compute that George has been able to make my well-meaning mother see how well I’m doing, I don’t feel deserving. Especially when there’s another truth here. ‘You have to think about it from my boss’s point of view. One minute I was reliable. The next minute’—I stop, lick my lips, and force out the words. ‘I didn’t ask anyone to help me either and sometimes you have to ask.’

Sometimes you have to shout it really loud even though it’s the hardest thing to do. Even if you feel invisible. Because sometimes people are busy going about their business, thinking everything is fine and then, the next minute it’s too late and your best friend gets left on the field.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

HOW I MET YOUR SISTER

Ashleigh

A wedding guest hands me the mic and I stare at them as if they’ve given me a mouldy dead mouse instead.

I have not yet had nearly enough to drink to give a speech to the newlyweds, though it’s not through lack of trying. When does the numbing effect kick-in, that’s what I want to know?

For the last hour I’ve been sitting in this marquee where lights shine onto colourful goblets and vibrant centrepiece flowers. I’m surrounded by adults chatting and kids chasing each other around. It’s the kind of colour and noise that slams into your carefully constructed grey and forces you to reckon with it. To join in with it.

I really want to join in with it – to keep present and not let the emotion of the day overwhelm me but it’s impossible when I can feel Sarah’s presence everywhere. She was there in the beautiful ceremony in the little church. She’s here in the marquee. I bet if I stole away to the tree house beyond this tent, to the place we confided our secrets and hopes and dreams in, I’d feel her there too.

It’s not the same.

Not the same as her physically being here and I hate it, hate it, hate it.

Hate that she can’t celebrate with her family.

Hate that she didn’t get to come home.

I think I hear my mother say, ‘You don’t have to speak, Ashleigh.’

But I know I do.

For Sarah.

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