Page 7 of Textbook Romance

‘No. Just thinking back to when he used to play that song on repeat. Bloody droned on. Hated it.’

We both laugh. Kate catches my eye, studying how lost I really look. For the last month, she’s been a real emotional crutch. We’ve slept in the same bed, she ensured I ate. I think at my very lowest, she helped wash my hair in the bath when I sat there sobbing. She’s been amazing at finding words when I’ve needed them but also knowing when I needed silence to counter all that hurt.

‘Do we need to burn something?’ Kate asks me.

‘Like some Oasis CDs?’ I tell her.

‘I don’t think people own CDs anymore, hon. I was just thinking we needed to do something ceremonial to end your marriage. We can burn something, I could buy some old charity shop plates for you to smash? We could go on a CRUISE!’

She seems very excited by the cruise. I shake my head. People have been full of ideas. Friends have mentioned divorce parties, weekends away, meditation retreats with goats. But really all I’ve wanted to do is lie down in a comfortable tracksuit and stare at a ceiling. It is all so new, so fresh. I just don’t know how to fix any of it.

Kate examines my face. ‘Zoe. I can’t tell you how the next few months will pan out, but you’ll be back at work in a few weeks so at least you’ll have some routine, distraction. And whenever it gets tough, you chuck those kids in a car and you come and see me, yeah? Neil and I have said it’s an open house. It will be an Oasis-free zone.’

I nod, quietly, emotion close to edging into tears. ‘Am I allowed to say that I’m scared, Kate?’

She grabs my hand over that blanket. ‘It’s allowed. He’s not just hurt you. He’s taken your self-esteem, your kindness and shat all over it. I will never forgive that shitspoon for that – never. And if I ever see that woman who was supposed to be your friend, I will have her.’ If they were both here now, I have no doubt Kate would glass them with her wine goblet.

The friend’s name is Liz. We used to go on spa days together. I made her a lasagne once when her mum passed away. She’s tried to reach out via text. I didn’t reply. Kate replied on my behalf with a singular middle finger emoji.

‘Like a proper fight?’ I ask Kate.

‘I’ve seen her picture. She wouldn’t stand a chance,’ she tells me confidently.

I go quiet again. Do I want to hurt her? I want to shame her, both of them. I wish they would bring back scarlet letters. They’ve both acted terribly without thought for anyone else. My initial thoughts are sadness, rage, fantasies where I bump into them and just unload all my feelings onto them in a classy, non-violent manner that would make the crowd cheer. That would never happen, though. If I was faced with them now, I’d crumble and cry and roll into a ball on the floor. What has happened is so seismic. I just don’t know how to cope, how to survive, how to move on from any of it.

‘What will I do without you?’

‘Survive. I have every faith. It’s just the start of another chapter. I won’t let this defeat you. You are too fucking marvellous.’

‘So are you.’

‘This didn’t need to be said out loud, we knew this already.’

I nudge her, jokingly. She tops up my glass and stabs a toothpick into a couple of olives.

‘Do you know what this feels like?’ I tell her, a feeling darting through me as I realise where I’ve experienced this loss before.

‘Mildly drunk with a charcuterie board I feel we should have spent more time on.’

‘How so?’ I ask.

‘The ones I see on Instagram have salami formed into roses,’ she tells me, shaping her hands in the air. I look down at the table. We basically just ripped open packets and dangled the meat in our mouths. It wasn’t entirely classy but hell, I don’t know what that is anymore. ‘Is that what you meant?’

‘Yes, I was talking about cured meat,’ I say, rolling my eyes. ‘I meant, Brian leaving, the impending divorce… it feels like the time Ziggy died.’

‘Ziggy, the dog we had when we were growing up? The one who used to hump the sofa cushions?’ Kate asks.

The very one. He was the family dog that existed before I did – a tiny Border Terrier who liked toast crusts and lying at the end of my bed, keeping my feet warm. The sort of pooch that had a very human face, like he was an old man stuck in the body of a dog.

‘I remember when he died, it was the first time I’d experienced grief. This is what this feels like. I feel like I’m grieving, like it’s tying my insides in knots. I just need to…’

‘Unravel…’ Kate holds me closer. ‘The difference being that Ziggy was the king of dogs whereas Brian is the king of shitspoons.’

‘That’s a very inventive term. Shitspoon.’

‘I made it up especially for Brian.’

We both laugh quietly. It was only the two of us growing up and despite the distance and our differing personalities, she’s still my person. We gravitate towards each other in times of need, we defend the other to the hilt, we can still sit here quietly and comfortably with each other and drink wine till we both pass out.

---