Page 70 of You Can't Hurt Me

“Ah, the great masterpiece.” She rolls her eyes and I realize how much I have missed her.

“Anyway, tell me about Jess,” I say, pleased by the distraction.

“Skiing accident. It was only a green slope but she managed to smash her knee in two places, and she’s done her back in. They’re operating on Monday. Reckons she’ll be laid out for at least two months. On top of dealing with my parents for two weeks, I now have to look after the magazine.” She exhales, leans her head back on the sofa, rakes a hand through her hair and groans. “No more lunches with you. There goes my social life.”

I throw her a look of disbelief.

“What?” She frowns, barely able to conceal a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. I hear myself laugh for the first time in days, at her lame attempts to disguise her delight at this unexpected promotion, her ineluctable ambition that’s impossible to conceal.

“Jess out of the way. Amira, editor of her own magazine? It’s a dream come true for you. Come on. You’re thrilled. You must be. It’s all you ever wanted.”

“It’s not like that though. She’ll be all over me, micromanaging remotely, pulling features at the last minute.” She shakes her head lightly, grimacing, and I frown in disbelief.

“Spare me the humblebrags. It’s brilliant news. You know it is. Possibly three months as editor and you can get a job anywhere.”

“Well, maybe you’re right.” She softens, gives me a reluctant smile. I ask her about Paris and staying with her parents. She tells me about her father who is growing more forgetful, confusing her twice with her younger sister, her frustrated mother, and how guilty she feels living so far away.

“Sometimes I envy you, Anna. That you no longer have to worry about your parents. I mean, I’m sorry. That’s an insensitive thing to say,” she says quickly, scanning my expression.

I shake my head, accustomed to small comments like this from Amira over the years. “No, I think I know what you mean,” I say. “My biggest childhood fear, of being orphaned, is behind me. I’m an adult and I’m free.” I’m giving her the reassurance I know she craves. I can’t tell her that it’s more complex, that how you lose a parent is the real measure of the freedom you may feel, depending on how guilty or responsible you may have been. Nor can I explain all the complications with it, like how often it feels like the world divides into orphans, those who no longer have parents and those who do. But that’s one piece of wisdom she’ll have to discover for herself.

She stops herself and I know Tony is about to come up in the conversation. I’m struck with guilt, not sure what to share. How do I begin to tell Amira any of this, the subterfuge, the threats, Tony and Eva’s history?

She looks down, chews her bottom lip. “Anna, I’m not even sure how to tell you.” Tears fill her eyes and her shoulders slump. “We broke up, Tony and I.”

Alarmed, I sit down next to her. She breathes sharply as if to brace herself for what she’s about to share.

“He called me in Paris a few days ago unannounced, ranting and raging. About you mainly. About Nate and Eva. How we were all against him and that Nate was an evil bastard manipulating you. None of it made much sense. We fought again when I returned home, and I tried to calm him down but...he got so angry.”

She looks at me for a moment as if in two minds, almost as if she’s ashamed in some way.

She pushes her ringlets off her face to show me a livid purple and yellow bruise blooming at her temple.

I say nothing for a moment, a wave of emotion breaks inside me, fury that my brother would do this to my best friend, but something else too. Guilt. Why did I not act sooner, intervene in some way? I was too self-absorbed by my own dramas.

“Amira,” I gasp. “That’s awful. I’m so, so sorry. There’s so much I should have told you. He came round here too, a few days ago. We had a big argument. I was going to call you. I can’t believe I let this happen.”

She considers me for a moment. “You couldn’t have stopped this, Anna. I should have listened to you more. He always seemed so plausible when he talked about you relying on him—”

“What the hell happened? What did he do?”

“It was just an accident. We were arguing and I tried to leave. He pushed me, I must have tripped and hit one of the coat hooks.”

I watch her making excuses to protect his actions, a dark unfathomable rage rising up in me. “You should report this, Amira. I’ll support you if you do, whatever you need.”

We hug, briefly. Her fingers reflexively touch her temple. “I’ll think about it but the main thing is it’s over. He’s out of our lives now and that’s all that matters,” she says, firmly. If only I could believe her.

I cook supper for her. Glancing around the room, she notices the blank space above my desk.

“What happened?” she says. “Where’s it all gone?”

“Big cleanup. All done, over,” I say, brightly, rubbing my hands. “I sent the edited manuscript to Priya and we’re meeting tomorrow.”

“That’s amazing, Anna, you got there. I hope you give us first go on serializing it. And Priya likes it?”

“So far, yes.”

I sit down opposite her at the small kitchen counter and it strikes me how relaxed I feel when it’s just Amira and me. Without Tony polluting our friendship, everything feels complete.

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