Page 66 of Plight
“My logic stems from experience. Every one of my sexual relationships has progressed from a solid friendship that has been ruined because of sex. Every. Single. One.”
“They probably weren’t doing it right.”
I whacked him in the gut. “They were. And it’s every relationship bar one, actually, and that’s only because I ended the sex before it got out of control.”
“So you’re saying that every sexual relationship you’ve had has ended badly?”
“Yes.” I focussed on his ceiling because Elliot’s judgmental face wasn’t there.
“And you think it’s because you introduced sex into the mix?”
“I don’t think, I know.”
“Danielle, have you ever considered that the dissolution of the friendship could be due to the fact that neither of you fought to keep it post sex?”
I sighed. “It’s not that simple.”
“But it can be.” He rolled me onto my side so that I was facing him again. “If the friendship is strong enough, it can survive anything. It will survive anything. That’s us, Danielle; we can and will survive anything.”
“But we haven’t, have we? You’re forgetting that seventeen years is a long time not to talk to one another.”
“Trust me, I’m not forgetting.”
“So what happened, Lots? Why’d we drift apart so easily?”
He moved a lock of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know. One minute you were there, and the next you weren’t.”
I blinked. “Me? One minute you were there, and the next you were taking Maureen Kropf to the year-nine social dance at your new school.”
He blinked, too. Twice. I counted.
“Well, yeah. She was in my class and the only girl who would talk to me. I needed to take someone.”
“She wasn’t the only girl who talked to you,” I mumbled.
“Are you shitting me, Danielle?”
“What?”
“Are you saying that you stopped talking to me solely because I took some random girl to my year-nine social dance?”
“She wasn’t just some random girl, Elliot. She was on my netball team and liked to share detailed information about her ‘dates’. And …” I wiped the tear from my eye before he noticed it. “And she wasn’t me.”
“No, I’m fully aware she wasn’t you,” he said, his tone annoyed.
An awkward silence settled between us. It was strange. Unfamiliar. I didn’t like it.
“Well, I’m glad we established that,” I said, kicking off the blankets to quickly get out of bed. As I went to stand up and escape to the bathroom, a sharp, painful reminder of my sore foot shot up my leg. “Faaaaaaaark.”
“What’s wrong? You okay?” Elliot rushed to my side of the bed and knelt down on the ground before me. “Show me.”
He tried to take my foot in his hand, but I stopped him. “Don’t. It’s fine. It’s just sore.”
He tried to reach for my foot again.
“I said don’t.”
“Danielle, don’t do this.”
