Page 1 of Straight to Me

Chapter One

“Madison Rose Reed, you mardarse! It’s officially the weekend. Down your drink and let’s go! Kyle’s waiting.”

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” I mumble, downing my wine and pulling up the strap of my dress. My strappy, clearly too short and tight for me, little black dress. God, I hate it. Hate that Bextold me, no, more like forced me into buying it. Although black is my favourite colour, I cringe catching my reflection in the mirror.

My long brown hair sits loose and poorly cared for down my back, my face is washed out, and there’s too much of my skin on show… who the hell do I think I am?

My Friday nights used to consist of leaving work, grabbing a bottle of wine from the local shop and heading to our house on the Northeast edge of town.

Once through the door, my shoes and bra would be whipped off before my oversized tracksuit provided me with a next level comfort. Makeup free from my face and a large glass of wine in my hand, my arse would then firmly be planted on the sofa.

Six o’clock would come around which meant a video call with my nephew before he went to bed. He couldn’t talk back to me properly yet, being only one, but catching up with my sister at the end of another week and seeing my favourite little man was always bliss.

Chris would usually walk through the door late, but he wouldn’t have my attention. TV or a good book supplied most of my entertainment and more often than not, I was already asleep. Boring yes, but it was my life.

Was, being the crucial word.

This is my life now. Everything I worked hard for, every decision I ever made has led me to this; pointless drinking, partying and turning a blind eye to the giant reset button that's flashing in front of my face.

She means well, and I'm so grateful for her support, but if I'm being totally honest with myself, I'm relieved that soon I won't have to keep pretending to my best friend that everything's okay.

I knew going out every other weekend wouldn't miraculously change my life. I need stability; a place I call my own, to find out who the hell I even am anymore.

Tonight though, it’s my best friend of nineteen years night of choice. We've alternated weekends since I've been stopping at hers and Kyle’s, each taking turns deciding what to do. It’s a nice gesture on her behalf, but I know it’s really to keep my mind busy.

Her weekends are always the same. Kyle drops us in town. We hit a few local bars, then end up dancing until our feet hurt in some shitty nightclub that we’re now both clearly too old to go in. Of course, we won’t care because we drink just enough to not remember it the next day, but not enough to forget the music that takes us back to our youth. We’ll giggle and reminisce about the ‘good old days’ when we had no problems, plenty of money and were happy to socialise constantly.

Bex hasn’t changed much in all honesty. She’s still as brave and mischievous as I always remember. She’s always had my back, and I hers, but she was always fiercer and more protective of me.

I’m the worrier. The second guesser. She always does what she feels is right in the moment, managing to always see the good in every situation. That’s why she is my rock. She and my younger sister. They both always know exactly what to do or say to cheer their friends up.

I love them both for it.

With a mental note to message Jess, I pull the stupid dress down, grab my handbag off the dresser and head downstairs. I laugh to myself, scoffing under my breath that I had a life plan.

What a bloody joke.

Life lesson: a plan is only great and effective if the person you choose to put in it is on the same page as you. Always check this first and be truly sure of their intentions, otherwise, you could end up like me; thirty-one, divorced, with no home to call your own and nothing but clothes and non-essential crap to your name.

Chapter Two

We pull up outside a row of bars on Winchester Street just before nine. Begrudgingly, but carefully, I squeeze my arse out of the back seat, desperately trying to protect my modesty.

Kyle kisses Bex goodbye before laughing and jeering at me, “Cheer up Madison, it might never happen.”

Instantly annoyed, I flash him the V with my fingers, scowling at him like a moody teenager. Despite his taunts, it’s hard not to watch Kyle with adoration as he says goodbye to Bex. He’s good for her. Knowing my best friend has him; someone who loves her unconditionally when I'm not around, makes me happy. It’s how I thought Chris loved me once upon a time.

How wrong I'd got it.

Kyle winks in our direction, handing Bex cash for the taxi we’ll need to get ourselves home later. He's off out tonight which we both know means he’ll be uncontactable for the next 24 hours at least. That's him and his mates all over; the whole, ‘work hard, play hard’ motto.

Chris was never like Kyle as an adult. He worked hard and eventually he only lived to work, meaning no time for fun, or me. Growing up with him he wasn’t like that. He would join us on ourweekend adventures, and he was actually good fun to be around. He would always happily go along with our friends’ plans, and for a time, he enjoyed the freedom of having no worries.

He then started to grow up in front of us. Telling us to slow down. He began questioning our lives. He would ask us constantly when were we going to grow up and settle down. Mocking him, the others would drink or smoke twice as much in front of him, just to prove their unwillingness to change. To be honest, I grew bored of the partying every night and gradually only went out at weekends, until eventually not at all.

Everything changed after that. I stopped having fun and focused on studying, and then once that was done, I focused on work—the same as Chris.

My life had been organised; get my degree, marry Chris, work as a teacher, have a baby, start a family and live happily ever after. I worked hard for my life plan. I worked hard in general. Until eventually that’s all that my life was. Wake up, go to work, go home, eat, sleep, wake up and repeat.

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