by Eva Woods
“No. It isn’t that.” Oh, God, how to explain. “Could I sit down a sec, Jane? I just want to chat. Is that okay?”
Jane paused, and Annie shamefully relived the last time she’d been at this house, the day she’d left, screaming and shouting on the front path about how Jane was a home-wrecker and Mike a dirty cheat. “Okay. I guess it’s about time.” She nodded to the sofa. “Why don’t you...?”
It was the same sofa. Annie had paid for this, a lovely cracked red leather, and yet the only sofa she had now was that awful pleather one she’d got from a British Heart Foundation shop. She tried not to mind as she sat down. Mike had felt so bad he’d offered her the house and everything in it, but she’d been too proud to take a penny. When she’d first moved out she didn’t even own any spoons; she’d been so determined to walk away from her old life and leave everything behind.
“Tea?”
“Um, no, thank you.” Annie wasn’t sure how long Jane would let her stay once she started talking. “So I suppose you must be wondering why I—”
“It is a bit odd, yes.” Jane bent down to pick up a dirty cup, hair hiding her face. It was still blond, but showing more gray in the roots now. Once it had been Jane on the sofa, Annie the flushed and happy hostess, getting ready for the birth of her child. It was the only time in her life when she hadn’t felt secretly jealous of Jane—who, after all, had grown up with siblings, a nice house and a father—and when she’d felt at peace. If anything, Jane had seemed slightly lost, the name of a different man on her lips every time, tears catching in her throat when she talked. And Annie was always there to listen, provide tissues and tea and hugs. Funny. When Jane stopped moaning about her love life Annie had thought she was finally happy with being single, moving on. But really she was moving on to Mike.
Annie said, “Well. I guess I’ve been doing sort of...a lot of soul-searching recently.”
“Oh,” said Jane.
“So I wanted to come and ask you...try to understand what happened. With you and me and...him.”
“You saw Zar and Miriam. Right?”
“Yeah. They said you—that you felt bad.”
“Annie, I feel so bad I could just die. But you have to know I didn’t plan it. Mike and I...” Annie winced. She used to say that same phrase. Mike and I. My husband, Mike. “You and him were already...just so broken, and so was I, and you were gone, out of reach somehow, and he just needed someone to talk to, and before I knew it we were...and now I’m...well.”
“I can see.” Annie stared at the bump. “How long?”
Jane put both hands on her belly, a gesture Annie recognized so well. “Seven months or so.”
The baby inside would be fully formed already, fists and feet curled in on themselves. Jacob’s little feet had been like that, tiny mice inside his blue and green socks. Everything safe, and cozy, and pastel. Annie swallowed, hard. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” she said (though she wasn’t entirely convinced). “But I’d lost everything. My baby, then my husband, my house...and you, too. I had nothing, Jane.”
Jane wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about Jakey...you know how much I loved him. I was such a mess afterward.”
Annie felt like screaming, Don’t you say his name! But she bit her tongue. Jane had been a brilliant godmother, visiting every week, taking hundreds of adoring pictures.
Jane sniffed. “It must have been horrendous for you. I can’t even imagine it. But what happened with us...it was an accident, and I didn’t mean it. I just fell in love. I know that was selfish. I just loved him so much. I fell so hard and I didn’t know what to do.”
“You’re happy? The two of you?” It would be three soon. She wondered if they were using Jacob’s room. Painting over the stencils she’d done of happy ducks and teddies.
Jane hesitated, then nodded guiltily. “I think so, anyway. I mean, I’ve been sick and knackered...” She stopped herself, as if aware of who she was talking to. “I’m sorry. I guess you don’t want to hear it’s hard being pregnant.”
“I remember.” It was hard having a baby, too. It was easy to forget that sometimes, so deep was her longing to have Jacob back. It felt like a betrayal, to even remember the feeling of walking around this very room with him, screaming in her ear, depositing snot and tears all over her, as 3:00 a.m. turned into 4:00. A deep sorrow came over Annie. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened to Jakey. But, Jane—I think it was the final straw, what you did. The final thing that broke me.”
Jane made a noise, a sort of ugly snort, and Annie saw she was crying, her face screwed up. Her own river of tears was shifting, moving dangerously under the ice. But no, she and Jane weren’t going to cry in each other’s arms, and they weren’t going back to being best friends. “I’m so sorry,” Jane said in her strangled crying-voice. “I miss you so much. I did such a terrible thing.”
Annie’s heart was so heavy it felt like a full bucket of water. “I better go.” She couldn’t stay here any longer, in this lovely house that was once hers. It was all so bloody unfair. Jane had her house, her husband and now a baby. And Annie had...nothing. For a second she imagined another world, one where Jane was pregnant with someone other than Annie’s ex-husband. How happy Annie would have been for her. The loss of it—not just Jacob but Jane, and this baby to come, too—squeezed her heart in its fist. Could she imagine a time when she was part of their life? Went to the child’s birthday parties, sent gifts?
She looked up at the ceiling. “Are you using...will you be using his room?”
“There’s nowhere else.” Jane was biting her lip. “I’m sorry. We’d have moved except for, you know...house prices and—”
“It’s okay.” Of course they’d use it—where else would they put the baby?—but all the same it hurt. It stung like an open cut.
As Annie went to the door it suddenly opened with a scrape, and standing there was Mike. He held the key in midair, almost comically, his face an O of surprise. Annie quickly took in that he, too, had aged—his hairline was farther back, and his stomach larger under his polo shirt and jeans. “Annie?” His hands were full of Waitrose bags-for-life. So he’d finally started remembering to bring them.
“Hi, Mike.”
His head swiveled to Jane. “Babe, has she...?”
Babe. That was like a blade in Annie’s stomach. She watched them have a quick silent conversation, the kind she used to have with him.
Did she cause a scene again?
No, it’s fine.
Annie couldn’t face another emotional showdown. She forced her mouth into a smile, or at least a pointing-up direction. “I need to go. Thanks for chatting to me, Jane. Con—” The word thickened in her mouth. “Congratulations. Bye.”
She left them standing in the doorway, soon to be a little family of three, and as she walked down the path she heard Mike say, “There’s some madwoman singing along to the Grease megamix in that car over there.”
DAY 29
Have a Facebook cull
“Good for you,” Polly said as Annie presented her phone, a little sulkily, for inspection. “Both of them gone?”
“Both of them.” But it didn’t feel good. She’d been friends with Jane since long before the internet, before periods and boys, before either of them could even tie their shoelaces. And now she’d erased her for good. Annie couldn’t help feeling it might have gone differently, if she’d given it another year or two. Maybe if Polly hadn’t pushed her into going before she was ready...but no. Those bridges were on fire, people screaming and jumping off them into the raging water. There was no point in what-ifs.
Polly squeezed her arm as they sat in the hospital café. “Come on, I’ll buy you a cake. Do you think Dr. Q would like something for when he’s done his run? I saw him earlier, going around and around and around the hospital. He�
�s, like, really fit.”
Annie frowned. “Polly.”
“It’s just cake.”
“Sure it is. Anyway, any more cake and I’ll develop type 2 diabetes and then I’ll be in here with you and you won’t be able to play that cancer card anymore.”
“Fine, fine. Let’s get out of here. I spy Dr. McGrumpy and I need to avoid him. He said I needed to get a white stick, my eyesight is so bad! Can you imagine? Me with a white stick. I’m not blind.”
Annie saw Dr. Max at the counter, queuing for what looked like a triple espresso, and she waved. She found herself wondering idly if he was on Facebook.
DAY 30
Listen
Annie took a deep breath. She’d rewritten the email five times now and it was getting ridiculous. It was only seven words. Why not just click Send? But what if the recipient laughed, or ignored it, or forwarded it to everyone else? Her hand hovered on the mouse, paralyzed. What would Polly say? Something meaningless about it having to be dark to see the stars, no doubt. A lot of these inspirational sayings were about astronomy for some reason.
She sighed and clicked. Would you like to have lunch today? Then she stared down at her desk, the bottom dropping out of her stomach. This would be awkward. What would they even talk about? Assuming she said yes. She probably wouldn’t. But when she risked looking up, Fee was nodding enthusiastically back at her.
* * *
“What a nice idea, Annie. I always just eat at my desk and work through.”
“I know. But we’re not paid for that, are we.”
“You’re right. And I didn’t know this place was here.” They had Styrofoam cups of coffee and bacon rolls, and were sitting on the metal chairs outside the park coffee kiosk. Fee closed her eyes against the weak spring sunshine. “This makes me feel better. Thanks, Annie.”
“Is everything...everything okay?” she asked timidly. She didn’t want to pry, but Fee hadn’t been herself recently. She hadn’t tried to get them all to do karaoke for at least a month.
“Oh, things at home are a bit tough. My partner, Julie, she’s going through IVF and it’s costing a fortune. And they keep muttering about redundancies at work. It makes me nervous, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I know it can be tough when you’re trying.” A flashback knifed her—Mike begging, Please, Annie, we have to stop trying. It’s killing you—and she tried to hide her wince with a sip of coffee.
“I just feel so helpless. Like it should be me doing it, but she’s younger and it made more sense...” Fee trailed off. “You must think I’m awful bringing this up, Annie. After all you’ve been through.”
“Oh! Because of...my son?” Everyone knew, of course, though no one ever mentioned it. She’d been off work for months, feeling like she might die herself from the sheer pain of it. “Honestly, I don’t mind. For ages after no one would talk to me about their kids at all, or bring them to see me. I felt like a leper.” As if dead children were catching or something. “So please. I’m happy to listen.”
For the next half an hour she listened to Fee talk about the stress she was under, how Julie was sleeping in the spare room, how they’d maxed out their bank accounts, how worried she was about losing her job, and it made a change, Annie reflected, to for once not be the one who was falling apart.
DAY 31
Dance like no one is watching
“But should you be doing this, Poll? I mean, are you well enough?”
“What are you talking about, I’m totally fine!” Polly was already dancing along to the music as people got changed, pulling off jumpers to reveal tight leggings and vests. Annie hugged herself—she was wearing so many layers it was impossible to tell whether she was a woman, a man or the Honey Monster.
“This is going to be a nightmare,” George said, chugging down Diet Coke. He had dark shadows under his eyes and an underlying reek of vodka was emanating from his pores. “I bloody hate this kind of hippie stuff. When I’m not off my tits at least.”
For once Annie agreed with him. Hugging strangers and rubbing up against them was probably fine when you were on drugs, but not when it was 6:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning and you were stone-cold sober. Fear gripped her. She was doing her best to avoid eye contact, pretend it wasn’t going to happen, but at some point in the next few minutes the contact dance class was going to start, and she would have to touch people, let them put their hands on her waist—if they could find it—and her legs and arms and maybe even her face and...oh, God. She grabbed his arm. “I can’t do this. I just—I really can’t. I can’t dance, I hate people touching me and I just really, really can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry to me, I’m in the same boat.” He raked his fingers over his exhausted face. “I hate dancing sober. I hate wearing tight clothes. I hate smiling.”
The other attendees were all glowing with health, smiling earnestly at each other, greeting the teacher with hugs. Annie was backed into the corner as far as she could go. A pulse of horror was beating in her stomach. “Oh, God. I can’t.”
“Why didn’t I actually join a gym instead of pretending?” George moaned, sucking in his abs. “I thought the bloody gays were fit and buff. This lot are just so...healthy.”
Polly came twirling over. Although she was thin, she was not healthy. You could see it in her fragile hair under her headscarf, her jutting bones and tired skin. She was already panting and they hadn’t even started. Annie and George exchanged a quick look. “This is going to be great. You guys will join in, won’t you?”
“Of course!” trilled Annie.
“Can’t wait!” George smiled, giving a thumbs-up. When Polly turned around he grimaced at Annie. “Come on. We’ll get through this somehow, and earn ourselves like a million good friend and brother points. In?”
“In,” Annie said reluctantly, thinking that it was nice to have an ally, even if it was from an unexpected source.
* * *
“And now grasp your partner by the arms...look deep into their eyes!” Annie was currently partnered with a middle-aged man, all noxious breath and flowing gray hair.
“It helps if you really open up to it, Anna.”
“It’s Annie.” And who made him king of the contact class?
“And pushhhh...” sang the teacher, a willowy redhead called Talia, who looked as if her spandex had been spray-painted onto her slender limbs.
Bad-breath Man shoved hard at Annie. “You’re meant to push back,” he said helpfully.
“I am pushing,” Annie gasped.
“Wow. You really need to work on your quads, Anna. I could suggest a great gym...”
“And chaaange partners!”
“Bye!” Annie scarpered before the inevitable high five. She did not high-five. It was a matter of principle. George grabbed her, wide-eyed. “Help. I just had to put my head between a woman’s legs. I haven’t done that since I was born.”
They looked over to Polly, who was spinning, her turquoise scarf fluttering like a banner, cannoning into people. She was breathing hard, and Annie suspected she couldn’t see very well. “Is she okay?” she said to George.
“Dunno. She’s in total denial about this sight thing. Come with me.” They danced over. “Hey, Poll, how about resting for a few songs?”
“I don’t need to...rest,” she panted.
“No, but you’re showing the rest of us up. Give me and Annie time to connect with people, eh?”
“Fine,” she said, sitting down quite quickly on a nearby chair. She put her hand on her back, face twisted in pain. “Just for you.”
“Stick with me,” George muttered to Annie. “We’ll just pretend we’re doing it.”
And so, for the next fifty minutes, they spun and grunted and rolled on the floor and flung their arms out embracing the en
ergy of the universe. Annie got hotter and hotter in her multiple layers, until she could feel sweat rolling down her back under her bra. George was unnervingly close, the stubble of his chin sometimes scraping her, the sound of his breath wheezing in her ear. How long was it since she’d been this close to another person? Not since Mike, surely. She kept her eyes firmly on the floor, the dented yoga mats with their faint smell of sweat, and tried to count the seconds, like when enduring a painful and undignified medical procedure. Which was something she had plenty of experience at. Eventually, it was over. She removed her head from under George’s armpit, which smelled like someone had spilled a whole Glade PlugIn in it. “I think...it’s finished,” she said, hardly able to believe it.
“Is it?” George sounded broken.
“Hiii!” Polly came over. She looked tired but happy, dark circles on her pale face. “That was amazing. I just wish I’d done it years ago. I felt so...connected.”
To Annie it had felt like being on a crowded tube, pressed up in someone’s crotch, for a full hour. Only with everyone staring at you and aggressively smiling a lot. “It was...an experience,” she tried.
George was more honest. “Jesus Christ, Poll. You better be actually dying, because I am never, never doing that again. I’m going to need years of therapy to get over this.”
Polly waved her hand. Taking offense was one of the many things she’d decided she didn’t have time for, along with worrying about her calorie intake, queuing and trying to look cool. She slung a cardigan over her thin shoulders; Annie noticed how her hands shook. But her voice was bright. “I might go with some of these guys for a hemp smoothie, fancy it?”
George and Annie clashed eyes. “I’ve got to work,” she said quickly.
“On the weekend?”
“Um, it’s Wednesday, Poll.”
“Is it? Oh, well, it’s all the same to me these days. What about you, bro?”
“I have a big audition...possibly.”