Good Enough

by PH Morris

  “What’s the matter?” Shelle was up and standing beside of me. My hands were shaking when she took the statement off me; there were four pages full of spending at various shops and several online purchases including a number to DBT. “I assume this is not your usual spending, Mel?” she questioned.

  Kat was next to her feet and snatched the statement from Shelle and added, “No, it bloody well isn’t; she’s not a big spender and certainly nothing like this.”

  “You have to call the credit card company immediately, Mel,” affirmed David, handing me the phone. I looked at it as if it were alien technology; I felt numb.

  “Give it here,” Kat announced, taking it from David, “I can pretend to be her.”

  “Isn’t that what has got us into this mess?” Shelle announced, and Kate looked offended. “I don’t mean you, Kat. I’m just saying that we can’t pretend to be Mel. She needs to report the fraud herself; they probably record the calls.”

  I looked between Kate and Shelle and back at the phone, “It’s okay, I’ll do it,” I said in a whisper. “Can someone just dial the number, please?”

  Kat took over pressing the key pad to get through the automated system, finally passing the phone to me when a human voice came on the line.

  I explained the situation to the very calm and helpful guy on the phone. He seemed to take it all in his stride, but I guess these things happened all the time in his department.

  Unfortunately, these things didn’t happen to me very often and, coupled with the hate mail, I was feeling decidedly freaked out.

  After reporting the fraud on my credit card, I also rang my bank and cancelled my normal card, although from online banking it looked okay. I also rang the non-urgent police number and reported the incident, was given a crime number and told that someone would be in touch.

  When I finally put down the phone, I had a headache. David made me a cup of tea and gave me a couple of paracetamol.

  “Who could possibly be behind this?” Shelle mused. “I mean, who on earth would feel this way towards you, Mel? You are one of the loveliest people I know.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Shelle, but I guess it could be anyone – a disgruntled ex-employee? Being in HR, I suppose it’s easy to make enemies.” Not that I really thought I had hurt anyone enough to make them hate me, but you never knew. Even the best-handled redundancy or dismissal can make an unreasonable person act more unreasonably.

  “What about Anne Marie?” Kat mused.

  “Ppfff, why on earth would she have anything against me? You should have seen her; she was so well dressed, polished and manicured, and let’s not forget she did the uglies with Mark, so she got my life and my man. She’s had everything I didn’t have and some of the things I did have.” I fought back the tears.

  David sat down on the couch with exaggerated effort and immediately stood up again. “That’s the whole point, Mel; she seems to have it in for you.”

  “I don’t like her any more than you lot, but she’s only just come back into my life, and the thing with Mark happened almost a year ago. I’m not convinced. She has no motive, and most people need a reason to do something,” I explained.

  “Look,” I went on, “this is all too much like a big sack of shit, so can we talk about something else?”

  To be honest, I was sick of talking about it and, in my experience, people did things like this to get to you and mess with your mind rather than there being a real risk that they would do something.

  “David, just throw it all in a bag and hide it somewhere, please. I don’t want to talk any more about it, “I announced.

  David got rid of the letter and went into the kitchen and fished out a number of bottles from his booze collection. Intrigued, I looked up, and he smiled.

  “Imagine I am the best, hottest bartender you have ever seen. What will you ladies have?” He tossed a tea towel over his shoulder with a flourish.

  Kate was bouncing up and down on the couch. “Ooh, like Tom Cruise in Cocktail!” she squealed.

  I looked back at David, and he frowned at me. “David, don’t look so puzzled, you know how she is with her movie references – just go with it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied in the best American accent he could muster.

  He gave us a choice of a few cocktails that he could make with his limited bar, and once the first lot were poured and tasted my phone rang. The room went silent. I guess we were a little jumpy after the hate mail, but I smiled at the screen, and everyone relaxed.

  “Hi, Alistair,” I whispered, but too late – the girls knew who it was and Kat started fake making out with her back to me, running her hands up and down her sides. At the same time, Shelle and David were fake fainting on the couch.

  I stuck up two fingers and walked down the hall, away from the laugher.

  “Hi, Mel, are you okay?” Alistair seemed worried. “I texted you a couple of times, and you didn’t reply.” I looked at my phone to see a little number 3 over the green text square. “I didn’t hear back, so I didn’t know if you had changed your mind, and I wanted to double-check as I’ve booked the flights already, which is fine, but I didn’t know if you’d got cold feet.”

  I had wandered into my room and sat down on the bed, thinking how much to tell him.

  “Oh sorry, Alistair, no, I mean yes, everything is fine. My phone died, and I didn’t charge it when I got in, so I only just got your messages. Yeah, so sorry about that.”

  “Mel, are you sure you’re okay? You sound distracted. We can leave it if you like,” he trailed off.

  “Oh my god, Alistair, no, it’s totally fine. I have a friend who is going through a rough patch,” I lied, “so I got caught up with that. That’s all it is, honestly. I am looking forward to seeing you.”

  “That’s a relief, thought I had scared you off.”

  “No, not at all. Listen, I’ve got some friends round, and I really want to get back to them. I’m not brushing you off, so can I call you later, say 9pm? They’re staying for tea and I’m having an early night; I have a date Sunday,” I said, lightening the mood.

  “Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky guy?” He sounded more relaxed now.

  “It’s this hot guy I met recently” I announced

  He laughed out loud. “Hot? Well, I’m sure it will go well, then.” He paused. “Call me later?”

  “Yep, I will; I promise.” I always chose humour over dealing with shit. It allowed me to choke down whatever was bothering me; I could deal with that stuff another time.

  “Speak to you later. Bye, Mel.”

  “Bye, Alistair.” There was a long pause, and I pressed end.

  Out in the living room, the three loons were sitting eagerly waiting for some titbit of information.

  “Right, you, sit,” Shelle ordered. “We got caught up with the other....matter, we never got to the fun stuff, so spill.”

  I spent the next hour going over the events of the last couple of days, and as per usual the self-doubt and self-deprecation crept in, until David threatened to shout at me. I explained that I had promised to call him back at nine-ish, and Shelle and Kat said they would be out of my hair by then.

  I said I would make the next round of cocktails, and Kate came to the kitchen with me while I did the best mixology I could muster.

  Kate didn’t say anything; she never needed to; she just grabbed me and gave me a big hug. She knew my insecurities like no one else, and all through my troubled years, when I gave my mum and dad a lot of crap, and even when I told her to piss off, she never left me, never judged me and never found me wanting.

  She was the sister I never had, and Anne Marie was the sister I never wanted.

  I knew I would never shake the doubt about them choosing to keep her when they got rid of me, but maybe my life was better because of it. I would never have met Kat, for a start, and she wa
s the best thing, the one that just, well… just got me.

  My mum and dad really had a dog’s life with me in the early years, and throughout my early teens I was horrid. I was mainly scared, of everything, but it didn’t come across as scared; it came out as controlling and angry and nonsense. One day I finally met a psychologist who explained all this to me and, whilst I still struggled, day to day with what was going on, I finally understood why. My mum and dad had tried to love me better, to heal me. Love me so much that I wouldn’t even remember how crappy my life was as a child. But the trauma was ingrained in me, it took a long time to repair, and my mum and dad were amazing. I think if they hadn’t been teachers, I would have been kicked out of school half a dozen times.

  I wanted friends, lots of friends, but I couldn’t handle friendship easily. Everyone was on a piece of elastic; that way, I could chuck them away and still keep them attached. I could reject them on my own terms, but people got fed up with that. It was a way to protect myself, but for them it was too unpredictable. And being the daughter of teachers didn’t help.

  When Kate joined our school in year ten, we were like magnets. Kate’s parents had split up, and she was at sea with it all; we were both messed up.

  We met in gymnastic class. Kate came in and stood at the back. She didn’t have the standard PE kit on, so she stood out. I didn’t have the standard PE kit on either, not because I was new, but because I was disorganised and forgot what to bring so ended up dragging out whatever I had in the bottom of my bag. The PE teacher had gone beyond asking me about it or penalising me about not wearing the right kit; they were just glad I rocked up and did as I was told.

  I stood at the back, and this new student slipped in, sidled up to me and gave a watery smile.

  Because I was all over the place, I just introduced myself, I couldn’t help it; if it was in my head, it came out of my mouth.

  She brightened up immediately, and after that we were inseparable. She was structured and relaxed; I was disorganised and hyper. We balanced each other out. After that, things got a lot better for me. We were inseparable; I was happy, and she was tough, hard as nails. I felt secure and protected and, even when I pushed her away with my elastic friendship, she always bounced back and accepted my insecurities as I accepted hers.

  That was over ten years ago, and it had always been this way, easy, like breathing; this was what friendship was. Here we were in the kitchen of a lovely apartment, having our silent hugs that just meant ‘you’re okay, we’re okay’ and breathe. She pulled back and kissed my forehead.

  “Right,” she announced, eyes shining, “mojito or espresso martini?”

  We slipped into easy conversations about nothing important, laughing and joking, but my mind did wander back a few times to the hate mail. But I quickly dismissed the thoughts with a shake of the head.

  Just before nine, true to their word, Kate and Shelle gave me hugs and kisses and headed out the door. I grabbed my phone and the remainder of my espresso martini and headed to my bedroom.

  I was a little tuned in when I dialled Alistair’s number, and he answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Mel, how’s things?”

  “Better, thanks. I’m sorry I’m a little late calling you; my friends have only just left.”

  “It’s fine,” he replied. “Did your friend get things sorted out?”

  “Friend? Oh yeah, she did, thanks.” Shit, I was almost caught out lying. “Sorry, I have had a few drinks,” hoping he thought my hesitancy was due to the alcohol.

  “It’s fine, Mel, you don’t have to explain. I just wanted to see if you were okay.” God, this guy was irritating – it was like he had a sixth sense or something.

  “Listen,” he went on, “I just wanted to see if you were around on Sunday to meet up. I’m flying into Manchester on Sunday morning, and I wonder if I could take you out for the afternoon. I’m flying out to Germany on Monday so, if you want to, we could have dinner, that is if you haven’t had enough of me by then.”

  “That sounds great, I would like that. Where you are staying in town?”

  “I’m staying at the Midland. Is that near you at all?”

  “Yeah, it’s about ten minutes from me, but if it’s okay with you can I meet you at a local bar near the apartment, say twelve on Sunday? I’ll text you the details.” I wanted some control in my crazy life, and this would allow it.

  “That sounds like a plan,” he agreed. “Listen, I think I am going to let you go, not because I don’t want to talk, but I think you have had a busy day, with your friend, and I think you could do with an early night.”

  Again, this guy was very perceptive. “You’re right,” I sighed deeply, “I am tired and have had a difficult afternoon, so I am going to take you up on that offer.” Suddenly I felt bone-weary, so we said our quick goodbyes and I decided I would have a shower and wash the negativity away.

  I ended the call, drained the last of my martini and shuffled into the kitchen with the empty glass. David was curled up on the couch watching TV.

  He looked up and smiled, patted the sofa next to him, and I plonked down beside him.

  “How are you holding up, Mel?” he enquired.

  “I’m freaking out about the hate mail thing, but I am trying not to think about it; I don’t want it to ruin my new thing with Alistair. I don’t know where it’s going, but he seems genuine, and he’s keen, so I’m trying super hard not to jinx it. I know you haven’t known me long, David, but I do have a habit of ruining things with overthinking them.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” David barked out a sardonic laugh. “Mel, I know you find it hard to trust people, and I know from Shelle only a fraction of your early years, but you’ve got to start seeing what other people see, and believe them that they like you for you. Whoever this little shit is who is sending through these parcels and letters is probably trying to put the frighteners on you to mess with your head. So, we need to make sure that we protect you, and that means not letting whoever this is get to you.”

  “Thanks, David, you’re like a big brother. I’m going to head off to bed. I’m just going to keep myself busy tomorrow, I think.”

  “Well, that’s good,” he grimaced, “because… I’m on standby at the airport. I’m sorry, Mel; I hate to leave you.”

  “David, that’s really sweet, but I don’t need babysitting, it’s just a stupid letter, and the worst thing I can do is let it intimidate me, so please stop worrying.” I reached out and rubbed my hand up and down his arm in a comforting gesture, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit freaked out.

  I had a fretful night’s sleep; I kept dreaming that I was being chased, and at one point sat bolt upright in bed, covered in a sheen of sweat. I needed to get a grip, or I would look like shit the next day. I got up to go to the bathroom and washed my face before getting back into bed. I took out my phone and looked back over the messages that Alistair had sent me and tried to recount the conversations we’d had. I finally fell asleep and dreamed of blue eyes with yellow bursts.

  Surprisingly, Saturday was a gorgeous morning, and I got up and made my way into the kitchen. It was 10am, and I had slept in, which was unusual for me. David was up and dressed and acting a little weird, but I guess he was worried about me.

  I acted nonchalant and poured myself one of his fresh coffees and popped a bagel in the toaster. I stood with my back against the unit and cupped the coffee in both hands while I took in the expanse of windows and the tops of the trees swaying gently outside the building. I felt good, at peace… well, I would be if David wasn’t acting like a cat on a hot tin roof.

  I ignored him, as I figured the way to calm him was to be calm myself.

  I finished my breakfast, and David was ready for leaving.

  “So, what are you doing today?” he enquired in his best relaxed voice that betrayed his nervousness.

  “Well,
I’m going to tackle this apartment like a cleaning freak, and I might see if Kat wants to come around for tea, then an early night. I’m seeing Alistair tomorrow, so I need my beauty sleep, obvs,” then pointed at my face, which had mascara smudges, and my hair, which I knew without looking was stuck up in all directions.

  David laughed. “Well, baby girl, the apartment is a mess so good luck with that, and as for you, you always look gorgeous to me, inside and out.”

  That phrase ‘inside and out’ threw me back to when I was at junior school; it was just a handful of words, but I was back to my nine-year-old self. I had just come out of school, heartbroken again because someone was bullying me, calling me ugly because of my hair and the glasses I wore and because I was a little overweight. Nobody cared that I was a frightened little girl who had had a crappy start in life; the fact that I was adopted was not the ‘something special’ my mum and dad had told me. They had said I was different because I was picked, selected to be their little girl, and that I was not like other kids because they were just born, and I was chosen. All I knew was that I was different, and that was bad, very, very bad. I had come home from school and kept it together until I got into my mum’s car, and then the tears had started. Another round of ‘what’s the matter’ and my explanation of what some mean girl had said to me that day about being adopted, stupid, ugly or fat, and my mum would hug me and tell me that I was beautiful on the inside and out. Being with my mum was the safest I felt, and I knew she would always have my back. “I wish I wasn’t adopted,” I had cried to her. “I wish you were my tummy mummy.” I explained that I wished she had carried me and not chosen me. She hugged me tighter and said, “I wish I had been your tummy mummy too,” and kissed me on the top of the head. “Come on, let’s get home and jump on the trampoline for a bit and have a picnic in the living room.”

  Often, my memories would pop in and out of my head very quickly, and if David noticed my absence in our conversation he didn’t let on.