Female Friendship
Emily and I have been friends since schoolmore precisely, since Year 7, when she moved into our neighbourhood. Back then, I didnt have any close friends in class. Most of the girls clustered around the school beauty, Sophie Harrison, whose father was a professor. The rest, like me, kept to themselves.
I never bowed to Sophie, nor did I pick fightsI stayed neutral. While her circle sized up the new girl, probing her background, I took Emily under my wing. Naturally, I gave her the lowdown on Sophie and her followers.
«Why are you always alone? Protesting something?» Emily asked.
«No, I just prefer my own company. I dont mind it. But if youd rather be friends with them, I wont hold it against you.»
Emily chose me. We werent bulliedjust ignored. I showed her around the school, explained the teachers quirks, and filled her in on the class dynamics. Ironically, Sophie, the professors daughter, didnt follow in her fathers footsteps. Last I heard, she worked in a boutique. She pretended not to recognise me when we crossed paths.
Emily was smarter than meand, in my eyes, prettier. Teenage insecurities convinced me I was all wrong: too plump, too curvy, with unruly curls and legs that seemed too short. A proper ugly duckling. Meanwhile, Emily had smooth blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and the perfect figurejust what every girl envied.
Years later, she confessed shed envied me all along.
We grew inseparable, even planning to attend the same university. But Emilys mum pushed her toward business studies, while I dreamed of becoming a doctornot just any doctor, but a surgeon.
We argued, didnt speak for days, then made up because we couldnt bear being apart. In the end, we each chose our own path, seeing each other less but talking for hours when we did.
In her second year, Emily fell hard for a classmate and wouldnt stop gushing about him. I, meanwhile, wrestled with Latin and anatomy, too busy for romance.
By third year, she had an abortionher parents never knew. By fourth year, she was pregnant again. I disliked her boyfriend and begged her not to marry him, but she wouldnt listen. Her parents ensured she wouldnt be a single mother.
By my sixth year, I realised surgery wasnt for megastroenterology suited me better. Less pressure. Emily and I lost touch for a while until we bumped into each other one day. Shed gained weight, her belly slightly rounded. I hesitated to ask, but she confirmedanother baby on the way.
«My husband wants a boy,» she said, eyeing my ringless fingers. Then came the confession: shed always envied me, thought herself plain, and rushed into marriage out of fear no one else would want her. What nonsense. We promised to stay in touch, but life pulled us apart again.
A year after her sons birth, her husband left.
«He called me a cow,» she sobbed. «Said I trapped him with kids. That hes repulsed by me»
«Why didnt you say something sooner? Id have helped you,» I scolded.
She looked a messsweatpants, hair scraped back, her once-bright eyes dull. Divorce was one thing, but letting herself go? I told her as much, gently.
«Youre still pretty, and yet youre alone,» she shot back. I didnt take offence.
Her kids grewNick started school, and little Lily discovered boys. I had flings but never marriage. No regrets. Fate, perhaps. Emily and I met occasionally, our lives diverging.
Then, on a work trip to Edinburgh, I noticed a man at the conference. Alexander. We kept crossing pathsdining at the same table, chatting. When he mentioned a new clinic opening in our city, I played it cool.
«Would you recommend I take the job?» he asked.
«Your choice,» I said.
On the last night, I left without saying goodbye, assuming hed assume Id be at breakfast. Maybe he had a wife. No ring didnt mean freedom. If he wanted me, hed have asked for my number.
Two months later, Emily invited me over, giddy. «Youve met someone,» I guessed.
Her description matched Alexander perfectly. My stomach lurched.
«Hes just started at my clinic»
«Wait, I thought you worked at the bank?»
«I quit ages ago. Better pay, less stress. Anyway, he offered me a lift home, carried my bags, and I invited him for tea»
«And?» I pressed.
«Nothing yet. But its only a matter of time.»
«Whats his name?» I asked, already dreading the answer.
«Alexander. Alexander Oliver.»
Ice flooded my veins. Coincidence? Or cruel fate? I feigned happiness for her, but bitterness crept in. «If hes so wonderful, whys he single? Something must be off.»
«Youre just jealous,» she snapped. «Youll seeIll marry him.»
Her birthday party sealed it. Alexander recognised me instantly, rushing over while Emily watched, tense. Hed taken the job because of me.
I slipped out. Not worth fighting over a man.
But he followed. «Why did you leave?»
«Emilys my best friend. And shes smitten with you.»
«Theres nothing between us. I only gave her a lift. But Im glad I came tonightI moved here for you.»
He walked me home. Still, no request for my number. Emilys furious calls piled up.
«I never pegged you for a backstabber!» she screamed when I called back.
We fought like schoolgirls over a crush.
«Let me have him,» she begged. «Youre beautifulyoull find someone else. This might be my last chance.»
«Are you sure he even wants you?» I asked. «He chased *me*.»
«Thats none of your business. Just dont interfere.»
I stepped aside. Not worth losing her over a man I barely knew.
A fortnight later, Emily arrived at my door, contrite. «We talked. He likes *you*. I wanted revenge at first, but… you cant force these things. Dont you dare reject him for my sake.»
We drank, cried over the complexities of womanhood, and left as friends.
Alexander and I started dating. Two months later, he proposed. Emily attended my weddingwith a date of her own.
I got pregnant straightaway. Why wait? Emily guided me through my fears, steady as ever.
We remained friendsnot rivals, never enemies. Each found happiness. People say female friendship crumbles at the first man, but ours survived the test. True friendship endures when both choose it over pride.
