Dear Diary,
Today my exwife, Eleanor, finally snapped. She shouted, Its all your friends doing! I could barely follow the argument, so I threw my hands up and said, Hold on, I dont get any of this. She replied, Of course you dont! Youre playing the clueless, wellmeaning, cluelessabouteverything act. She wondered if Id just keep turning a blind eye.
Shes had it good for a while: a comfortable pension, a loving family, decent friends, and a boyfriend who truly cares for her. Yet, amid that pictureperfect life, a tiny, almost invisible speck of bitterness began to grow. The speck was small at first, barely noticeable against the backdrop of prosperity, but the longer it lingered the more it grated on her, making her want to shove it far awayaway from the nasty taste, colour, and voice it carried.
In Eleanors world that speck turned out to be a person, someone shed known since nursery. Her best friend, Ivy, had been by her side since they were five. Things seemed fine, until both of them graduated and stepped into adulthood. Their circles diverged, and Ivys fortunes never quite matched Eleanors, stirring a quiet envy that found a strange outlet.
At first, for a year, two, even five years, it didnt bother her, but then the old proverb about water wearing away stone proved true. Ivys comments began to chip away at Eleanors patience.
You know, that dress isnt exactly maternityfriendly, Ivy said, halfsmiling. You could buy it, but youll need to get yourself in shape first; by the time you do, the trend will have gone out three hundred times over. Why not take the little suit we looked at earlier?
Eleanor stepped out of the fitting room, feeling a heat rise inside her. Enough with the criticism, she snapped. What criticism? Ivy blinked. You keep saying things like not maternityfriendly and you need to shape up. Are you a fashion police officer?
Ivy, you invited me to help you pick out a dress, Eleanor retorted. Im being honest. If you only wanted praise, you should have said so.
Are you telling me I shouldnt bother people with my toxicity? Ivy shot back. Should I stay within some invisible boundaries of normality?
Hold on, Im lost, Eleanor muttered. Youre making a drama out of nothing.
Exactly! Youre playing the naive, sweettooth who lets you dump all your negativity on me, right? Ivy snarled. Well, I wont. Thats enough for me. Dont call me again, dont even say hello.
Eleanor snatched the dress she liked and bolted from the boutique, leaving Ivy rooted to the spot like a statue. It seemed Ivy cared less about the onlookers and more about the sting of being taken for a fool.
She lingered a moment, mulling over what had just happened, then shrugged and walked toward the exit. From that day she never phoned Ivy again, refusing to bridge the rift because she finally understood where the sudden dislike had stemmed from. Either Ivy would get over it, or she wouldnt; there was nothing she could do to change anyones mind now.
Life went on for Eleanor. The snide remarks about helping relatives, about her husbands involvement in household matters, and, most importantly, about her little daughter Vickys start at the local nursery, all ceased. Her motherinlaw, upon hearing about the fallout, sighed and muttered that parasites eventually have to shed themselves from the neck. Eleanors own mother said the same, and then things got weirder.
A new nursery assistant, who oddly spoke in Ivys tone, warned Eleanor that Vicky showed signs of a behavioural issue that could hint at an unpleasant diagnosis. She suggested a private neurologist and psychiatrist visit to catch any problems early. Its just the staff trying to make a buck, Eleanors mother grumbled at home. Weve never had autism or anything like that in the family.
Nevertheless, Eleanor, wanting to put her conscience at ease, took Vicky for the appointments. The doctors said, Its good you came early; treatment will be easier and less invasive. The suggestion echoed Ivys earlier offhand comment about seeing a specialist, which Eleanor had dismissed as toxic at the time.
Soon after, Eleanors mother and motherinlaw began to make strange demands. Ivy would tell them that the grandparents rarely needed Vicky, but that Eleanors wallet did. As soon as extra expenses for the child arose, the grandparents disappeared one by one, replying to Eleanors pleas for babysitting with, Wed love to, but work, work, the routine is hectic
Then her husband dropped the bomb that he wanted a divorce. I promised to stand by you through thick and thin, he said, but Vickys supposed diagnoses and the constant fuss leave me no time for the rest of the family. I cant go on.
In a few months the oncehappy family fell apart. Eleanor took Vicky and moved into the flat shed inherited from her grandmother. That forced a clash with her own mother, who complained that the flat was meant for hosting the whole clan.
Eleanor, you know itll be awkward if you move in there, her mother protested. Family should support each other in hard times, and you
Eleanor heard it all before; Ivy, watching from the sidelines, kept noting that everyone was getting help from Eleanor in a onesided fashion. Ivy hadnt released toxic comments after all; shed simply been trying, within her limited capacity, to open Eleanors eyes to what was happening at home.
Now her mother, as if nothing had changed, is trying to revive old habits, even after repeatedly refusing to help her own daughter in tough moments. Shes more worried about where to put visiting relatives than about where Vicky and her grandmother will live.
Ivy, for her part, was right about many things. Eleanor, on the other hand, was helpless. Had she listened to her friend earlier, perhaps things would have unfolded differently.
After a final fallout with her mother, Eleanor gathered flowers, a bottle of champagne and some sweets, hoping they wouldnt be tossed back at her doorstep, and went to Ivys door to make peace.
Ivy, please hear me out, dont shut me out straight away, she pleaded as the door opened. Im such a, she stammered.
Come in, tell me everything, Ivy sighed, letting Eleanor in with her modest gentlemans bundle.
Tears were shed, promises of friendship were reaffirmed, and vows were made that Eleanor would never again suspect a dear friend of ill intent. She finally saw who truly wished her well and who only thought of themselves, fleeing when the going got tough.
The two friends reconciled, though Ivy warned that any repeat of the past would not be tolerated. Eleanor promised she would not let it happen again.
Later, her exhusband tried to patch things up, but Eleanor flatly refused to rebuild what he had shattered. Its all your friends doing, turning you against the family, he accused. The same line was echoed by her mother and former motherinlaw, oblivious that theyd built their own coffins.
Looking back, I realise that meddling and suspicion only poison relationships. The lesson I take from all this is that honesty, even when uncomfortable, is far kinder than the bitter poison of unfounded envy. Its better to speak plainly and risk a clash than to let a tiny speck grow into a mountain that destroys everything you hold dear.
