28 October
Its been a strange week, and I feel the need to put it down on paper before it all swirls away.
My exhusbands voice still echoes in my head: Its all your friends doing. I stared at him, halfasleep, and thought, What on earth am I supposed to understand? He laughed, Exactly, you dont. You play the naïve, everhelpful, clueless victim as if Ill just turn a blind eye.
There were moments when everything seemed to fall into place a modest income, a loving family, a decent circle of friends, and a boyfriend who actually cares for me. Then, out of the blue, a tiny irritation crept in, like a grain of sand in a perfect glass of tea. It was almost invisible at first, but the longer it lingered the more it gnawed at me, and I wanted nothing more than to shove it far away, away from the awful colour, taste voice
In my life, that grain was a person someone Id known forever. My best friend, Lucy, had been by my side since we were in the nursery at StMarys. Things were fine, or so I thought, until we both finished university and stepped into the adult world. Somewhere along the line our circles split. Perhaps Lucys career never took off the way mine did, and jealousy found a strange outlet.
Honestly, the first few years one, two, even five it didnt bother me. Then, as the old saying goes, water wears away stone, the erosion began.
Emma, that dress is not for a postbirth body, Lucy said, waving a sleek black number at me. You could buy it, sure, but youll need to get your shape back first itll be out of fashion a hundred times over. She suggested the cheap jumper wed glanced at earlier instead.
I had just stepped out of the fitting room, feeling the fabric against my skin, when a hot flush rose in my chest. Can you stop slinging me these comments? I snapped. What do you mean, comments? Not for a postbirth figure, you need to sort yourself out Are you the fashion police?
Lucys eyes widened. You invited me over to help you pick outfits. Im telling it as I see it. If you only wanted me to say yes, it looks great, take it, you should have said that from the start.
I could feel the tension building, my voice shaking. What am I supposed to say? That you shouldnt be so toxic? That you need to stay within some invisible normality?
Again, I heard the same baffling line, Stopstopstop, I dont get any of this. I told her, Exactly, you dont understand. Youre pretending to be the caring, clueless friend while youre actually feeding me negativity. Do you think Ill just stand by and let you dump all this spite onto me? I told her I was done. Im not going to be your punching bag any longer. Call me if you wish, but dont even bother saying hello.
I snatched the dress I liked and fled the shop, leaving Lucy rooted to the floor like a statue. Around us, a few onlookers glanced our way, but Lucy seemed more worried about the sting of my words than about the eyes watching us.
She lingered for a minute, mulling over something, then, with a sigh, walked towards the exit of the Westfield centre as if nothing had happened. I havent called her since, nor have I tried to mend the rift I finally saw why the sudden animosity had taken hold. Either I would get through to her, or I wouldnt; the point was, I could no longer be swayed by outside influence.
Life carried on, and I finally had a quiet existence. No more snide remarks about helping my motherinlaw with household chores, no more comments about my husbands involvement in family affairs, and, most importantly, none about my little daughter, Poppys start at nursery.
When my motherinlaw learned of the fallout between Lucy and me, she merely sighed and muttered something about shell have to shed the parasites on her neck sooner or later. My own mother said the same. Then the oddities began.
At Poppys nursery, a new caretaker, who oddly sounded like Lucy, mentioned that Poppy displayed behaviours that could hint at a concerning diagnosis. She suggested we take her to a neurologist and a psychiatrist, preferably privately, to catch any issues early. My motherinlaw huffed, Oh, they just want to stick a label on the child. Weve never had autistic or schizophrenic children in this family. Still, I decided to book appointments just to set my conscience at ease.
The doctors assistant said, Good you brought her in early we can intervene with minimal treatment and help her adapt to a normal life. It reminded me of Lucys words from months ago about seeing a specialist. At the time I dismissed her as toxic and bad, but now I see how those comments foreshadowed this.
Soon after, Lucys mother and my own motherinlaw began making frantic phone calls. Lucy kept telling me that the grandmothers werent really interested in the granddaughter; they were after my wallet. As soon as the familys finances started to tighten, the grandmothers vanished one after another, giving the same rehearsed excuse, Wed love to help, but were swamped with our own chores.
Then my husband dropped the bomb: he was filing for divorce. Emma, I promised to stand by you through thick and thin, but these endless medical appointments for Poppy leave no time for the rest of the family. I cant go on like this. In a few short months, the once happy household fell apart.
I moved Poppy into a flat I inherited from my late grandmother. That meant a fresh fight with my mother, who was used to the idea that the flat was a communal space for visiting relatives. Emma, you know itll be awkward if you move in there! Family should support each other in hard times, she complained. I heard the same refrain from Lucy, who watched everything from the sidelines, claiming I was receiving onesided help.
In truth, Lucy wasnt letting toxic comments fly as I once thought; she was trying, within her limited means, to open my eyes to what was happening at home.
Now my mother, as if nothing had changed, is trying to revive old habits, after repeatedly refusing to help my daughter during her rough patches. She worries less about where Poppy will live with her grandmother and more about where to put visiting relatives so they dont stomp on the carpet.
Lucy was right about everything, and I? I was the fool who didnt listen. If only I had looked at things as she did, perhaps Id have avoided this mess.
Having finally settled into my grandmothers flat, I gathered flowers, a bottle of champagne and some biscuits, hoping they wouldnt be thrown back at me the moment I arrived at Lucys door.
Lucy, please just hear me out, dont shut the door on me straightaway, I pleaded as she opened it, letting me in with my gentlemans kit.
Tears were shed, promises were made, and we vowed never again to doubt each other’s loyalty. I now understand who truly wishes me well and who only thinks of themselves, and who runs when the going gets tough.
We eventually reconciled, though Lucy warned me that history wont repeat itself without consequences. I wont let it happen again.
My exhusband tried to make amends later, but I flatout refused to rebuild anything he had shattered.
Its all her friends doing, turning you against the family, he insisted. The same line was echoed by my mother and former motherinlaw, oblivious that the cradle they blamed on Lucy was actually theirs to begin with.
