**A Friendship Tested**
Katie and I have been friends since schoolyear seven, to be exact, when she moved into our neighbourhood. Back then, I didnt have any close girlfriends. Most of the girls orbited around Lucy Mayfield, the school beauty, whose father was a university professor. The rest of us, myself included, stayed independent.
I never bowed to Lucy, but I didnt clash with her eitherneutrality suited me. While her clique sized up the new girl, digging into her background, I took Katie under my wing. Naturally, I filled her in on Lucy and her hangers-on.
*»Why are you always alone? Rebelling?»* Katie asked me once.
*»No, just independent. I like my own company. But if youd rather be with them, I wont hold it against you.»*
She chose me instead. We werent bulliedjust ignored. I showed her around the school, introduced her to teachers and classmates, gave her the lay of the land. For the record, Lucy, the professors daughter, didnt follow in her fathers footsteps. Last I heard, she worked in a boutique and pretended not to recognise me.
Katie was cleverer than meprettier too, or so I thought. At that age, I hated my reflection: too plump, too busty, legs too short, hair a wild mess. A proper ugly duckling. Meanwhile, Katie had smooth blonde hair, bright blue eyes, just the right curves, and legs like a gazelle. Years later, she confessed shed envied *me* back thenthought *I* was the pretty one.
We grew inseparable. We even planned to go to the same universityuntil Katies mum pushed her towards economics, while I dreamed of medicine. Not just any doctorsurgery or nothing. We argued bitterly, didnt speak for three days. Then we made up, because life apart was unbearable. In the end, we each went our own way, meeting less often but talking for hours when we did.
By second year, Katie fell hard for a bloke from her coursewent on about him nonstop. Meanwhile, I struggled with Latin and anatomy, too busy for romance. In third year, she had an abortionher parents never knew. By fourth year, she was pregnant again. I hated the bloke, begged her not to marry him. She wouldnt listen. Her parents made sure she wouldnt be a single mother.
By sixth year, I realised surgery wasnt for megastroenterology suited me better. Less pressure. Katie and I lost touch for a while, but we bumped into each other one day. Shed put on weight, her face rounderI wondered if she was pregnant again but didnt ask. She pushed a pram with a little girl in pink. Catching my glance at her belly, she confirmed it: another baby.
*»Husband wants a boy.»*
She was shocked I was still single. Then she admitted shed envied me at schoolthought *she* was the plain one, rushed into marriage out of fear no one else would want her. Silly girl. We promised to stay in touch.
A year after the boy was born, her husband left her.
*»He called me fat. A cow. Said I trapped him with kids, that I disgust him…»* she sobbed.
*»Why didnt you say anything sooner? Id have helped you,»* I scolded.
She looked dreadfulsweats, hair in a scraggly ponytail, those blue eyes dull. I told her, as a friend, she couldnt let herself go like that.
*»Youre still pretty, and youre still alone,»* she shot back.
I didnt take offence.
Years passed. Her son, Jake, started school; her daughter, Emily, fancied boys. I had flings but never marrieddidnt fret over it. Just my lot in life. Katie and I met occasionally, but we had separate lives.
Then came a medical conference in London.
A man caught my eyestaying in the next hotel room. Sometimes you just *know*. We even shared a table at dinner. Hearing where I was from, he mentioned a new clinic therehis friend ran it, had offered him a job.
*»Ive heard of it. And your friend,»* I said.
*»Would you recommend I take it?»* asked Edward.
*»Your choice,»* I replied neutrally.
On the last night, there was a reception. We talked, drank wine. I glanced at my watchmy train left in two hours. Just as I meant to say goodbye, someone distracted him. I slipped away, no farewell.
I thought he liked me too, but he never asked for my number. Maybe he assumed wed meet at breakfast. Or maybe he had a wife. No ring doesnt mean a thing. Men should take the lead in these matters.
*»Hell be surprised when Im gone,»* I thought, half-smug, half-regretful. *»Pity it ended before it began.»* I sighed and forced him from my mind. Not meant to be.
Two months later, Katie rang, giddy, inviting me over.
*»Whats happened? You sound thrilled,»* I said.
*»Come and see,»* she teased.
That weekend, I brought sweets for the kids, a bottle of wine for us. Katie glowedhair styled, weight lost, eyes bright again.
*»Youre in love,»* I guessed.
*»Ive met this man…»* She sighed dreamily.
As she described him, all I saw was Edward.
*»Youd adore him. Perfect,»* she gushed.
Jake was at his grandmas; Emily was out with friends. Time flies. I felt ancientmaybe I *should* have had kids young, like her. We drank, ate ice cream.
*»Hes new at the clinic…»* she mused.
*»Waityou work at a bank.»*
*»Oh, right. I quit ages ago. Better pay at the clinic. Less stress. Anyway, I was leaving the accounts office with my laptop, and he offered me a lift. Carried my bag upstairs, and Iwell, I invited him in for tea…»*
*»And?»* I pressed.
*»Nothing… yet. But its coming.»*
*»So theres *nothing* between you?»* I hid my relief. *»Whats his name?»* (I already knew.)
*»Edward. Edward Alistair Whitmore.»*
Ice poured down my spine. Coincidence? Or fates cruel joke? Katie prattled onhow kind he was, how shed invite him to her birthday, how
*»And hes single? Odd for a man like that. Something must be off,»* I said, souring her honey.
She shrugged. *»Youre just jealous. Youll seeIll marry him.»*
Devastated, I clung to hope it wasnt *my* Edward. I wished her luck, made excuses, and left.
At her birthday party two weeks later, I saw him. Edward recognised me instantly, rushing over. Katie watched, jealous.
Hed taken his friends offer. *»Want to work with us? When I heard there was an opening, I thought of you,»* he said.
*»Ill think about it,»* I deflected.
Katie pulled him away to help in the kitchen. Seizing the moment, I left. Was I really going to brawl with my best friend over a man?
The one time I met someone Id marry in a heartbeat, and *she* wanted him. *»Wheres the fairness? Why wasnt he bolder? Shouldve asked for my number in London…»* I fumed walking home.
Then he called my namehed followed me.
*»Why did you leave?»*
*»You know Katies my best friend? And shes mad about you.»*
*»Theres nothing between us. I gave her a lift once, and she spun it into a fantasy. But Im glad I came tonightbecause of you. I moved here for you.»*
He walked me home. Still, no request for my number. At home, ten missed calls from Katie. I rang back.
*»I didnt expect this from you. What kind of friend steals a man?»* she shrieked.
*»Katie, I met him *first*. He saw me and was happyhes new here, knows no one…»*
We squabbled like schoolgirls over a crush.
*»Let me have him,»* she begged suddenly. *»Youre free, beautifulyoull find someone. This might be my last chance. Please.»*
*»Are you sure *he* wants you? If he flirted with me»*
*»Not your concern. Just stay out of it. Theres nothing between you, right?»*
*»No.»*
I barely knew Edward. He wasnt the last man on earth. The whole mess repelled me. If I saw him again, Id talk properly. Two days later, he turned up at my surgery with flowers. I told him about Katie.
*»Youve put me in a spot, Victoria. What do I do?»*
*»Shes my best friend. I wont fight over you. Sorry, Edwardwe shouldnt meet again.»*
Weeks passed. Then Katie visited. Braced for another row, I was stunned when she said:
*»We talked. He likes *you*. At first, I wanted revenge. Then I realisedyou cant force love. Forgive me, Vic. I wont interfere. Dont you dare turn him down for my sake.»*
A weight lifted. We drank, cried over lifes twists, parted as friends.
Edward and I started dating. It was easy. Two months in, he proposed. Katie came to the weddingwith a date of her own.
I got pregnant straight away. Why wait? Long overdue. Katie calmed my fears whenever I called.
We stayed friends, not rivalscertainly not enemies. Each found happiness. We couldve torn each other apart. They say female friendship dies at the first man. Ours survived the test.
