«It’s all because of your friend,» my exhusband blurted out.
«Hold onhold onhold on, I haven’t the faintest clue what’s going on,» I replied, more baffled than ever.
«Exactly! You pretend to be all clueless, sweethearted, and utterly unaware,» he snapped. «Do you think I’ll just turn a blind eye?»
Sometimes life looks perfect: a decent income, a loving family, a solid circle of mates, and even a boyfriend who adores you. Then, out of the blue, a tiny grain of sand gets lodged in the picturebarely noticeable at first, but the longer it stays the more it grates, driving you to want to fling it far away, away from its ugly colour, taste its voice.
In Megan’s world that grain was a person, and a very close one at that.
Her best mate, Emma, had been by her side since nursery. Everything seemed fineuntil university ended and the two women stepped into adulthood. Suddenly, Emma felt replaced.
Perhaps their social circles simply drifted apart, or maybe Emma’s life hadn’t taken off as smoothly as Megan’s, sparking a quiet envy. That envy found a strange outlet.
Honestly, the first year, two years, even five, it barely bothered me. Then it did.
As the old saying goes, constant pressure wears down even the hardest stone.
And then it hit the fan.
«Mate, that dress is absolutely not suited for a postbaby figure,» Emma said, eyeing the garment. «You could buy it, sure, but you’d need to get your shape sorted firstby the time it’s on trend again it’ll have been out of style a hundred times over.»
«Better stick with that little suit we looked at first, yeah?»
Megan, just out of the fitting room, glared at Emma, feeling a slow boil rise inside her.
«Listen, can you stop slinging these little jabs at me?» she snapped.
«What jabs?» Emma blinked, surprised.
«The ones like, ‘not for a postbaby figure’ and ‘get your shape sorted’ Are you some sort of fashion police?» Megan retorted.
«You called me over to help pick something, didn’t you? I’m being honest. If you only wanted me to say ‘yes, it looks great, take it,’ you should have said that from the start.»
«What else was I supposed to say? That you shouldn’t bother people with your toxicity?» Megan shot back. «That there are some boundaries you ought to respect?»
«Hold onhold onI still have no idea what you’re getting at.»
«Exactly! You act like you’re all innocent, trying to be kind, yet you have no clue what’s happening,» he muttered. «Do you think I’ll just stand by and let you dump all your negativity on me? Do you expect me to be some naïve fool for you to unload onto?»
«Well, I won’t. That’s enough for me. You can stop calling, stop even saying hello!»
«And I’m still taking that dress, understand?» With that, Megan snatched the dress and bolted, leaving Emma rooted to the spot like a statue.
Emma, for her part, seemed less worried about the onlookers noticing their spat and more about the sting of betrayal from her friend.
She lingered a moment, mulling over something, then, with a sigh, walked toward the exit of the Westfield centre as if nothing had happened.
Megan never called Emma again, nor tried to patch things up, because she finally saw where the sudden animosity had sprung from.
Either the truth would reach Megan someday, or it wouldn’t. In any case, external pressure could no longer sway her.
Megan kept on living the life she chose, her best one yet.
The snide remarks about helping relatives, about her husbands involvement at home, and, most importantly, about her daughter Lucys start at nursery, all fell silent.
When her motherinlaw caught wind of the row between Megan and Emma, she merely sighed and muttered something about eventually having to shake off parasites clinging to her neck. Megans own mother echoed the sentiment. And then
The oddities began.
First, at Lucys nursery a new caregiver, echoing Emmas words, flagged Lucys behaviour as potentially indicative of a concerning diagnosis. She suggested a private visit to a neurologist and psychiatrist, warning that early detection could make treatment easier.
«Oh, those doctors just love to label a child,» the motherinlaw grumbled when Megan mentioned the advice. «Weve never had an autistic child or anything like that in the family.»
Still, Megan, wanting to ease her conscience, took Lucy for a checkup. The specialists said, «Good you brought her in early; we can intervene now and avoid bigger problems later.»
Thats when Emmas warning resurfaced in Megans mind. Six months earlier, Emma had casually mentioned a neurologist and psychiatrist, saying Lucy should see them because she behaved oddly. Back then, Megan dismissed Emma as toxic and bad, paying no heed to her words. In hindsight, the comment seemed oddly prophetic.
Further unsettling calls came from Megans mother and motherinlaw. Emma constantly warned that the grandmas werent really interested in the granddaughter; they cared about Megans wallet. As soon as the familys cash flow dwindled, the grandmothers vanished one by one.
Whenever Megan asked for a few hours of babysitting, the response was the same: Wed love to, but were swamped, busy, you know how it is
Then came the bombshell from her husband: he was filing for divorce.
«Listen, Megan, I promised to stick by you through thick and thin, but Lucys supposed diagnoses and the constant chaos leave me with no time for anything else. I cant go on like this.»
In a few short months, the happy family cracked wide open.
Megan took Lucy and moved into a flat shed inherited from her grandmother. That sparked a fresh argument with her own mother, who was used to using that flat whenever she hosted a slew of relatives.
«Megan, you know itll be awkward for me if you move into that flat!» her mother protested. «Family should support each other in tough times, and you»
«Enough,» Megan muttered, having heard it all before. Only Emma, watching from the sidelines, kept pointing out that everyone was getting help from Megan unilaterally.
Emma hadnt been letting toxic comments slip as the story later suggested; shed been trying, within her limited means, to open Megans eyes to the reality of her family life.
Now, once more, Megans mother tried to revive an old tune, after having repeatedly refused to help her daughter in hard times. She wasnt even fretting about where Lucy and her own mother would stay, but rather about where to put visiting relatives so they wouldnt feel like they were staying in a pigsty.
Emma was right, in every respect. And Megan? Shed simply been outwitted.
If only shed listened to her friend and looked at things from an outside perspective, perhaps things would have turned out differently.
Having finally split with her mother and settled into the grandmothers flat, Megan gathered flowers, a bottle of champagne, and a box of chocolates, hoping the gifts wouldnt be tossed back at her door. She headed to Emmas house to make peace.
«Emma, just hear me out, please dont shut the door on me straight away,» she pleaded as Emma opened the door, letting her in with the gentlemans kit shed brought.
Tears were shed, vows of friendship renewed, and promises made that neither would ever again suspect the other of such mischief.
Now Megan finally understood who truly wished her well and who only thought of themselves, fleeing when the going got tough.
The two friends eventually reconciled, though Emma warned Megan that history wouldnt repeat itselfsomething Megan was determined not to allow.
The exhusband later tried to patch things up with his former wife, but Megan flatly refused to rebuild what hed shattered.
«Its all your friend!» the exhusband had once declared, accusing Emma of turning her against the family. The same line was echoed by Megans mother and even her former motherinlaw, oblivious to the fact that the crib they all bickered about had been built by Megan herself, with no Emma to blame.
