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jpdoingwords · 9 months

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The Hand You Hold

Just finished editing this short for my collection. Kinda like it so thought, why not share early?

[I've changed the title of the collection too - it's now Becoming Something Else. Hopefully for the last time lol]

~~~

How to describe Melda?

I think I have to start with her mum. Everyone called her Mata, and she was a bonafide hippy, a painter and genuinely strange person. She had a habit of staring at herself in the mirror for long stretches of time – even when they had visitors.

She said, when I first went to their place and saw her doing that, that she was an artist ‘searching for her deepest soul’. Melda had just rolled her eyes. Not surprisingly, Melda too was unconventional, and we had an unconventional friendship: we didn't make a lot of demands on each other. Even if I'd been keen to be in her pocket, I'd have had no chance.

She was always busy. She loved sports, watched pretty much all of them, and played many. She took salsa lessons once a week, went swimming every day at the local pool, and did Tai Kwon Do as well; somehow, she squeezed all this around studying full time. I have no idea how she did it.

She was a total extrovert. She could, and did, talk to anyone and everyone. She could never just stand in line for the bus, or walk through the checkouts at Woolies; she had to have a conversation with anyone who made eye contact, whether they wanted to talk to her or not. A remarkable number of people would start off surly but end up chatting happily to her anyway; and everyone remembered her, even the checkout chicks, who saw a thousand faces a day. Back then, I never stopped being amazed by the things she remembered about these virtual strangers. If they had kids, she knew how old it or they were, their names and birthdays; ditto for their dogs; if they'd crashed their car, moved house, got married, engaged, had a birthday, changed jobs. Anything and everything.

In stark contrast, I rarely left my room, except to attend lectures and tutorials, and to eat in the central café. I often wondered why Melda bothered with me, after we met in class during our first semester. She’d just chosen me, and I went along with it.

It was a hot, summer afternoon at my study desk when I remembered that I was supposed to be meeting her at the campus Tavern. I wished I hadn't agreed to go, but it was too late to back out by then, so I reluctantly left my air-conditioned room and hurried across the burning tarmac towards the shade of the trees in the main quadrangle.

Aside from hating the heat, I was also keeping a low profile because one of the girls who lived in the same block as me, Amy, was on my case about donating to the 'campus social fund.' She liked to say that the proceeds were used to pay guest lecturers to speak and such; but I knew it mostly financed student parties. I'd never been to one of those parties and had no intention of ever going, so I saw no reason why I should feel obligated to donate. Amy fervently disagreed with my stance. As I made it to the relative safety of the trees, I saw Melda through the window of the Tavern. She waved, but even at that distance I could see that she was unhappy about something. I went in and took a seat across from her. She had a drink ready for me, which she slid across the table. She was already halfway through her own. 'What is it?' 'John.' That was her long-term boyfriend. 'What's happened?' 'He's been weird the last few days – kinda distant. I asked him what’s wrong, and he said that he feels like an accessory in my life. I told him that’s not true, but he says he feels like he never sees me, and when he does, I’m always distracted.' I understood his position to some extent. Though her unavailability had never bothered me, if I'd been a different kind of person, I could see how that might bother someone. I didn't say that though. 'But you guys go on date nights all the time?' 'Not enough, apparently. We were meant to be going to the cricket on Saturday, just to watch his old team play, but now he says he's not going. I suppose I have to give it a miss, too.' 'Why?' 'He’s made me feel like shit about it.' She sighed. ‘It’s annoying. I wanted to catch up with the girls while I was there.’ I felt bad for her. It wasn’t her fault that she was who she was, and I thought that John was an asshole for making her feel that way. She didn’t choose to be outgoing, that was just how she was made.

I didn’t say that either, though; instead, I suggested, 'I could go with you, if you like?' She stared at me. 'Really? You'll hate it.' 'I'll take a book.' 'You never know - you might get into it,' she said optimistically. That idea was ridiculous, but I'd committed to going, so I tried muster some enthusiasm. 'I have no idea how cricket works.' Melda smiled. 'I'll explain everything. Another drink?' 'Sure,' I said, just glad that she’d cheered up.

***

When Saturday arrived, I prised my eyes open at eleven. I was looking forward to spending the day in bed, and maybe doing a little work on an essay in the afternoon if I could be bothered, but of course – I was going to the cricket. I groaned.

I really didn't want to, but I knew better than to say so to Melda when she arrived. Even if I hadn't thought it was shitty to be a flake, she'd never have let me get away with it, anyway.

Melda had a dodgy old car which ran on prayers and the smell of an oily rag. It made a weird and probably dangerous thumping sound when it reached speeds above eighty. The car was as much a part of our friendship as if it was sedentary.

That morning I wished it really was alive; then it could’ve escorted my overly upbeat friend to the cricket without me.

I was relieved when we reached the ground and I found an area of lawn beneath huge eucalypts where I could stretch out on the grass.

For the first couple of hours of the game, I paid very little attention to the cricket, but eventually, I put the book down and sat up, stretching my back.

I'd have laid back down again, but I was distracted by a situation near the clubhouse. A girl, who was perhaps eighteen but probably younger, very made-up and very confident, was flirting outrageously with a guy who at a glance I took to be at least a few years older than her. They were far enough away that I couldn’t hear what was being said, but he was looking away from her, scowling.

Behind her back, and facing me at an angle, there were three guys who were also watching what was going on. Two of them were laughing between themselves, while the third was slowly shaking his head, his face serious. He must’ve sensed me looking, because he turned and caught my eye. I flushed in embarrassment and snapped my attention back to the field, mortified. When I looked back again, the whole tableaux had shifted, and the serious guy was gone.

I sighed without realising I’d done it, and Melda, who’d been chatting with one of the women behind us, asked, ‘Are you bored?' 'No,’ I said reassuringly.

She gave me a suspicious look. 'I'm watching you.' I snorted. 'Well, that'll bore you.' I allowed my eyes to wander – I wasn’t looking for the guy, I swear, but I found him anyway. He was standing on the boundary line, so I had a chance to get a decent look at him then.

He was dressed in whites, with a bat in one hand and his helmet in the other – padded up, as Melda would say. He was tall, broad shouldered and slim, blonde with a bit of stubble on his face. Good-looking, in my opinion. A few minutes later, one of the batsmen already on the field was caught out, and he took to the field. I didn't do anything that I thought was obvious, besides actually watching the game for the five minutes he was playing, before he too got caught out. As he walked off the field and disappeared into the changerooms, I settled back and took up my book. I'd just opened it when Melda said knowingly, 'Ahh, I see.' I looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

'What?' 'You were checking out Maddox.' 'Mad Ox? Interesting nickname.' 'That's his surname,' she said, spelling it out, before adding, 'He's the team hottie. I was tempted myself, before John; but he has a long-term girlfriend.' She gave me a mock-evil smile. 'I'll introduce you, if you want?' I scoffed. 'Don't you dare.' Melda chuckled before turning back to the woman she'd been speaking to, leaving me to my book.

***

One afternoon a few weeks later, I set out for the city centre. I was in particular need of new music which, in the days before the push of a button delivered every conceivable song to your mobile devices, entailed an expedition. I had wide ranging taste, and I could never get what I was looking for at the local shopping centre. There was one particular store in the CBD where everyone went. They had almost any album you could imagine. I was standing on the platform at the traino, oblivious to everything beyond the book I was reading, when someone put their hands on my shoulders from behind.

I spun around, prepared to use the self-defence moves I'd been taught in a one-day course back in high school, but thankfully it was just Melda. 'You're a prime target for a mugging.' 'I worry that you've thought about that,' I said lightly as I slipped my book into my bag. 'Well, if all goes to wrack and ruin, it's good to have a backup plan.' She grinned before adding, 'What are you doing anyway, other than reading Eliot?' 'Going into the city for new tunes.' 'Nice. I've got to buy a dress for a wedding I'm going to. I'll come with you, if you'll come and offer an opinion on the dress?' 'I don't know how useful I'll be, but sure. Why not?' She asked, 'What's on your wish list?' 'I've been searching for a CD copy of that Eartha Kitt record I have for ages without any luck; and I could always do with more Talking Heads… but maybe something completely different – techno, or hip hop. There’re a few options.' She smiled. 'It's good to keep it diverse.'

The store was in one of the pedestrian malls, and filled three storeys. We stepped off the escalator on the second floor, where I made a beeline towards easy listening and was soon up to my elbows in Frank Sinatra and Roy Orbison. I was reading the track listing of a CD when a voice caught my attention.

Glancing up then swiftly down again, I saw Maddox was in the alternative section, with a girl who I assumed was his girlfriend. She was pretty, with one of those faces that I’ve always thought of as kind – gentle lines, an easy smile. A minute later, Melda came over to me.

'Have you found it?' 'Nah – but look who's here.' I nodded in their direction. She grinned and ducked around the racks, heading for where they were standing. 'Hey Maddox!' He looked over, and for a moment I saw him hesitate, before saying coolly, 'Melda. How's things?' ‘Aw yeah, all good,’ before adding, ‘Hi, Susie.' She said, ‘Hey,’ quietly.

Meanwhile, I was sidling off towards the dance section, further away, hoping Melda would forget I was there, but no such luck.

'Hey Deanna - come here a minute.' I was tempted to pretend I couldn't hear her, but I resigned myself. She would just pursue me across the store if I did – it’d happened before. When I reached them, Melda said to Maddox, 'This is Deanna. She's my friend from uni.' Maddox smiled at me.

'Hey Deanna. We've met before, haven't we?' Up close, I saw that his eyes were very green. I had to remind myself to look respectfully. I shook my head, feeling shy. 'I was at the cricket a few weeks back, though.'

'That’s right. You witnessed Dan Michaels getting flirted at.' There was something about him that made me relax. I guess it was just that he was so casual, and it was contagious. I shook my head a little.

'He looked so awkward about it, I felt sorry for him. And those other two, just laughing about it.' I shook my head again. He replied seriously, ‘That girl’s only sixteen you know. Same age as my sister. I’ve tried to tell her it’s not a good look, but she keeps coming back regardless.’ He paused before saying, ‘This is Susie by the way - my girlfriend.’ He glanced at Melda as he said it.

‘Good to meet you,’ I said to Susie.

She smiled back. ‘You too.’

Maddox asked me, 'What did you think of the game, though?' 'I can’t lie - I’m not into sports. I had no clue what was going on.'

Melda had been remarkably quiet; I looked at her to back me up, and found she’d zoned out, staring into space. She snapped out of it when I looked at her though, and put on an easy smile.

‘She’s not lying. I explained the rules, but she didn’t take any of them in.’ That wasn’t entirely true, but I didn’t argue.

Maddox chuckled as he looked back at me.

'You seriously never played cricket? Not even in school?' 'Hell, no. I'd rather be reading.'

Susie smiled. ‘I’m just the same. Only fools run around for “fun” in the middle of summer.’

‘Exactly,’ I agreed with a chuckle.

Susie turned to Maddox. ‘We should really get going. Mum’ll be waiting.’

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He said cheerfully to me, ‘Good meeting you, Deanna.’ Almost as an afterthought, he added, ‘Seeya, Melda.’ We said goodbye, and I turned back to the racks of CDs.

To my surprise, the copy of Eartha Kitt I’d been looking for was right there – in the wrong section and all. I picked it up, and held it up. 'My luck’s in!' That’s when I noticed she was looking at me with slightly narrowed eyes. 'What?' 'What the hell was that? Or should I say, who the hell was that?' Puzzled, I said, 'I don't know what you mean?' 'Yes, you do! I've known you for two years, and never - not once - have you spoken to a male, of any description.' ‘That’s not true,’ I said, offended. ‘I talk to people in my classes all the time.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You know what I mean – one’s that you think are attractive.’

‘Even if that was true, which it’s not, it’s not like they start conversations with me, either.' Her tone irritated me, and I thought uncharitably that she only believed that because I couldn’t get a word in edge-ways when she was around.

I went to pay, setting the CD on the counter. Melda followed, saying, ‘'What happened at the cricket that you didn't tell me about?' The clerk serving me caught my eye as I gave her the cash, then looked at Melda and back again as she handed me the change with a sympathetic look.

I rolled my eyes, then thanked her as she handed me the bag. Once we were outside, I said, 'I was just watching some guy getting hit on by a young girl, and in the background two of his mates were ripping the piss. You know I'm a people watcher. Maddox saw me looking.' I felt resentful having to explain this. Everything felt out of kilter suddenly. ‘It was nothing,’ I said, drawing a line under it.

She accepted that, and we talked about other stuff, but I could tell that something about all that annoyed her.

***

March arrived, and the days slowly became less offensively toasty. Melda had got over whatever it was that’d made her so sulky with me, though it'd taken far longer than I’d expected. I had asked her what it was that’d been bothering her, but she'd just brushed me off, saying she was just feeling moody. That was plausible, because sometimes she’d been like that in the past, but… it didn’t feel the same.

The truth was, something had shifted between us, but neither of us wanted to admit it or try to figure out what it was, so we ignored it; but she was cooler towards me, and I wasn’t as trusting as I’d been. We saw each other less.

It was Thursday, and I'd just left a lecture. There'd been a rain shower while I’d been indoors, so I threw off my shoes and walked on the grass in the quadrangle, enjoying the rainy grass on my feet. Melda found me like that, enjoying the moment. 'What are you doing?' I looked up without hurry, smiling.

'What does it look like?' 'Well, I know what you're doing, but why are you doing it?' 'Your Mata told me it's called earthing. It’s good for the soul.' She just looked at me, one eyebrow raised. I smiled, just happy to be alive. There was no real reason - sometimes the universe is just like that; it grants me – and I’m sure, everyone else too – these moments of joy for no other reason than that I exist. I thought that the effort to explain that would probably destroy the feeling though, so I ignored her pointed look. She settled onto a bench nearby, pulled a sandwich out of her bag and began eating it, while I continued to walk and smile to myself.

When the sandwich was gone, and I'd had enough of getting my wet feet, she asked, 'Do you feel like going for a walk? I'm going to see John – my next class isn't for a couple of hours.' John worked at an office fifteen minutes' drive from the uni, and she knew I had no classes that afternoon. 'I’d never walk that far, even if I'd just won the lottery and I had to so I could claim the cash.' Melda chuckled.

'I was going to drive down to the park and walk from there. That way I'll get my workout in without going swimming this arvo. John says he wants to take me to the movies.' 'OK, I'll come. No canoodling in front of me, though.' She shook her head with a faint smile. 'I promise.'

We met John outside his office, and while they talked, I went across the street to a café – well, I say they talked, but from what I could see through the window, John ate, while Melda did all the talking. As I drank a coffee, I was thinking disconsolately about the essay I had waiting for me back in my room. It was grim: thirty thousand words on Joyce’s Ulysses - gods.

Eventually I zoned out, looking unseeingly at two men on scaffolding above. They were cleaning the windows of the multi-storey building which stood at right angles to the cafe. I couldn’t see their faces through the distortions of the glass, but one of them was older and bald, the other was younger and blonde; both of them seemed to be completely unconcerned about the height at which they were working.

I couldn't even imagine climbing that high, never mind moving around while I was up there like it was nothing at all. The first gust of wind and I'd be clinging to the railing for dear life - crying, probably. Melda and John had stood up, presumably saying goodbye, so I went to wait for Melda on the sidewalk. 'Deanna?' The voice came from above, and looking up, I saw that the blonde window washer was Maddox. 'Are you stalking me?' The words were out before I thought them through, and I flushed. He just laughed though, and shimmied down the ladder.

I shook my head, and he raised an eyebrow at me. 'I don't like heights,' I explained while I pretended I wasn’t flushing. 'You get used to it,' he said. 'What are you doing here?' I pointed across the road, where John had already moved halfway into the building, while Melda went on talking. John’s arms were crossed firmly. He wasn’t smiling. 'Waiting on the lovebirds,' I said dryly. He looked, pondered them a moment, then said, ‘I think she said you go to the same uni?' 'That's right.' 'One of my mates goes there,' he said. 'He’s studying engineering.' 'Oh, he's one of those.’ He laughed. 'He really is. What are you doing?' 'Arts, English major.' I know I didn’t sound very enthusiastic - the spectre of that Joyce essay was looming over me. He didn’t notice though. Melda was preparing to cross the road and he began moving away.

'I better go. We do this building every Thursday, and the owners are tyrants about quick completion.' He smiled, gesturing up to where the older man was leaning against the railing looking down at them impatiently. 'He'll be on my case as it is. It was good seeing you.' I smiled back. ‘Good to...’

Melda had reached us, and talked over me. 'I didn't expect to see you here, Maddox.' He'd already begun climbing the ladder, and said over his shoulder without turning back, 'Gotta go where the work takes me.'

Melda and I went back in the direction of the park, and we hadn't got very far before she said with a certain brittleness in her voice, 'Must be your lucky day, bumping into Prince Charming again.' I searched her face, wondering where the attitude was coming from. I put it down to the conversation she'd just had with her boyfriend. 'What's going on? John looked a bit sulky.' She said dismissively, 'John's fine. He's just having a moment.' ‘A moment?’

‘Reckons he heard some bullshit rumour about me. I put his mind at ease.’

‘What rumour?’

‘Oh,’ she waved a hand dismissively. ‘The usual thing where I talk to a guy, and onlookers just assume I’m hitting on them so they go tell John I’m cheating, or trying to. You know how it goes.’

It hadn’t happened since we’d been friends, but perhaps it had before we met.

‘Who are you supposed to be cheating with?’

She waved the hand again. ‘Oh, just some guy. You don’t know him.’

She began talking about something else then, and I let it go. She’d tell me if she wanted to. I wasn’t one to push for confidences.

***

I went back to the café the next Thursday, telling myself it had nothing to do with Maddox, but of course it did.

As I walked towards the café from the bus-stop, I anxiously asked myself what I was doing, and the honest answer was that I didn’t know.

Yes, he was attractive, but from what I’d seen of him, he also seemed like a nice person – and at least half my interest was simple curiosity about who he was.

Perhaps I was wrong to act as I did, but at the time, it seemed right.

When Maddox and the older guy had finished work, and the scaf was back on the truck, he came in to buy himself a coffee. He said hi then loitered casually near my table while he waited for his order to be prepared.

He thankfully acted as though he didn't realise I'd come to see him, though of course, he must've known; and afterwards, I realised that he'd probably deliberately mentioned that he’d be there so I’d come back. 'This your new local?' I shrugged, and was about to reply when I saw the old guy drive away in the scaf truck. 'I hope you weren't expecting a ride?' He glanced where I pointed and smiled absently. 'Nah, one of the boys in picking me up to take me to training.’ He hesitated before saying, ‘We had a corker of a wind-up on Saturday. I expected to see you there.' He avoided looking at me as he said it. I could feel my neck and ears turning red, but I said as coolly as I could muster, 'I don't go to those kinds of things – not my cup of tea. I'm sure Melda was in fine form, though.'

'Yeah, you could say that.' He paused, hesitating. ‘She had quite a lot to say about you.' That surprised me. 'She did?' He nodded. The barista called his name then, and he went to collect his coffee before coming back. He pulled out the chair opposite mine, and perched on the edge, like he was ready to spring away at any moment. It must be quite a thing to be that athletic, I thought abstractly. 'What did she say?' I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, but I think I probably sounded anxious. I certainly felt anxious. 'I know she’s your friend, but I don't like back-stabbing, and the things she said about you...’ He grunted in annoyance, pressing the coffee type tabs in on his cup, one after the other. 'She’s a piece of work.’ I'd been watching him warily. I wondered whether I really wanted to hear whatever he was going to say. I had no way of knowing whether it would be true or not; but I decided that I should hear him out. 'What did she say?' I repeated, sounding more apprehensive than before. He took a deep breath.

'She said you're super weird – needy and a bit desperate. She warned me away from you, said I could do better.' He shook his head, muttering, ‘As if she knows anything about me.’ I felt the words like a punch to the chest. She'd called me weird to my face before, but always in a playful way, so I’d thought she was only joking. The desperate and needy really hurt though, because it simply wasn’t true; but it wasn’t a struggle to imagine her saying it – and who knew how much more there’d been, knowing what she was like when she’d been drinking. Into the weighted silence, I said, 'You said she was warning you away from me? Why?' He was still looking down at his cup. 'I asked.'

‘You… oh.’ My face was burning. 'But you have a girlfriend…?’

He interrupted, catching my eye a moment as he said, ‘Had.’ He looked at the cup again.

I couldn’t stop myself asking, ‘What happened?'

He shook his head slowly.

'Has Melda ever told you about me and her?' 'No, not really.' She'd only mentioned that she'd found him hot before she got with John, but I wasn't going to say that to his face. 'Why am I not surprised?' He took a drink before continuing. ‘Ever since she’s been around, she’s tried it on with me. At first, she was dating a friend of mine, Pete - that’s how she got involved with the club in the first place. She used to hit on me openly, in front of him, then when he’d get pissed off, she’d say she was only joking.’ He shook his head, looking out the window. ‘I’ve knocked her back at least a dozen times, I reckon. She really only backed off when Susie came into the picture.’ He looked at me then. ‘Last month, after I saw you guys in the city, that Saturday, she came to the club and had another crack.’ I frowned. 'Another crack?’ 'Got drunk and was all over me, even though Susie was there, and she lost it. Melda and her had a bit of a scuffle.' He sighed, and added, ‘Things between Susie and I were going badly anyway. This was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.’ Leaning back in my chair, I let out a long breath.

I wanted to believe he was lying, but I didn’t. It fit too well with what I did know. She usually told me when she’d been to the club - the fact that she hadn’t mentioned it at all was telling. Then there’d been that ‘rumour’ that’d upset John, which she’d brushed off; and other smaller hints, too… Her moodiness and coolness towards me in the previous months felt like the final seal on what was probably the truth. He was watching my face closely, and when I met his eye, he looked like he was about to say something; but the door opened then, and glancing up, he recognised the guy that'd come in. He stood, and pushed his chair in.

'Here's Pauly. I better go.' He hesitated a moment longer. 'Sorry to tell you all this.'

'It’s better that I know,' I said reassuringly, even though I felt sick. 'Even if it sucks.' He rested a warm hand on my shoulder, pausing a moment before asking tentatively, 'I'll see you around?'

Even with such a lot of difficult thoughts whirring in my brain, I had butterflies at the question, the slightly anxious smile. I smiled back.

‘Same time, same place?’

‘Alright.’

After he was gone, I sat for a long time staring at my fingers curled around the cup in front of me, trying to process everything. I felt devastatingly hurt. I’d been more open with Melda than I was with most people. She understood me, or I’d believed she did – but I’d clearly been wrong. That she’d tried to sabotage the potential relationship out of sheer jealousy was breathtaking in its cruelty. If she’d talked to me about her feelings towards Maddox, I’d have respected them; but the way she’d acted, the things she’d said… I simply couldn’t forgive it.

Still, a part of me insisted I seek out confirmation that what he’d said was true, beyond his words and my own thoughts. So I waited, and left the café in time to intercept John as he left his work.

***

I was in my room working on the final draft of that wretched Joyce essay a couple of days later when there was a knock on my door. I recognised Melda’s knock. She'd tried to call twice, but I hadn’t answered. What was there to say? She said jokingly, 'I know you're in there. I can hear your music.' I didn't answer. 'I'm starting to think you're avoiding me. I know I've been a moody bitch lately, but you know how I am.' 'Do I really, Melda?' 'Are you having an existential crisis in there? Do we need to get you to the Tavern and out of your own head?' 'Nope. I’m perfectly fine,' I replied. It was only a half-lie. 'Are you going to open the door, or are you going to make me stand out here all afternoon?' 'If you want to stand out there all day, that's your business.' She finally twigged that I was serious. I could hear the frown in her voice. 'What's going on?' 'You tell me. Have you got something to say to me?' 'No.’ 'Yeah – it is easier to say things behind my back instead, isn’t it? Then you can just go on pretending we're friends to my face.' There was a pause before she asked, 'Who have you been talking to?’

I closed my eyes for a moment. It was an admission.

She continued, ‘I suppose it’s Maddox. So much for sisters before misters.’

‘How dare you say that to me when your knives are still in my back?’

I could hear the eyeroll in her voice.

‘Stop being so melodramatic. I never said anything about you.’

‘So when he asked you about me, you just said nothing? Righto. That sounds just like you.’

‘You know I meant I haven’t said anything negative. I only told him good things – he just hates me, so he’s twisted it around, hoping you’ll hate me, too.’

‘Interesting way to get with someone you like – break up one of her friendships first. Quite the opening salvo.’

That prodded at her jealousy, as I’d suspected it would. The brittleness was back in her voice.

‘Says a lot for the person he is, doesn’t it? That he’d just lie to get what he wants.’

I sighed. ‘It would – if he’d lied; but John confirmed what he told me. I suppose he hates you too, does he?’

There was a lengthy silence. She must’ve known the jig was up. When she spoke again, her voice was flat.

‘So – what. We aren’t friends anymore?’

‘No,’ I confirmed.

She said with derision, ‘I don’t need you anyway.’

At some point, when I made no reply, she walked away; though I didn’t hear her go.

~~~

Contents page of the Collection

#jpdoingwords #BecomingSomethingElse #short story #original fiction #contemporary fiction #failing friendships #the title is from an Everclear quote #you were blind to the fact that the hand you hold #is the hand that holds you down #wip wednesday