Louise Hegarty

“I told you I wanted something quiet,' Abigail says. 'In fact, I told you I didn't want this at all. My brother's dead. How can you be dancing in my front room when my brother's dead?' Her friend is silent for a moment. 'I thought you would enjoy this. I thought it would be good to get your mind off things. You seemed fine,' says Frances. And those final words hit her in the chest like a train. 'I seemed fine?' Abigail repeats. 'I mean...' says Frances, 'you're handling things remarkably well. I'm in awe of you. If I was in your situation, I wouldn't be able to get out of bed. I'd be crying constantly.' Abigail sways a little. 'It took me three hours to get out of bed this morning,' she says. 'And I cry all the time. I'm barely able to get through the day.' Frances's face is blank. 'Well, I didn't know. I mean, you never said. I can't read your mind.' Abigail thinks she will faint. 'Can't read my mind' She is incredulous. 'No one is asking you to read my mind. Do you have any sense at all? My brother is dead. It's been less than two months now and because I seem presentable and I can walk upright you think I'm fine. How could I possibly be fine? How will I ever be fine again?' But Frances has become defensive. 'How am I supposed to know how you're dealing with it? You never tell me anything.' Abigail has a million things she could say but she raises her hand and just slaps her instead.”
― Louise Hegarty, Fair Play