What You Did

by Claire McGowan

I smiled too, feeling guilt mingle with relief as our feet once again found the common ground between us. She was still my best friend, even if we didn’t see each other much, even if our lives had diverged.

Despite all that, time hadn’t come between us. And I was proud of that, of keeping our friendship, of saving it from that odd cooling we’d had in the months after university.

Her two kids played on the floor with the resignation of children who have learned to wait around in official spaces.

Twenty-five years gone, lost like something dropping out of my pocket.

There were always a few moments before he answered any question. I liked that. I liked the feeling he was thinking about what you’d said, considering it.

He knew it was over, they both did, but it was surprisingly hard to let go.

We aren’t meant to know what other people think in this level of detail.’

So stupid, the things I worried about. As if any of it mattered now.

Everyone was so calm. It was amazing, really. Here was the worst moment of my life, terrible seconds crowding on top of each other until it seemed things could hardly get worse, and there they were in their reflective coats, the ambulance and court officers and the police, putting it all calmly back together just as fast as we kicked it to pieces.

I was surprised by the pang of something that struck me. Something like jealousy, or more likely sadness at the friendship we could have had all these years. Had I not made the choices that I did.

You’d think you’d chosen a man who was loving, and passionate, and intense, until the day you said the wrong thing or made the tea the wrong way

I felt the years of our friendship, the foundations of it under me, crumble away to nothing.

I hadn’t listened then, and look where it had got me. But sometimes it takes a long time to learn our lessons.

a strange sort of calm came over her, like the same feeling she got when she was little and came home on a cold day to the fire lit and cartoons on and snacks ready on a plate.

Something flooded through me. Joy, relief, a wild fear. I’d opened it, that locked box. I’d pushed things over the line.

How I envied her, watching her bustle around. The certainty of knowing you had skills, you could save someone.

It’s funny how simple things, when you overthink them, turn into impossible tasks.

I can honestly say I’ve never before or since felt happiness like that, so pure and shining. So full of hope.

I started to want what I’d never even known I was allowed to before.

Always our responsibility to keep ourselves safe, never the men’s not to hurt us.

I needed her to feel safe, not judged and ashamed. I knew now that shame could corrode a life right down to the bones.

I’d fought it for so long it felt strangely inevitable. I hadn’t been able to stop any of it, and my efforts had only made things worse. It was time to just give in.

A journey she could send no postcards from.

your wedding is perilously close to a licence to let out the selfish little diva inside all of us. It says to girls – you won’t matter any more, not after this, so for today you get to matter the most.

I wondered if I’d ever feel happy again. Peaceful, and well, and hopeful.