‘The London office needs it today so, yeah, now.’
I’m trying, babe, can’t you see, I’m trying. She tried to convey this with her eyes but he wasn’t looking.
She could go over and straddle him. Take his phone and throw it behind the couch and kiss him, really passionately, like the way they did back in their twenties. If only he’d give her even the smallest of hints that he was open to that. She was about to step towards him, but he got up, taking his phone with him.
‘Just need to send a few emails. You go to bed, no need to stay up for me.’ He didn’t turn around as he spoke.
‘Is it me?’ Meena asked, knowing exactly how it sounded. Women blaming themselves for their relationship felt like such a cliché that even she was turned off by her question.
Sophie raised an eyebrow, stirring her coffee with more force than was necessary, splashing a bit onto the saucer. Not a good sign.
‘Do you really want me to answer that without gagging?’ Sophie said drily.
At the table next to them, a group erupted with laughter. Sophie jolted her head in their direction before turning back to face Meena. ‘Guess only boomers can be happy this early in the day,’ she said.
Meena surreptitiously turned to glance at the group. They looked older, sure, but were they boomers? Gen Xers? Or worse, millennials like them? Everyone had grey hair now, whether it was through a seven-hour trip to the hairdresser (she’d seen a young woman do so on Instagram) or just from growing it out in an attempt to give a middle finger to the patriarchy. She was about to say this out loud when Sophie let out a sigh.
‘What’s wrong?’ Meena asked.
Sophie shook her head. ‘No, you see, you can’t ask me that. You’ve already told me something was wrong with you. This means, as your closest and best friend, hashtag BestFriendsForever, I can’t also have my crisis at the same time as you. This goes against the rule of BFFs. Only one crisis at a time, otherwise it’s chaos.’
Meena tried to examine Sophie’s tone. Was she being sarcas- tic? ‘Well, if it helps, mine isn’t really a crisis, it’s more an ongoing predicament,’ she said slowly. ‘Owen didn’t suddenly become disinterested in sex with me. He’s been like this for a while now.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Sophie muttered as she took a sip of her coffee. This time it was clear. Something was definitely going on. ‘So, since mine isn’t an immediate crisis, you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ Meena broached carefully.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to be my therapist.’
‘But isn’t that pretty much the main role of a BFF?’ Meena tried to keep her tone light.
Sophie kept her eyes on her coffee. ‘Todd told me last night that he wants to move to be near his parents.’ Her voice wavered as she spoke. In the seven or so years Meena had known Sophie, she’d never once seen her cry. It alarmed Meena more than it should. She felt herself rushing to make Sophie feel better.
‘Oh, but, you know, men say that from time to time. They’re just mama’s boys at heart. I’m sure you can convince him otherwise.’
‘No, he’s serious. He’s already spoken to his boss to see if it’s even a possibility and they said he can work remotely. I can’t move to some backwater, Meena. It’s six hours away from here. Don’t you see?’ She extended her fingers to show off her perfect French manicure. ‘Look at my nails. Women with nails like these don’t live in in the country.’
‘I’m sure there are nail salons—’
‘No! No, don’t you dare start talking as if the move is actually going to happen.’
‘Okay, okay.’ Meena sat back. ‘But . . . did he actually speak to his boss before you about the move?’ She could see the colour rising in Sophie’s cheeks.
Sophie shrugged. ‘I guess maybe he was checking to see if the move was possible? Maybe he knew I’d make a big deal about it.’ ‘But it is a big deal,’ Meena said. ‘Did he say when he was thinking of moving?’
Sophie didn’t respond. She put the spoon back inside her mug of coffee and started to stir it slowly, losing herself in the swirl of the dark brown liquid.
‘Are you hypnotising yourself like in Get Out?’ Meena asked, smiling. It was a movie they’d watched recently at Sophie’s while sharing a large greasy pizza and a bottle of red.
‘What?’ Sophie asked, snapping herself out of her thoughts.
‘Get Out. Remember the Sunken Place? Though technically it should be me who is being hypnotised—’ Meena stopped herself.
Sophie looked down at her coffee and slowly put down her spoon.
‘So, what are you going to do?’ Meena asked gently.
Sophie shrugged. ‘I’ll figure it out.’
‘Let me help?’
‘Honestly, you’ve got way too much on your plate as it is.’ ‘What? The Owen and lack of sex thing?’
‘Sasha as well. You’re basically a Dance Mom these days driving her around to her various lessons.’
Meena grimaced. ‘Without so much as a thanks in return.’ ‘Well, what more do you expect from a tweenager?’ Sophie said, smiling for the first time. ‘She loves you, even if she doesn’t say it.’
‘Okay, how did we turn this conversation around to talking about me rather than you?’ Meena asked. This was very much like Sophie and their friendship. She would reveal a fragment of how she was feeling, before pulling back and putting an end to any further exploration of her thoughts.
‘Because I hate talking about myself.’
‘No, it’s because you’ve been self-reliant for so long you don’t know what it’s like to let people in.’
Sophie sighed. ‘Oh, come on, Meena, you know more about me than most.’
The table of grey-haired people from an indeterminate generation broke into loud laughter again, interrupting them. Meena suddenly felt irritated at the unnaturally happy group.
Sophie took a big swig of her coffee, downing it in one gulp and stood up. ‘You ready to head off?’
Meena looked at her own cup, still full of the soy flat white she’d ordered.
‘I can grab a takeaway cup for you,’ Sophie offered. ‘You go ahead. I’ve got some emails to answer.’
Top photo source: Supplied/Alex McClintock
