My friend from the countryside came to visit us in London. She hoped to stay at ours, not wanting to splurge on a flat or a guesthouse. I didnt really want her moving inespecially since we had barely more than one roombut I couldnt say no. Mum was well-acquainted with her mother; you know how that goes.
So, she arrived one rainy Tuesday and settled in. I noticed immediatelyshe wandered about in faded jeans, wearing a blouse with a rather daring neckline. Makeup painted her face every morning. She never once offered to help with chores, despite my swollen stomach; I was nearly eight months pregnant.
Most days, she lounged at home, especially when my husband had his days off work. She remained glued to the sofa, never stepping out. For three weeks she lived like this, and my nerves were frayed to the edgeuntil that bizarre night.
We were getting ready for bed. My husband lingered in the kitchen, staring at something on his laptop. I lay sleepless, and my friend perhaps believed I was already deep in dreams. Through the haze of drowsiness, I saw her rise and glide into the kitchen, clad in a near-transparent nightgown. I followed, tiptoeing quietly into the shadowy hallway and peering in sideways.
She sat herself boldly atop the table in full view of my husband. He asked, Cant sleep? and she replied, Neither can you. Wanted me here, didnt you? My husband blinked and said, What do you mean? She smirked, Oh, dont pretend. Your wifes asleep; relax, she wont hear a thing. Ill just
With that, she stood and closed the kitchen door tight.
Suddenly, I knew I had to act. I wanted to fling open the door, to seejust as my husband cracked it ajar, grabbed her wrist, and began chastising her in a low, fierce whisper: Have you lost your mind? Who said I wanted this? I have a wife! You need to pack up and gonow.
Her face blushed scarlet. Both saw me waiting in the hallway. My husband flicked on the light, snatched her bag, and began shoving her belongings inside. My friend, still wrapped in her filmy gown, stammered, WaitI think youre misunderstanding
But my husband took her firmly by the arm and ushered her out, dragging her bag behind. There she stood on the stairwell, shivering in her nightgown, and I felt overwhelmed with shame for her. My husband, passing me with a stern glare, barked, If youre planning to bring friends here again, youd better warn me; Ill move out beforehand.
I replied, Never again.
Since that night, everything has been peaceful. I no longer speak to that friend, and I feel proud of my husband, though deeply embarrassed by such a friend of mine.
