A Dream of Female Friendship
Emma and I had been friends since secondary schoolsince Year Seven, to be precise, when she moved into our neighbourhood. Most of the girls in class had formed a tight circle around the schools golden girl, Lucy Whitmore, whose father was a university professor. The rest of us, me included, kept to ourselves, neither worshipping at Lucys altar nor picking fights with her.
When Lucys clique began sizing up the new girlprobing into her family, her backgroundI took Emma under my wing. Of course, I warned her about Lucy and her sycophants.
Why are you alone? Protesting? Emma asked me once.
No, I just like my own company. But do as you please. If you want to be friends with them, I wont hold it against you.
Emma chose me. We werent bullied, just ignored. I showed her around school, introduced her to teachers, explained the social hierarchy. Years later, Id see Lucy working in a boutiqueso much for following in her fathers footsteps. She pretended not to recognise me.
Emma was cleverer than me, prettier tooor so I thought. At that age, every girl despises her reflection. My body felt all wrongtoo broad, too short, my curls a wild tangle. Emma, meanwhile, had smooth blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and legs that went on forever.
Only years later would she admit shed envied me.
We became inseparable, even planned to attend the same university. But Emmas mother pushed her toward economics, while I dreamed of medicinenot just any doctor, but a surgeon. We argued, didnt speak for days, then made up because life without each other was unbearable. In the end, we went our separate ways, meeting less often but talking for hours when we did.
In her second year, Emma fell for a boy on her course. She wouldnt stop gushing about him, while I struggled with Latin and anatomy, too busy for romance. By her third year, shed had an abortion; by her fourth, she was pregnant again. I didnt like the boyfriend, begged her not to marry him, but she wouldnt listen. Her parents made sure she wouldnt be a single mother.
By my sixth year, I abandoned surgery for gastroenterologyless pressure, more routine. Emma and I didnt meet for two years until we bumped into each other on the street. Shed gained weight, her belly roundedwas she pregnant again? I didnt dare ask. A little girl in pink sat in the pram. Emma caught me staring and confirmed she was expecting.
My husband wants a boy, she said.
She was shocked I was still single, then admitted shed envied me at school, called herself a wallflower, afraid no one would ever want her. How foolish. We promised to stay in touch, but life got in the way.
A year after her son was born, her husband left.
He called me fat. A cow. Said I trapped him with children. She sobbed into the phone.
You shouldve told me sooner. Id have helped you lose weight, I scolded.
She looked awfultracksuit, hair scraped back, her once-bright eyes dull.
Youre still beautiful, and still alone, she snapped. I didnt take it to heart.
Time passed. Her son started school; her daughter discovered boys. I had flings but never married. Our meetings grew rare. Then, during a medical conference in London, I noticed a man in the hotelAlexander. We shared a table at dinner, talked for hours. He mentioned a new clinic in my city, asked if Id recommend it.
Thats your decision, I said.
On the last night, we drank wine at a reception. I checked my watchmy train left soon. He was pulled away by someone; I slipped out without saying goodbye.
Had he liked me? Maybe. But he hadnt asked for my number. No matter. Fate, or lack thereof.
Two months later, Emma called, giddy.
Come over. Youll never guess.
I brought sweets for the kids, wine for us. Emma was radianthair cut, weight lost.
Youre in love, I guessed.
Ive met someone She sighed dreamily.
As she described him, I saw Alexander in my mind.
Hes perfect, she gushed.
Her son was at his grandmothers; her daughter out with friends. We drank, ate ice cream.
He just started at the new clinic
Wait, I thought you worked at the bank.
I quit ages ago. Better pay at the clinic. Anyway, I was leaving the office with my laptop, and he offered me a lift. Carried my bags upstairs, and Iwell, I invited him in for tea
And?
Nothing yet. But soon.
So theres nothing between you? I tried to hide my relief. Whats his name?
Alexander. Alexander Oliver.
Ice water flooded my veins. Coincidence? Or fates cruel joke? Emma prattled onhow kind he was, how shed invite him to her birthday, how
And hes single? Odd for a man like that. Maybe somethings wrong with him.
She shrugged. Youre just jealous. Just waitIll marry him.
I left, heart sinking.
At her birthday party, I saw him. Alexander recognised me instantly, rushed over. Emma watched, tense.
I took the job because of you, he admitted.
Emma dragged him away. I slipped out.
He caught me outside.
Why did you leave?
You know Emmas my friend, dont you? Shes mad about you.
Theres nothing between us. I only gave her a lift. But Im glad I came tonightbecause of you.
He walked me home. Still, no number asked.
Emma called, furious.
You stole him!
We fought like schoolgirls.
Let me have him, she pleaded suddenly. Youre beautiful, freeyoull find someone else. This might be my last chance.
Are you sure he even wants you? If he chased me
Thats not your concern. Just stay out of it.
I met Alexander days later, flowers in hand.
Emmas my friend. I wont fight over you.
A week passed. Emma visited, calm.
We talked. He likes you. I wanted revenge at first, but its pointless. Forgive me. Dont you dare refuse him for my sake.
Relief washed over me. We drank, cried, reconciled.
Alexander proposed two months later. Emma attended my weddingwith a date of her own.
I got pregnant straight away. Why wait? Emma soothed my fears over the phone.
We stayed friends, not rivals, certainly not enemies. Each found her happiness. They say female friendship lasts only until the first man comes along. Ours survived.
