My friend was always complaining about her life and sapping my energy, so I had to stop seeing her
Can you imagine, that idiot’s forgotten to buy bread again! Honestly, Alice, I wrote him a list, plain English, stuck it on the fridge, even think I stuffed it in his pocket, and he still strolls in empty-handed, grinning. Seriously, Alice, why me? Other people have proper husbands, and I get this walking disaster.
Her voice on the phone grated, swinging from shrill to tragic whisper. I held the phone away from my ear, wincing. I half-expected little darts to start flying out of the earpiece. I was in the middle of my kitchen, mobile wedged to my shoulder, trying to slice a cucumber for the salad, but the call was draining all my strength. The knife slid limply, no enthusiasm at all.
Sarah, maybe he was just tired after work? I tried to interject as she paused for breath, having been in this conversation for nearly forty minutes. Hes been on his feet at the factory for twelve hours…
Tired?! she nearly shrieked. Am I not tired? I sat at my desk all day with those bloody accounts, my eyes are burning, backs shot, my boss is a nightmare kept my bonus again. And at home? Not a lick of help or sympathy. Easy for you to say, your Tom is golden, always fussing over you. I slog along like a mule…
I let out a long sigh. Id heard this monologue, in an assortment of versions, for over a decade. The script was always the same, only the sets changed: useless husband, trouble with her son at school, neighbours stomping above like elephants, or the weather pressing on her temples. One thing was constant: Sarah was the unluckiest woman on earth, and the rest of us, me included, owed her endless sympathy, time and energy.
Sar, Ive really got to sort dinner; its burning, lets catch up later? I said, gently but firm.
Of course, youve got your dinner, your family, you dont have time for me… her voice immediately turned child-like and sulky. Never mind, go on. Ill just suffer through my migraine alone. I only wanted a word with my one real friend, but if youre too busy…
Then, just the dial tone. I set my phone on the table, feeling the weight slowly lift from my shoulders but a sticky guilt lingered, a guilt Sarah had always known just how to plant. I hadnt done anything wrong. I just wanted to feed my family, but felt like a traitor for it.
Tom poked his head around the kitchen door, eyeing my unfinished salad and the phone.
Was it Sarah again? It wasnt a question.
Who else? I nodded, dicing a limp cucumber. Shes in another state. Apparently, Michael didnt buy bread.
Dont you reckon all this dramas become a chronic condition with her? Tom came up and hugged me from behind. Youre always rattled after talking to her, headaches, out of sorts. Why are you putting up with it?
Because… weve been friends since school. After all those years, how could I abandon her when she needs help?
Shes been needing help for thirty years, Tom smirked. Funny how shes never around when its your turn.
I said nothing. He was right, but admitting it out loud at least felt like calling myself weak and foolish. I suppose I always thought being a good friend meant being an emotional sponge. Lately, though, it felt like a one-way game.
Wed been friends since year eight. Sarah was new, a timid girl with big, scared eyes. Id sort of adopted her, shielded her from teasing, helped her with homework. Then university, marriages, children, we drifted to different sides of town, but were tied by an unbreakable phone cord. Over the years, though, Id noticed: Sarah only rang when she wanted to unload.
Next weekend, Tom and I planned a trip to the cottage. It was glorious weather, the trees burning gold, an Indian summer at its best. I dreamt of reading on the veranda, tucked under a blanket, sipping thyme tea. But Friday evening, my phone lit up again.
Alice, youve got to help! Sarahs voice was full-blown panic. The bloody pipes burst in the bathroom, its flooding the neighbours, Michaels away on business, the plumber wont come Im losing my mind!
Turn off the water, quick! I snapped to crisis mode. There should be a valve near the main pipe.
I dont know where it is! Im scared! Its all boiling hot water everywhere! Alice, please come, Toms good with this stuff, hell sort it. Please, I cant bear it on my own!
I looked at our bags, packed and waiting in the hall, and at Tom, dreaming of an early morning fishing trip.
Tom… I started guiltily.
Heard the lot, he muttered. Lets go.
Three hours in Friday traffic. When we finally arrived, Sarahs biblical flood turned out to be a leaky joint under the sink with a washing up bowl catching drips. No steam, no gushing fountain.
Tom quietly rummaged for his tools, tightened the bolt in five minutes, wiped his hands.
Thats it, really he tried to be kind. The emergency plumber would have made do till morning, nothing drastic.
Oh Tom, you absolute star! Sarah clapped her hands, now freshly flushed, no trace of panic. What on earth would I do without you? Mines so useless, even if hed been here, hed have made it worse. Fancy a tea and cake? I picked up a Victoria sponge.
Weve got to dash to the cottage, Sar, I told her, weary. It’s late and the traffics a nightmare.
Always in a hurry, arent you, her lips wobbled in a pouty sulk. Here I am traumatised, wanted to have a cuppa with friends, relax, but you Fine, go on, happy folk. With your cottage, car, handy husband. Ill just rot here in the damp.
We drove in silence, tense and exhausted. We reached the cottage well after midnight, shattered. The next morning my head pounded. Not even thyme tea could cheer me.
A month passed. Something wonderful happened I was promoted at work! Id been working towards Head of Planning for so long, extra courses, side projects, and finally, it happened. The first person I wanted to tell, naturally, was Sarah.
Hi! Got a minute? I was nearly bouncing with excitement.
I suppose. Whats happened now?
Something good! Sar, I got promoted! Head of Planning! Bigger salary, my own office! Im thrilled, I cant believe it!
The silence on the line was long and heavy. I checked to see if wed lost connection.
Congratulations, Sarah finally said. She sounded like she was relaying news of a neighbours dead hamster. Some people have all the luck.
Its not luck, Sar, I faltered. Ive worked my socks off.
Havent we all? Were all slogging away. Some people get noticed, some just get walked over. I didnt sleep last night after my boss tore strips off me for no reason. Depressing, isnt it, Alice? Youll be rolling in it now, probably buy yourself a fur coat. Meanwhile, Ill look a right state in my old puffa.
My joy deflated like a punctured balloon. Suddenly, I felt almost apologetic for my success as if Id stolen it from poor Sarah.
Oh, come on… Dont be like that. Lets meet up Saturday, celebrate with a coffee and cake, my treat.
Coffee shop… Sarah sighed. Dont think I can, love. Im in no mood for jollity. My blood pressures shot, chest aches. Who can celebrate on tuppence? And its a sin to be jealous. You go off with Tom, you two are the local gentry now.
I hung up and cried. From frustration, from confusion. Why couldnt she just be happy for me? Why was every step forward an affront to her?
That Saturday Tom insisted we go out for dinner, just the two of us. Sensing how fragile I felt, he tried to distract me.
Forget about her, Al, he said, pouring some wine. Some people are emotional vampires. They feed off your trouble. When youre down, theyre there to sympathise, lapping up your misery. But your happiness? Thats poison to them. It highlights how little they do themselves.
But weve been friends so long… I said weakly.
And? Length of time never justifies being poison.
The breaking point came out of the blue. In November, I was floored with the flu. Fever touching forty, aching all over, hacking cough. I couldnt even make it to the kitchen for water. Tom was away on a job, back only in two days.
Between fever dreams, my phone rang. I fumbled it from my bedside table.
Alice, you home? Sarahs voice pitched between chirpy and anxious.
At home… Sarah, Im ill… really, really rough… I rasped. My throat was shredded.
Oh, dont be so dramatic, its just a cold. Anyway, listen. I need five hundred quid. Michael pranged the car, not badly, just a bumper, but the blokes making a fuss, wants cash now or hell call the police and everything will kick off. We havent got it, you know us. Lend me it? Youre in a proper job, you must have it. Ill pay you back in a month, two max.
I closed my eyes as everything spun.
Sarah, my temps nearly forty. I cant get up. Im alone. Im really unwell.
So do a transfer online! she snapped. Everythings on your phone now. Alice, honestly! Friend in need, and you go on about your temperature. Take some paracetamol and send the money. Im desperate here!
Something inside me snapped. It sounded sharp, definite, like the fuse blowing on a circuit.
No, I whispered.
What do you mean no? she barked.
No, I wont lend you the money. Not because I cant, because you didnt even ask if I needed help. Im alone, too ill to make myself tea, and all you care about is bailing out your husbands cock-up.
Youre being serious? her voice quivered with outrage. Over a cup of tea? Over some money? I thought we were friends! I thought you were a decent person! But now youre posh, youve got your new job and youre so above it all! Dumping your mates when they need you!
What you call trouble, I call consequences, I spoke with slow, painful effort, but every word brought relief. Im tired, Sarah. Tired of being your rubbish bin for complaints. Tired of sorting your problems, tired of feeling guilty that my lifes fine.
Oh, is that it?! Sarah screamed. Stuff your money! Stuff your happiness! Lets see who you crawl to when your precious Tom leaves or youre out of work! Remember who was here for you too late now! Selfish cow!
I pressed end call. After a heartbeat, I blocked her number, then all her messages, socials, everything.
The silence in the flat was changed. Not empty and scary, but healing, calming. For the first time in years, I slept a deep, dreamless sleep.
Tom came home early, having cut short his job when he couldnt get through to me. He nursed me, made broth, fussed as much as Id let him. A week later, I was up and about. Still weak, but lighter somehow. The burden was gone.
Six months went by. Gradually, my life changed entirely. I suddenly had endless free evenings. All those hours Id spent listening to Sarahs endless tales of woe were now mine. I took up yoga, started Italian lessons, went to the theatre more with Tom.
All the energy I once poured into her bottomless pit stayed with me, demanding to be turned into creativity and joy. My headaches vanished.
One bright spring day, wandering through the shopping centre, I quite literally ran into Sarah. She looked dreadful dull eyes, slumped, faded clothes. Caught sight of me, beaming, in my new coat with shining eyes, and stopped dead.
Oh, look at you, blooming, she muttered, voice laced with accusation. No sign of a guilty conscience?
I stared back, calm, unafraid of hurting her or being called cold.
Hello, Sarah. No, Im not guilty I feel great.
Well, for your information, Michaels been made redundant, my mums sick, the banks on our case. I honestly thought you might ring, check up on me… After all those years. You cant just cut people off.
She gazed at me, aiming for the weak spot, that guilt button that had worked flawlessly before. But it was broken now.
Im sorry youre struggling, I said, sincerely. Really, I am. But I cant help you anymore. We make our own choices, Sarah, about what kind of life to live full of complaints, or putting things right.
Well, arent you just heartless? she spat. Money changes people!
No, I smiled, genuinely. Ive just learned to value myself. Goodbye.
I turned away, heels clicking along the polished tiles. I felt her heavy, jealous gaze behind me, but it didnt drag me down any more. I never once considered turning back.
Later, I told Tom about it.
How did you feel? Tom asked.
Honestly… nothing, I said after thinking. No anger, no sadness. Just like bumping into someone from an old job we just dont walk the same way anymore. What a relief.
Im proud of you, he kissed my forehead. Its about time you put yourself first.
I stood at the window, watching the lights of the evening city. Life outside was vast, messy, rich but, for once, it felt wonderful. To give it all up to be a container for someone elses toxicity was a crime against myself.
My phone pinged. A colleague was inviting me to an exhibition. I smiled. My world was now filled with people who shared ideas, joy, plans never just gripes and grudges. This was life on an entirely different level.
Sometimes, to fill a vessel with fresh water, you have to pour out the stagnant first. Thats what Id done, and I could finally breathe. Id learned something crucial: friendship is about sharing warmth, support, joy. If its just you giving, and all you get back is darkness, its not friendship. Its parasitism. And the only cure is to cut it out. Painful, frightening but vital to survive.
I value myself now. And I wish it hadnt taken me thirty years to do so.
