You, Me and Other People. Fionnuala Kearney

of?’ she challenges.

      Everything, I realize, I am afraid of everything.

      When I arrive home, there’s a familiar car in the driveway and Karen is sitting on my doorstep with a large bunch of yolk-yellow gerbera daisies, my favourite flowers, and a bottle of orange label bubbles. Her face is raised to the morning sun.

      I hug her. ‘It’s ten a.m. Why aren’t you in work?’

      ‘I work for myself; took a few hours off, figured you might need this?’ She waves the bottle as I unlock the front door.

      ‘It’s ten a.m.,’ I repeat, smiling.

      ‘So what? It’s a half-bottle and I brought orange juice too if you want to spoil the taste.’ Her nose wrinkles, a pout that says she couldn’t imagine anything worse. I reach out and hug her again, whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ into her ear. In that moment, I’m so grateful to have her. Her antennae twitch whenever I need her. As if to prove the point, when we reach the kitchen, she whips out some fresh bagels filled with salmon and cream cheese from a tiny cool bag in her titan handbag.

      ‘You need to eat something healthy,’ she says as she pours champagne. The irony is lost and we munch, talk and drink, or at least she munches and I talk and drink. Occasionally, she just shakes her head. I tell her about this morning’s session with Dr Gothenburg.

      ‘Well?’ she says, creasing her brow, ‘What are you afraid of?’

      I hesitate, but just for a moment, before the tears fall. ‘I’m constantly afraid.’

      She pushes the already empty glasses aside and reaches for my hand. ‘Go on.’

      ‘Being alone … taking him back and not trusting him; something happening to Meg; being with someone else … I’m not sure I could.’

      ‘Pah,’ she splutters, as she stands up and heads towards the sink. ‘If it comes to that,’ she shakes the kettle then flicks the switch, ‘believe me – a cock is a cock is a cock.’

      I shudder and she laughs.

      ‘The devil, witches and aliens,’ I continue, counting out my fears on my fingers.

      ‘Be serious.’

      ‘I am, Karen, I really am.’

      Her bottom lip protrudes. ‘I see.’

      ‘Losing it someday.’ I raise my eyebrows.

      ‘Losing what?’

      ‘My temper … control … I feel if I show the world how angry I actually am, that I’d be locked up and the key thrown away.’

      ‘I’ll buy you a punchbag. Next?’

      ‘I worry about Meg, what this is going to do to her. She worships her father.’

      ‘Meg will be fine. She’s young and strong and she’s got too much of you in her to let this defeat her.’

      ‘It won’t defeat her, but it might shape how she views men.’

      ‘Rubbish.’

      ‘Getting cancer,’ I add. ‘What if pentapeptides are found to be carcinogenic? What if I like my alcohol too much? What if my father’s genes take over?’

      ‘And what if you’re overreacting?’

      I ignore her. ‘Oh, and the dark and deep water and air travel and wait … I’ve apparently got an inner saboteur.’

      Karen’s quiet. She hovers by the boiled kettle, deep in thought, so I get up, usher her back to her stool and make two mugs of steaming Earl Grey.

      Her hands straddle her cup. ‘I saw him last week.’

      ‘You did?’ The mood in the room shifts.

      ‘He owed me money and I went to collect a cheque. He looks like shit.’

      ‘Yeah well, he’s screwing some waitress. He deserves to look like shit.’ I take a seat opposite her.

      ‘She’s not a waitress. He told me that she part-owns the restaurant.’

      ‘She does? Well, I couldn’t give a shit if she whole-owns the restaurant. I don’t give a rat’s arse if she whole-owns a chain of restaurants. She’s a husband-stealing bitch.’

      Karen laughs.

      ‘Did he ask about me?’ I’m not sure why I want to know. I just do.

      ‘Of course. He wants to know if I’ll speak to you on his behalf. I told him to go screw himself. Smug bastard … Enough about him!’ She suddenly slaps a hand on the breakfast bar and I flinch. ‘What about if I come down next weekend?’ she says. ‘We could have a takeaway and sleepover, maybe go out to a wine bar. I’m not sure you’re ready yet, but maybe if you pulled someone, you know, just a snog—’

      I groan out loud and lay my head in my hands.

      ‘I was talking a quick snog, not a frigging wedding.’

      ‘You know what? I’m bored. Let’s talk about your love life.’

      ‘Hmmm …’ Karen replies. ‘Nothing new to report except a decision.’

      I raise my head and my eyebrows.

      ‘I’ve decided,’ she continues, ‘that I need an older man. A solvent, older, mature, loving man.’

      I smile. ‘Good decision. You do know that means a man in his forties.’

      Karen sticks her tongue out, ignoring my jibe about the fact that she’s forty this year.

      ‘Anyhow, now you and I can go on the pull together.’

      ‘That’s not going to happen.’ I cannot imagine anything worse in the world right now.

      ‘Never say never.’

      ‘I’m saying never.’

      ‘Really?’ She pours me another glass, ignores her own. ‘C’mon, Beth, feel the fear and do it anyway! Never is an awfully long time. Take it from me. You’ll need a snog. And soon.’ She adds the last two words as if my very life will depend on me swapping saliva. Soon.

      I shudder visibly, catch her eye and we both hoot.

      Painful belly laughs later, somehow we’re back to discussing more of my inner fears when she glances at her watch and makes a face. ‘Sorry, I’ve really got to go.’ She comes to hug me.

      ‘Relying on my “rampant rabbit” for sex?’ I offer as a parting shot.

      She puts her coat on in the hall. ‘Sounds like my life. Be afraid,’ she says gravely, ‘be very afraid …’ And just as I think she’s out of the door, she stops, narrows her eyes and points to the wall with a questioning tilt of her head.

      ‘Oh, yeah.’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘That. I’m redecorating. What do you think of the colour?’

      She reads the words, a hint of a smile appearing on her full lips.

      ‘The colour’s bloody awful,’ she says finally. ‘And is “dastard” a real word?’

      Later that day, when I’m upstairs working in the loft, my stomach flips when I check my emails.

      -----Original Message-----

      From: ahall@hall&fryuk.net

      Sent: 23 September 2014 15:37 PM

      To: [email protected]

      Subject: You (and me)

      Hi,

      I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear from now but I really feel the need to talk to you. I hope you’re okay. I’m okay. I’m thinking of you. I miss you. A x

      Stomach still playing leapfrog,