“How did I not know that?” I needed to start paying more attention to the world around me.
“You’re always preoccupied at work. I assumed you knew.”
I didn’t know how I felt about it, but there was a burning in my chest. Was it jealousy? Beth leaned her head againstmy shoulder.
“Are they dating? I thought Ashleigh was straight?”
“She is straight; they’re just good friends as far as I’m aware.” Paula paused. “I like Francesca. You should try and rekindle things with her.”
If only it was that easy. I’d been tempted ever since my birthday. The truth was, I liked her too, but I couldn’t create the space she deserved in my head or my heart, at least not yet.
“You’ve said this to me at least once a month since my thirtieth birthday party.”
“That’s because you’re an idiot, and I like to remind you how foolish you can be sometimes. There’s a gorgeous Italian woman with no baggage, a banging body, and an accent that could make me turn gay, and you are pining after a stuck-up daddy’s girl with serious identity issues.”
Silence.
Beth gasped.
“Harsh, Paula,” I replied.
“It’s true,” Paula said. “I’m not saying Brooke couldn’t change my opinion, but I like Francesca a lot, and I think she could be good for you.”
Paula wasn’t the only one; Beth nodded in agreement. I thought Francesca would be good for me too. I didn’t deny that. Kale was good for me, but that didn’t mean I wanted to have it with every meal because unless it’s seasoned it tastes like crap. It was a bad analogy, comparing Francesca to a vegetable, but there had to be something more than the initial attraction. I was trying to be considerate of her feelings.
“This has been a lot for me to digest at 4 a.m. I’ve woken Beth up. She will punish me for that tomorrow.” Beth nodded again. “When I get back to sleep, I’m going to have some weird dream about Danielle and Francesca having a child together. It’ll come out looking like me. That’s going to ruin mywhole day.”
“Very specific.” Paula chuckled.
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure, sleep well girls.Goodnight.”
Beth joined in with a joint goodnight.
I launched the phone into the cushions on the floor and shuffled down into a more comfortable position. Beth snuggled in beside me. The pineapple themed eye mask had already been lowered.
“Can we go to sleep now?” she muttered.
“Sure, sorry forwaking you.”
*
The intention to sleep was there, but it never transpired. When Beth began to stir at 7:30 a.m. I’d been awake for three hours digesting the information. The easy part was being happy for Danielle, we didn’t speak anymore, her choice not mine, but I understood her reasoning. All I wanted was the best for her.
After careful self-reflection in the months after Brooke left, I realised I’d perceived my relationship with Danielle inaccurately. In my mind, I’d fought for what we had. I tried to make her happy despite my feelings changing over time, but all I’d done was communicate poorly and continue to do whatever made me happy, whether Danielle agreed or not. In short, I was a bit of an ass. It wasn’t always like that, at least I didn’t think it was. We were happy at one time, but I lost my way and became quite selfish inmy approach.
Point being, the self-reflection helped.
I sent Danielle a letter apologising for the way I handled the end of our relationship. My lack of compassion was cruel. I’d been so focused on my own emotions and the feelings I felt for someone else. I thought “doing the right thing” was ending my relationship with Danielle and moving on quick and sharp. I even told myself it was to “save her pain”, but that wasn’t true. In reality I was selfish. I was inconsiderate, and I wished wholeheartedly I could go back and do it over again. Danielle never responded to my letter, but she told her mum to tell my mum she appreciated me reaching out—thatwas enough.
A small part of me was jealous. She’d fallen in love with someone new, someone who wanted the things she did, a family and marriage, and here I was snuggled up to my snoring best friend in a two-bed apartment in Tokyo with absolutely no grip on my life. My job was the only consistent thing I had, and that could all go away with one wrong move, or one violation of bar association rules. One misjudgement resulting in moral turpitude could get me disbarred. Then my professional future as well as my romantic future would go up in flames. I tried not to dwell on that too much.
Then there was Francesca: beautiful, graceful, sweet Francesca. Morally I was doing the right thing by not calling her. I was avoiding a complicated entanglement while hoping and praying my feelings for Brooke would change, allowing me to pursue something deeper and more meaningful with Francesca. The woman walked around London like she’d stepped directly off the catwalk. I knew she got hit on daily, probably five times a day, and one of these days she was going to accept an invitation. And twelve months later, she too would be married with children, and I’d still be all alone.
I didn’t like that thought.
“I am doing the right thing, aren’t I?” Beth’s head flopped to the side as I jumped out of bed and began to pace.
