‘OK,’ nods Ash. ‘So we won’t say that. We’ll eat some nice food, and have early nights, and swim in this pool, and we’ll go gently, OK? Talk about it, not talk about it, whatever you want.’
Willow nods, slowly, mulling this over. ‘Thank you,’ she says, and then she’s crying, just a little bit, and apologising for crying, and Ash is getting up to go hug her, welling up herself because her best friend is in pain. Maybe all love ends in tears, she thinks. Maybe CJ has it right, keeping her heart locked away like she does, protecting it.
The thing is, Ash just can’t believe that’s true. The heart is like any other muscle, if you don’t use it then it atrophies. Themoreyou use it, the stronger it gets. That’s what she wants for Willow: to know that she will find love again, and a lovethat is worthy of her. That’s all she wants for herself. What choice does she have except to keep believing? Keep hoping? The alternative just isn’t an option.
There’s no time better spent than with a best girlfriend, by a hotel pool, drinks in hand. Ash and Willow alternate between poolside and pool swimming, floating on their backs like starfish or side by side at the edge, legs kicking, arms supporting them, chatting ten to the dozen. Ash is true to her word and doesn’t press on the tender bruise of Willow’s marriage, instead telling her more about Mona, about what she’s seen and done, all the little Portuguese titbits of information she’s picked up that she wouldn’t know from a simple flying visit: the coffee culture, how late everyone seems to eat, the pace of life here and how it bleeds into everything.
‘I definitely recognise the urgency I’ve been doing everything with,’ Ash explains, balancing herself horizontal by her neck on the pool edge, face upturned to the late afternoon sun. ‘I operate on a day-to-day basis like my arse is on fire at home, and I honestly couldn’t tell you why.’
‘I just thought that’s what made you happy,’ Willow says, lifting a leg to admire it. ‘I thought you were just wired to always bego, go, go. You’ve been that way as long as I’ve known you.’
‘I think I’ve been busy because it feels useful to be busy,’ Ash says. ‘Not to be dramatic but … well, piling it all into my day, having everything scheduled, it felt like purpose, I suppose. But then, strip all that away and it turns out I’m still worthy.’
‘You’re so worthy!’ says Willow. ‘Ash!’
‘I know, I know. But what we see in each other isn’t always what we see in ourselves, is it?’
Willow sighs. ‘Urgh. Too true.’
Ash looks at her from the corner of her eye and waits.
‘I’m going to leave him,’ Willow says.
‘I thought so,’ Ash says. ‘Are you … OK?’
‘No.’
‘No,’ agrees Ash. ‘No, of course not.’ They float. Eventually Ash says, ‘I wish you could have met my friend Mona. I know we all tell each other that there are a million different ways to live a life, but it’s not until you see somebody doing it, especially somebody older who hasbeendoing it, who really is all right, that it truly feels possible. We all have the ability to light the way for one another.’
Willow nods, doesn’t say anything else. Ash senses that she can’t because she will cry. She reaches out a hand for her friend’s and squeezes it. Willow squeezes back.
After a while, Willow says, ‘It’s helped me, seeing you here, seeing how different you are. You’re lighting the way for me already.’
‘What?!’ says Ash. ‘No! I’ve just been flouncing around. And I’m still all talk. Let’s see if I can hold on to this inner Zen when I’m back, shall we?’
‘You will,’ says Willow. ‘Some changes can’t be undone.’
Ash pulls a face. ‘True. Maybe.’
When they’re out, lying on sunloungers with thick, matching stripy towels, Ash decides that one of the changes she has most deeply encountered really is that she is worthy, that sheis enough, and that she is no longer a woman who sits around waiting to be chosen – or worse, not sits around waiting but actively tries to convince somebody to love her, to want her, to choose her. And so, with CJ, she feels it is best to bite the bullet, to draw a line under it for the sake of clarity. After their fight CJ actually texted a message, short and sweet:
Hey. I’m so sorry for this morning. Can we talk when you’re back? Or even in a few days? Or whenever you’re ready? Xx
Of course Ash ignored it, because that’s allowed: she didn’t know what she wanted to say. But now she does. As Willow throws on a linen shirt and goes in search of the loo, Ash finds a shady spot and types into her screen:
Hey. Last week got a little out of hand. I was just thrown, and obviously hadn’t slept much either. Let’s not have a big chat or anything, it’s not necessary. I’m in Porto now. Once I’m back I’ll only be here a couple more weeks – this time has flown! – and I’d just like to enjoy them, no drama. I’m not sorry about what happened, but forwards movement only. If it’s OK, I’d prefer it if you didn’t text me again whilst I’m away. I’d really just like to be present for my best friend. See you when I’m back, I hope. Ash x
She rereads it, and then hits Send before she can change her mind. Not that she would: it feels grown-up and self-possessed to say what she needs and draw a boundary for herself. In fact, she’d go so far as to say that she is inordinately proud of herself. Forwards movement only, indeed.
33
CJ
CJ feels cold all over when the text comes through. Truly nauseous. Everything with Ash is such a fuck-up on her part, so needlessly dramatic. By the time Luis finds her at work, phone still in hand, disbelieving, she is so furious with herself that she barely makes sense. As soon as he is able to, he marches her back home and calls an emergency meeting with Miguel and Todd, opening the intervention with: ‘CJ is about to blow up the best chance she’s had at happiness in the entire time I’ve known her. Can we fix this?’
Miguel and Todd immediately leap into a role they play so well: empathetic, probing, merciless.
‘Oh my god,’ CJ says, as the three men collectively hold their breath so that she can read the missive aloud to them. ‘She hates me. This is all Ash speak for like,I hope you die in a ditch and it hurts.’
