I sleep on the sofa while Ollie snores on my bed, fully passed out. It didn’t feel right to sleep beside him, despite us doing it all the time as kids. As soon as we grew up a bit, there was never a need, because our houses were next door to each other. Now our bedrooms are hundreds of miles apart.
I wake up, my eyes stinging and dry, my mouth feeling rancid. I go upstairs to the bathroom, brush my teeth, splash some water on my face, take a few deep breaths and then head downstairs again.
Ollie is sitting at the kitchen table. Two mugs of coffee in front of him. I feel a rush of feelings when I see him. Annoyance mostly about last night, but also a bit of concern, considering the state he was in.
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘How are you feeling?’ I say, sitting opposite him. I take the coffee, not meeting his eyes.
‘Like I’ve been hit over the head. And then run over by a truck.’
I shake my head, finally looking up at him. ‘What’s happened to you? You used to be so serious.’
He looks wryly out of the kitchen window, into the garden.
‘I was, wasn’t I? And I was a serious kid. I always made us follow every rule of the games we had.’
‘Playing Monopoly with you as the banker was a nightmare!’
‘That’s because you tried to rob the bank.’
I shrug. ‘I was low on money.’ I know I sound distant, but honestly, I don’t want to talk to him. I just want him to leave, and I can have my memories of my friend I used to have.
‘Selena,’ he says, hesitating. ‘I shouldn’t have said the things I said last night. I think I came across . . . more callous than I wanted. But you have to know, I think the world of you.’ He touches my hand.
I look into his eyes, and I know he’s not lying. He does love me, as a friend. But he doesn’t know me. Not in the ways that reallymatter. And the way he sees me – well, I know that’s not me.
I hesitate, but I have to say it. ‘What you said last night, about me having no ambition? It was hurtful, Ollie.’ I rush out my words, knowing once I say it, I can’t take it back. I have never told anyone they’ve hurt me before. Let alone Ollie.
He looks at me and blinks. Then he says, ‘I’m sorry, Selena.’
‘It’s okay,’ I say, and I mean it. ‘We see things differently too. More differently than I’d realised, maybe. I think we might have been changing for a while now and we’ve not really seen it. On both sides. I think there’s a side to you I didn’t see before, and there might be other sides to me you haven’t seen either. It doesn’t mean they’re not there.’ And as soon as I say it out loud, I realise it’s true, and it’s kind of a relief to admit it.
He looks thoughtful. ‘I see what you mean. We’ve always been around each other, so it’s easy to hold on to the people we were. And maybe that’s not fair on either of us.’ He gives me a smile, one that used to melt me, but now feels ordinary. ‘I’m excited to see the person you become too.’
And although I’m sad for the Ollie I’ve lost, I feel relieved to have said what I think and be heard. ‘Thanks, Ollie.’
He looks at his phone. ‘I’ve got to get my train. Say hi to your mum for me?’
‘And say hi to yours for me,’ I say, opening my arms into a hug. He may not have been the person I thought he was, but he’s still my friend.
And at the rate I’m currently losing them, I should hold on to that.
***
I feel quietly optimistic that I’ve erased every part of the party and Mum won’t know what happened. Soon after Ollie leaves,she comes home in a good mood, all zen and relaxed after the spa.
I’m getting ready to go to lunch, when I hear her scream from downstairs, ‘Selena!’
I don’t think I’ve ever heard Mum yell. She’s been short. She’s definitely been angry. But I’ve never heard her raise her voice. Even as a child I don’t remember a time when she yelled at me.
‘Selena, why has the inside of my vase been bleached?’
Oh shit. She shows me the inside, and, yup, it’s pretty discoloured. Then I see some bleach fingerprint marks on the outside of it. That’s what must have given me away.
I’m silent. I don’t know what to say. Tori’s boyfriend chugged a bottle of wine and threw up in it? It may be true, but it doesn’t sound good.
‘Selena,’ says Mum, now shaking. ‘This is anantique. Not only that, this is something . . . something so important to me. It’s a reminder of who I once was, of how far I’ve come. You know the story of this vase. So I’m asking you to explain to me truthfully – what happened?’
