WriteInvite.co.uk - Short Story Competitions

Over

by Lou Treleaven

The 8th May 2010 WriteOnSite Winning Entry

"Get me another beer from the fridge, would you? I'm parched!" he calls.

I open the fridge door. Bottles of beer and half opened junk food jostle for space. A dirty puddle of old food and spilled alcohol congeals at the bottom. For a moment I stand, letting the frigid air cool my body, closing my eyes. But when I finally return with the beer and a bowl of crisps, I'm still hot. Hot and irritable. I shove the bowl at him and slump down on the saggy sofa. The crowd on the television jeer as a player takes a dive and I sigh loudly, sickened by the playacting.

He glances at me and looks cross. "You don't have to watch it, you know," he says. "I told you, you should have gone round a mate's place. Had a girly night or something."

A mate. I thought husbands were supposed to be mates. Pairs. Bonded for life. But a husband, I'm finding, isn't the same as a friend. I can't moan to him about my period being late, or how all men are boy racers, or about my mother-in-law telling me I don't know how to cook a Sunday roast. I need someone else. I need a friend.

I need her.

Sandy, my best friend. My playmate from school, who formed a longlasting bond with me just by pulling my ponytail ribbon out and running off with it when we were six. My friend who always asked me to her parties, even when the other girls were teasing me for wearing thick glasses. My friend who showed me how to look after my skin when I got teenage acne, who gave me makeovers when she became a beautician, who transformed me from a geeky teenager into a confident, attractive woman. My friend, my wonderful friend, who deserved happiness and for a while had it, with the man she said was the most wonderful boyfriend in the world.

I didn't mean to fall in love with him. It came out of nowhere, like a bullet into my heart. It hurt, actually hurt, when I saw him, and the first time he touched me I shook with nerves, excitement, fear and passion. And every time I betrayed her I knew it was wrong.

It was hard for a few months after we were found out, really hard, but when we got engaged he said she'd probably come to terms with it by now and didn't our marriage mean we were meant for each other from the start? He even encouraged me to ask her to be my bridesmaid. I couldn't understand at the time why she said no - I thought she was the forgiving type. She'd always been so perfect, to me.

I haven't seen her for five years. And I haven't found another friend. Nobody measures up. Nobody's good enough for me, he jokes. He's right. Nobody's good enough.

I watch him as he sits up suddenly, yelling obscenties at the screen. We used to think it was funny the way he talked to the television, the way his passion for the game burst out of him. We used to love him, Sandy and me. But now I know what it's cost me, and as the game ends and he walks out in disgust, I think, yes, it's over. It's all over now.