The Aftermath by Gail Schimmel (books to read in a lifetime txt) 📗

she never saw me alone any more. I tried to meet her for coffee occasionally, but it just felt stupid being there when I could be with Mike, and our arrangements fizzled out.

We didn’t really care about the friends we lost. We told each other they couldn’t have been such good friends in the first place if they were so happy to end the friendship. And the truth was that we were entirely happy just in each other’s company. It was enough. The friends we did keep were a bonus.

People said it would change when we had a baby. But they were wrong. When our baby came, we realised we really were different. We still loved being together – and we loved our little family. We were the real deal. The ones who would actually live happily ever after.

The Accident changed everything.

The thing is, by then we were friends only with people who wanted to be friends with Mike-and-Helen Blake, the loved-up couple. After The Accident, I needed friends who wanted to be friends with Just Helen.

I’m not saying people didn’t try, that people weren’t good to me. They all visited in hospital and told me to be strong and that they were there for me, and they did things like offer to look after Julia and bring meals and all the things you are supposed to do. And when I first came home, and later when Julia and I started our new lives, just the two of us, they visited. They invited us. They tried.

But we weren’t Mike-and-Helen any more, and I was barely even Helen. I was the shadow of a person who had once been alive, and Julia was a traumatised two-year-old. I had very little inside me to give, and what I had, I gave to Julia. The rest of the world was covered in dark shadows. Slowly but surely, most of our friends dropped away. I suppose I should have made new friends, people at the school, parents of Julia’s friends. But I just didn’t have the energy.

I had one friend for a while after The Accident. The most unlikely friend. But I lost her too.

I don’t really mind – I don’t like being with people much. It’s very tiring. You have to pretend to be interested, and you have to act like someone who is okay. When Julia was that age when I had to go along to the parties, I found it exhausting. I’d have to sleep for hours afterwards. Julia was probably the first girl in her class whose mum just dropped her at the house. I don’t think either of us minded. I felt like the other mums judged me a bit. ‘Sure you won’t stay?’ they’d ask. And, ‘Wow, she’s so brave to let you leave at this age.’ But to be honest, it’s not like Julia was missing much. And I was always willing to take her and fetch her. But I didn’t make friends with the other mums. They were nice enough; I have only myself to blame.

Now, sometimes, I wish I had a friend. Someone I could phone and tell how excited I am about Julia’s news. And we could speculate about what it is, if it’s what I’m hoping for. And this friend of mine would come up with some ideas, and we’d enjoy the excitement together.

Except that if I had a real friend, she would want to know why I am so uncharacteristically excited. And if she was a real friend, she would be upset to learn that I’m hoping Julia’s news brings me closer to suicide.

No, a real friend might prove an impediment. So it is probably better that I don’t have friends.

TUESDAY

Claire

Mackenzie’s teacher’s face today is all sympathy and understanding, and again I want to kill Daniel for sending Julia to school yesterday, and Julia for telling Mrs Wood who she is. I could not believe it when I got the call: ‘There’s a woman here claiming to be Daniel’s girlfriend . . . ?’ And I had to swallow my pride and say, ‘Yes, she can take Mackenzie.’

‘Oh.’ Mrs Wood’s voice was so heavy with questions my phone almost fell out of my hand, but I bit my cheeks and I refused to say more. ‘All good then.’

And Mackenzie was made to go home with Julia.

Today all those questions are jostling for a place on Mrs Wood’s face and I want to punch her, but instead I smile and say, ‘Lovely weather we’re having.’

Mrs Wood puts her hand on my arm and pulls me to the side. ‘Claire,’ she says, ‘it’s none of my business what’s going on at home, but it is important for us to know when there’s a major change or disruption to a child’s life, so that we can manage it from school.’

I close my eyes for a moment, because I know she’s actually right.

‘You’re right,’ I say, but I don’t offer any more. She waits a few beats for me to carry on, to spill out my heart. But I just stand there smiling.

‘Okay then,’ she says. And I can see that not only have I failed to tell her what is going on, but I’ve also offended her. She wanted to be the one who got it first hand. She wanted to be the one to tell them in the staff-room, and cluck to the other mothers in muted tones. I know her type. I also know they make dangerous enemies.

‘It’s hard for me to talk about,’ I say, touching her arm. ‘I’ll send you an email with all the important information that affects Mackenzie. I’m sure I can count on your discretion.’ I squeeze her arm so she feels she’s important.

And now she’s glowing and I add a mental note to the medley in my head to send the bloody email.

I walk to my car and Janice intercepts me. ‘Thanks for coming to the lunch yesterday,’ she says, kissing my cheek.

‘It was fabulous,’