A Friend
You Look So Defeated
Within minutes, Hanna was at my front door. As I answered, I was pulling on a jumper. Hanna scowled at me.
“Why aren’t you ready?” she moaned. I made a face, and decided against arguing, as I would never win. I deftly tied my trainers – too scuffed and in need of a good wash – and we left.
As we walked, I could only hear our footsteps, smacking hard down onto the newly replaced pavement all the way down my road. The smacks of our feet echoed across the road, and we could still hear them even after we had left the opening to my road. I thought about this for a while, until I realized Hanna was talking.
“It’s about him isn’t it?” Hanna glanced at me, silently asking for my agreement. I nodded. We were silent for a second, and then I spoke.
“It was always about him. And we, we were useless. We told her to get rid of him, that he was a liar. But she loved him didn’t she. She still does,” I finished, shrugging my shoulders.
We both knew that was true.
Jamie and Will had dated for the best part of three years. It had been off and on, but everyone knew they would get back together in the end. And they did. They always did. Jamie was creative, fashion conscious and a perfectionist. Will was egotistical, funny and a perfectionist. They were made for each other; everyone and anyone could see it.
Hanna, Jamie and me had been best friends for years. It was on our school trip, we must have been about thirteen, when Jamie and Will first became an item. They became the most renowned couple in school.
They looked good together.
They were perfectly suited.
He was in love with her.
She was crazy about him.
On the way to Jamie’s house (for that was where Hanna and I were headed), we talked about those years, and everything that went with them. A few years ago, I was a keen photographer, I took pictures of everything. Hanna, Jamie, Will, some other friends and myself met up on a daily basis, and I would take all of our pictures. Usually, however, I would take pictures of Will and Jamie. Will was photogenic, no doubt about it. Jamie was, but not in the same way. However, I have this one picture of the two of them, they are entwined, Jamie is leaning back and Will is holding her. They are kissing. ‘A Caricature of Intimacy’ she may have called it (being so in love with Panic! At the Disco). It’s my proudest picture, and it reminds me of the time when they were very much in love.
Oh, in love they were. We all wanted to be like Jamie and Will. Some of us tried, I defiantly did, but we never had what they had.
That is, until everything changed.
We rounded the last corner, and soon we were outside Jamie’s house.
“It looks like she’s come back,” I whispered to Hanna as we climbed up the stone steps towards the front door, which was swinging open.
“Yeah,” Hanna said, “We going in?”
“We’d better,” I replied and pushed the door open. We could hear Jamie’s stifled sobs all the way downstairs. We both mounted the stairs, walked silently along to her room, along the familiar light cream carpet, and along the yellow walls. Her door was open.
Jamie was lying on her bed, her new bed, crying. There was a single pillow underneath her single head. There was no space for anyone else. I think, in fact, I know this was deliberate. Will was no longer in her life.
She looked so defeated lying there in her new twin sized bed.
“Why aren’t you ready?” she moaned. I made a face, and decided against arguing, as I would never win. I deftly tied my trainers – too scuffed and in need of a good wash – and we left.
As we walked, I could only hear our footsteps, smacking hard down onto the newly replaced pavement all the way down my road. The smacks of our feet echoed across the road, and we could still hear them even after we had left the opening to my road. I thought about this for a while, until I realized Hanna was talking.
“It’s about him isn’t it?” Hanna glanced at me, silently asking for my agreement. I nodded. We were silent for a second, and then I spoke.
“It was always about him. And we, we were useless. We told her to get rid of him, that he was a liar. But she loved him didn’t she. She still does,” I finished, shrugging my shoulders.
We both knew that was true.
Jamie and Will had dated for the best part of three years. It had been off and on, but everyone knew they would get back together in the end. And they did. They always did. Jamie was creative, fashion conscious and a perfectionist. Will was egotistical, funny and a perfectionist. They were made for each other; everyone and anyone could see it.
Hanna, Jamie and me had been best friends for years. It was on our school trip, we must have been about thirteen, when Jamie and Will first became an item. They became the most renowned couple in school.
They looked good together.
They were perfectly suited.
He was in love with her.
She was crazy about him.
On the way to Jamie’s house (for that was where Hanna and I were headed), we talked about those years, and everything that went with them. A few years ago, I was a keen photographer, I took pictures of everything. Hanna, Jamie, Will, some other friends and myself met up on a daily basis, and I would take all of our pictures. Usually, however, I would take pictures of Will and Jamie. Will was photogenic, no doubt about it. Jamie was, but not in the same way. However, I have this one picture of the two of them, they are entwined, Jamie is leaning back and Will is holding her. They are kissing. ‘A Caricature of Intimacy’ she may have called it (being so in love with Panic! At the Disco). It’s my proudest picture, and it reminds me of the time when they were very much in love.
Oh, in love they were. We all wanted to be like Jamie and Will. Some of us tried, I defiantly did, but we never had what they had.
That is, until everything changed.
We rounded the last corner, and soon we were outside Jamie’s house.
“It looks like she’s come back,” I whispered to Hanna as we climbed up the stone steps towards the front door, which was swinging open.
“Yeah,” Hanna said, “We going in?”
“We’d better,” I replied and pushed the door open. We could hear Jamie’s stifled sobs all the way downstairs. We both mounted the stairs, walked silently along to her room, along the familiar light cream carpet, and along the yellow walls. Her door was open.
Jamie was lying on her bed, her new bed, crying. There was a single pillow underneath her single head. There was no space for anyone else. I think, in fact, I know this was deliberate. Will was no longer in her life.
She looked so defeated lying there in her new twin sized bed.