In Another Life

‘txt me bck ASAP’

I pause midstride down the busy London street and frown. Jeanette had called me twice already, and this was her sixth SMS message of the day. Even though she knew plainly enough that I was at work, and unable to get to my mobile.

‘what’s up?’

I type as I walk, weaving skillfully through the crowd and doing my best to avoid the puddles from yesterday’s rain. Quite honestly, I’m not so sure that I can handle Jeanette’s dramatics today. I’ve had a hard day at work, and all I really want is a few quiet hours to myself.

As I walk briskly from the station, I glance up at the sky. It looks as though the rain couldn’t hold off for an entire 24 hours. Already the clouds are gathering in the west, and the very air seems to be full of static and charge. Spurned on at the thought of retiring early tonight, I hasten my footsteps towards home.

My mobile remains quiet for the rest of my walk home, and I can only assume that Jeanette has lost interest in our conversation. Or she’s found something else to occupy her attention. Either one of these scenarios are entirely too plausible for my friend.

So when I pull out my set of keys to unlock the front door and round the corner, I’m surprised to see Jeanette standing on the stoop in her bare feet with her arms wrapped around her swollen, distended stomach absentmindedly.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask, stopping short and staring at her. “Are you okay?”

She nods, flapping her hands about excitedly. “I’m fine! It came, Bryn.”

“What are you going on about?” I ask as I walk forward and herd her back indoors. “What’s here?”

“Your package,” Jeanette flings over her shoulder as she waddles towards the kitchen.

I freeze in the middle of removing my shoes as her words slowly fall into place. My mind is moving sluggishly as I eventually comprehend what she’s been going on about all day.

My package is here!

Without looking, I drop my bag to the ground and throw my keys in the general direction of the table before I rush towards the kitchen where I can already hear Jeanette rummaging through the drawers.

Nearly a month ago, whilst prowling through several American designer stores online, I’d fallen in love with a pair of shoes. They were Dolce and Gabbana, so of course they cost an absolute bomb. I didn’t even want to convert the dollars into pounds, because the sheer size of the price tag frightened me that badly.

And so I had bemoaned my lack of funds, and proceeded to show all of my friends my find. They’d all agreed that the boots were phenomenal, and they’d been sympathetic towards my plight. I’d bookmarked the link, intending to drool over my shoes at a later date and then promptly forgot all about them.

But then one day at work, I’d been browsing our warehouse inventory for a cocktail gown for a client and I’d stumbled upon a pair of my shoes. They were marked down at a reduced price because they’d already been worn. Still, the asking price had me apprehensive, and I’d put the shoes firmly out of mind. The holidays were coming up, and I was saving up to buy presents. But still, I’d placed the shoes on a price watch. Just in case.

And then as luck would have it, the shoes were back in my inbox on a price change alert. The owner had marked them down for a second time. Apparently a client had ordered them, and then she realized that she didn’t like the cut of the boot, and so she sent them back.

It was like the God of Shoes was smiling down upon me. The two markdowns combined with my employee discount (and perhaps this week’s grocery allowance) made the shoes within my price range. I’d promptly placed the order, and began my impatient wait for my American designer shoes to make their way across the Atlantic and through customs.

“Cut it open,” I’m dancing on my tiptoes as Jeanette brandishes a pair of scissors towards me. “I can’t—my hands—” And I make a weak wave, trying to show her that I’m trembling with excitement.

“Oh god, okay, I can do this. Don’t fuck this up,” Jeanette laughs to herself as she begins to carefully slit open the tape holding the box shut. “I can already see their logo!” She squeals and hurries with the rest of the tape.

I can’t wait anymore. “Let me open it,” I beg and she scoots the box towards me. I push away the protective layers and grab hold of the simple white box with the bold ‘D & G’ emblazoned across the front.

“Oh,” Jeanette sighs next to me and then reaches out to touch the box reverently. “Oh it’s so pretty. This is the shoe that was only available in the states?”

I nod and tug the lid off and then dig through the layers of tissue. “Yeah, they haven’t even come to the UK yet. I’m, like, the first person to have a pair in the whole of England, I’d expect.” I can’t quite keep all of the glee out of my voice.

Jeanette says something in reply, but I don’t hear her. I’m far too busy staring at my gorgeous pair of boots. They’re absolutely perfect, all delicate black lace with a darling peep toe.

Is it weird that I’m feeling a little weak at the knee? I am so in love, and I’m not even embarrassed about it.

“We should go somewhere,” Jeanette breathes, also gaping at the shoes. “And do something that requires us to prop our feet up some place high, so everyone can admire your shoes.”

Despite my enamored state with my new shoes, I’m still coherent enough to register the absurdity of my friend’s statement. I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up unexpectedly in my throat. It feels so deliciously refreshing to laugh and to feel carefree.

“Do you even realize just how ridiculous you sound?” I arch an eyebrow up at her as I carefully place both boots on the counter. “What on earth could we possible do that entails us putting our feet up—”

“I don’t know,” Jeanette butts in defensively. “It was just a suggestion! It’s not like I can do a lot with this,” She looks down pointedly at her belly.

“Fair point,” I contend, and begin to peel away the layers of protective packaging. “We don’t have to go out, Jeanette. We can just lie about here and watch telly. I think I have a few episodes of Breaking Bad taped,” I pause and mentally go over the shows on my Sky+ box. “And reruns of Arrested Development.”

“I’m tired of being cooped up in here,” She grumbles, flinging herself into a chair. “Let’s go out and do something. And I know that I can’t do a lot with this,” She points down at her belly. “But I need to get out of the house. Let’s go get fish and chips and walk to Camden Market.”

I’m so tempted to say no, to just collapse on the sofa and vegetate for the rest of the evening. But Jeanette looks so pleading and desperate that I find myself nodding and agreeing to a night out on the town. Plus I get fish and chips, which is always a huge bonus.

And so, fifteen minutes later, I find myself locking my apartment door behind me and heading back in the direction that I came from to go back to the tube. Jeanette is bundled up next to me, and she’s so excited that she’s nearly vibrating, and I know that I’ve made the proper choice in agreeing to come out with her tonight.

Spending time with Jeanette (with any of my mates, really) has been so difficult lately. Uni started back up, and I’ve been picking up hours at the shop, as well. Not to mention, I’ve only just begun training for the internship at the museum. So between all of that and Harry… well, I’m quite ashamed to admit that my friend obligation has fallen by the wayside.

So much has been going on in the last five months. Jeanette, unable to find a job or pay for another term in school, is moving in with Roger and Abi and their children. It’ll be devastating to lose my roommate (I mean, who else will be willing to chat with me when I wake up at 3 AM from an awful dream?), but I suppose I’ll get used to the solitude once again. Regardless, she’s moving in with them, and she’s decided to place the baby up for adoption. One of Abi’s friends was unable to have children, and they’ve graciously offered to adopt Jeanette’s baby. It took a while to convince Jeanette, but she agreed after asking for the occasional visit and update.

And not to mention that I did, in fact, land the internship at the museum. I’d been completely blown away when I received the phone call from Victoria, and I’m quite afraid that I did something monumentally embarrassing. But for the life of me, I cannot recall what I said to her, or how I reacted. I just remember being so completely shocked. Jeanette tells me that I didn’t embarrass myself too badly, but she won’t tell me what exactly I said, so I’m disinclined to believe her.

At any rate, life has been moving quickly for me. Mum is due just next month, and my parents are planning to have my new sibling home in time for the holidays. I’ve agreed to take the week off of school and work and hop on the train to Colchester. I’m excited at the prospect of the new baby, but at the same time, I feel completely disconnected from my family.

The last time my parents had a baby, I had been 17 and completely stuck on planning out the most elaborate and fantastic 18th birthday party Essex had ever seen. But Owi had arrived the day before my birthday, and things were so hectic that my birthday got pushed to the backburner.

The point is that I was so focused on me that I hardly am able to recall just what a new family member entails for everyone. Add on the fact that I’ve been gone for three years, and I honestly feel as though I won’t know this new baby at all.

“That smells absolutely heavenly,” Jeanette pipes up suddenly, and I’m brought back to reality once more. “You can smell it halfway down the block. I hope they’re not busy,” She adds on thoughtfully as if the thought has just occurred to her. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always hungry,” I reply as we round the corner and the bright red awning of the shop comes into view. “You told me yesterday that your stomach was eating your liver because we didn’t have any crisps in the cupboard.”

“It was!” Jeanette insists, her cheeks a rosy ruby red from the cold. “I’ve never felt such intense hunger pains in my life. And if you hadn’t eaten the last of the crisps—”

“But I didn’t,” I laugh as we draw up to the threshold of the diner. There are three people ahead of us, so we hover just inside the doorway. Close enough to feel the warmth, but far enough that the smell doesn’t overwhelm. “You ate the last bit when we were watching The Eastenders.”

“I bloody well did not,” She looks affronted. “I think I would remember eating an entire bag of crisps.” When the person in front of us turns around and looks horrified at our topic of conversation, Jeanette just shrugs. “I would.”

“Well the mystery still remains with as to who ate the last of the crisps,” I roll my eyes as we step up to the counter. “Even though pregnancy brain has conveniently blocked the memory from your mind—hello,” I greet the worker and speak over Jeanette’s protests. “How’re you?”

Ten minutes later, Jeanette and I both walk out of First Choice with our takeaway containers. The heady smell of vinegar makes my stomach rumble, and I realize just how hungry I am.

As we wait for the pedestrian light to change to walk, I take a huge bite of my cod, even though I know well enough that it’s much too hot to be eating straight away. I’d watched the cook pull it out of the fryer and dump it into my takeaway container. But I still can’t resist, and as I drop the fish back onto my chips, I shriek.

“I told you it was too hot,” Jeanette laughs, chewing on a chip that she’s soaked in vinegar. “And now you just look stupid.”

“Piss off,” I mumble, licking the salt off my fingers as we set off across the street. “You’d have done the same.”

My friend is quiet as we step up onto the sidewalk and start to head down the busy Camden High Street towards the market. Even though it’s a Tuesday night the market is surprisingly busy. Already I can hear the vendors calling out to potential customers, and I can smell the scent of Indian food from down the road.

Jeanette pops another chip in her mouth. “So are you going to bring Harry around any time soon?”

I look at her from the corner of my eye and then shrug, busying myself with brushing some salt off of my fish. “I don’t know. Why?”

“No reason,” She says slowly, taking her time chewing her potatoes up. “It’s just… I’ve met Harry, and stuff, but he’s never really spent time with all of us together. You’ve been going out for five months. Are you ashamed of us?” She drops the last question in a calm voice, and I’m surprised.

“Ashamed?” I echo her, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “No! Of course not, what’s given that impression?”

“Because you two hole up in your room, or go out and do whatever. I just… I feel like you don’t bring him around. We’ve met all of your other boyfriends before,” She dusts her fingertips off and then looks at me directly. “I just thought that maybe you didn’t want him to know about me and the baby.”

She says the last bit so softly that I’m nearly convinced that I’ve made it up. But I take one look at the tears welling up in her eyes, and my heart wrenches. I know I’ve been such an awful mate these past few months, but I never dreamed that it affected Jeanette so deeply.

I pull her flush against me, nearly crushing her box of chips in my haste to hug her. “Of course I’m not ashamed of you. You’re being such a goose, Jeanette. Tell you what, Harry and I are hanging out tomorrow. Let’s all have dinner at Gilbert’s, yeah? All of us and Harry, we’ll give him a proper introduction to the group.”

“Really?” Jeanette shoots me a rather unflattering look.

“Yes!” I laugh, and then pull away. “Of course. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s just the four of us. It’ll be great.”