Page 118 of If We Were Young

The past was a funny thing. The memory. So much regret, and all for nothing really.

Fifteen years I’d been regretting not speaking on the doorstep, but now I saw I wasn’t the only one to blame. He was too.

Maybe if he’d said it differently. Maybe if I didn’t have an issue with words. Maybe if we’d each been braver.

Or maybe we were only ever meant to be two friends.

A dark and desperate ache pulled at my insides when I considered that reality.

Without thinking I pulled at my wedding ring, twisting it over the knuckle, pinching the skin until it flared red. It wasn’t coming off, so I gave it a lick and tried again.

“Mum, you okay?” I jumped at Hannah’s voice from the bedroom door. “You woke me up again. It’s not even seven.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh my god. Why are you crying?” She launched herself like a tangled tornado at the bed and almost sat on my lap. “Please don’t cry.”

I lifted my hands, my fingers swiping through the sticky hot trails. “Oh.”

She frowned at my hands. “You’ve made your finger sore.”

It was the truth. There was a big red mark above my wedding ring.

“Are you trying to take it off?”

“Yeah, I think so.” My chest heaved so hard.

“You need fairy liquid or Vaseline.” She nodded with all the knowledge of a thirteen-year-old. “Annabelle got a ring stuck. It was sooo bad her finger went sooo purple. Her mum said we needed to go to the hospital, but she didn’t want it cut off because it was her favourite. It took ages.”

Smiling, I swiped at my face again. My shoulders wouldn’t stop heaving up and down. “You’ve never told me that before.”

She shrugged.

“Hannah, please don’t be like me. Don’t let other people talk for you and tell you what to do. You’ve just gotta be you and never be scared or ashamed to show who that is.”

“Did Dad see you, do you think?” Her gaze met mine: no curtain of hair, no frown.

I licked my lips while I thought of how to answer. “I told him. He knew about my issues, but I’m not sure I’ve ever really shown anyone.” Reaching my hand out, I cupped her face. “It was always easier just to fade into the background.” With a pinprick of clarity, I realised why Hannah was talking more the last two weeks. It was because I had been. Since Matthew had come back into my life, I’d shown her more of myself then I ever had before. I’d let her in on my thoughts, the inner monologue I’d usually have hidden.

“How was Scotland?”

“Exhausting.” And heart-breaking. Life-shattering. Ultimately truth-delivering. “Hard actually, Han.”

“Why are you going into the office early?”

“I want to get the job done. I’ll be handing everyone their notice on Monday. We can’t afford to stay open anymore, and, Hannah, I don’t know why I’ve been struggling on. I think I was trying to prove my self-worth, that I could do something where I could speak to people, look confident, but I just created my own safe zone. I hid what I actually enjoy.”

“Which is what?”

“I don’t know yet. But we’ve got the chance to find out.”

She got up from the bed and reached for the dresser, grabbing a small tub of Vaseline I kept there. “Here. Let me help.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“No. Can I keep it though? I’ll keep it safe, I promise. Maybe I could use it?” She shrugged and trailed off. I wanted to shake her shoulders and demand that she never settled, that she kept pushing and pushing and be as brave as a pack of lions.

“I’d like that. Don’t let Annabelle get it stuck, okay?”