Ruin the Friendship

*CW - mentions/insinuations of gynaecological painful conditions

*Story is also part of a bigger story*

Through my back door, I watched as boats floated along the horizon under the rising moon. Their lights glided slowly along the water, bouncing ever so gently with the waves. Further up the beach, the flood lights turned on, and a flurry of people made their way out onto the sand to get the best spots for the fireworks.

I ran my hands over my stomach, flattening out my mustard-coloured maxi skirt. Despite my painkillers, the bulge of my endo belly was still present, hidden as best it could be under the flare of the A-line skirt and my favourite black tank top. For the first time, I dreaded the annual firework display. I wanted to welcome in another year of pain and loneliness, curled up on the deck with a glass of gin and tonic, all the while watching the explosion of colourful sparks disappear into the ocean.

Lola and Violet’s reflection came behind me, giggling amongst themselves. My arms flew down to my side, and I turned to face them. Violet’s face dropped, and she immediately ran towards me, ‘You doing okay?’

I faked a smile, ‘Of course. Just tired.’

‘While I believe that, I can see there’s something — Oh, honey,’ Lola said. ‘Pain again or …’

‘No, just fucking exhausted,’ I replied. ‘So pissed off too … I — I just — I want this to be like the old times, but there’s just no use, is there?’

‘It’s felt like you’ve been fighting yourself since you’ve come back,’ Violet said.

‘It has, hasn’t it?’ I concurred. ‘Fucking frustrating if you ask me.’ I slumped into my window sit. My heels kicked the wall with force I swore I heard a crack. ‘Shit. Don’t tell me I need to get a plasterer out.’

Violet looked. ‘Nah, nothing there love.’

‘How about you stay here,’ Lola suggested. ‘I’m sure we can get that cute Radiologist to stay too.’

‘Ugh gross. I’m all for it, but please refrain from that language.’

Hunter walked out, hair cut, ‘Aw, I was looking forward to my first bonfire in years.’ His sarcasm was laid on thick.

I didn’t really have a choice. It was either have a lonely night down on a sand dune, or spend the night in the house with Hunter.

‘I really hated these things so was planning on heading back to Nan’s but if you want me to stay with you, Estelle …’ he trailed off, looking at me. ‘Could chuck on one of your awful movies you love so much.’

I felt a smile creep across my face. ‘Just for that, mister.’ I pointed a finger at him teasingly. ‘You’ll get my rendition of All That Jazz.’

‘Oh fuck. Well, I did walk into that one.’

Violet and Lola laughed.

‘Enjoy, you two,’ Lola sang on her way out the door.

‘Well if we’re staying … PJs, popcorn, whisky or gin?’ Hunter asked.

‘Sounds like it’s already about to be a great night. And gin, please.’

It felt like the old days. We're alone with the Grandmothers watching some black and white film, or some form of cult classic, and Lola and Violet on the beach with Lola’s parents.

Sure there were more occasions where I’d join them, other times I was battling pain.

This wasn’t even pain though.

As I stood in front of my mirror, I ran my hands over my bulging stomach, the asymmetry of my breasts. My anatomy and physiology knowledge was extensive, not doctor level, but enough to know that I was trying to put faith in a doctor who didn’t want to doctor. Yet, she could doctor other patients.

There was a knock at my door, and I quickly threw on my overtly thin black nightie.

‘You okay, Estelle?’ Hunter called on the other side. ‘You’ve been a while.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’ I pulled my white and blue floral kimono off the hook on the back of my door. I adjusted the calf-length cotton apparel on my shoulders as I opened the door. Hunter was no longer on the other side, instead he was putting Chicago into the DVD-player.

‘I made you a gin and soda with some lemon juice.’ He said. ‘Popcorn is in the microwave, shouldn’t be too much longer.’

‘Sounds good.’ My fist gripped the ice cold glass, condensation already running along the outside and dripping onto my thighs. ‘That’s a perfect G and T. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied. ‘Can I have a taste, please?’

‘Go ahead.’

He took the glass out of my hand. ‘Hmm, that it is so good. Can we swap?’

I laughed. ‘Oh you’re cute.’ I took my glass back. ‘Nope, sorry hon, stick with your whisky on the rocks.’

There wasn’t any further debate, and he went to the kitchen to take the popcorn out of the microwave.

‘Remind me why you like this musical again?’ He came back with the bowl of popcorn, and sat down on the couch beside me.

‘It’s satirical. Crime and corruption, all set in my favourite time period — the 20s.’ I grabbed a fistful of the buttery popcorn. ‘It’s also why I loved the Great Gatsby.’

‘So not because of Leo?’

I chuckled. ‘No, no, you know exactly who my favourite actor is though.’

He playfully rolled his eyes. ‘Just put on your musical, Roxie.’

As I hit the play button on the remote, I smirked. ‘You do know she killed her lover, right?’

He inched closer. His face just centimetres from mine. ‘So you keep reminding me.’

His breath was warm against my skin. All I could think of was Christmas. The tenderness of his lips against mine. Hunter cleared his throat, and I turned my attention back to the television.

How cliche. What’s next our hands —

The tips of our fingers touch as we both reached out to the popcorn.

Fuck’s sake!

A jolt of electricity shot through me, but I didn’t care, unlike him who flinched at the connection. We said nothing. The movie drowned out the awkward tension as best as it could, but I was all too aware of his presence.

‘Fireworks are going to start soon, if you want to watch over the back deck?’ Hunter said.

‘Yeah, if you want.’ I stood up and took my half-finished gin and soda with me.

The night air wasn’t as hot and humid as it was the other night, but still warm enough that I readjusted the kimono.

Hunter entered the deck behind me. ‘Why don’t you take it off?’

‘Maybe because I put on the first thing I found and it isn’t —’ I cut myself off. There was an old oversized t-shirt and shorts that I could’ve grabbed. My heart, brain, and certain other body part were not in sync like they used to be. Old feelings were there that I couldn’t ignore. Not to mention being touched in a way that I haven’t been in a very long time has reignited the need for companionship and intimacy; I want my hand held for Pete’s sake.

‘Estelle, it’s me,’ he said.

‘That’s just it,’ I whispered. ‘It is you.’

Before he could respond, the crowd in front of my backyard started the countdown.

30 …

29 …

He led me to the outdoor sofa.

25 …

24 …

23 …

22 …

‘You know, I think I liked you better with the slightly longish hair,’ I said running my fingers through the short dark waves.

18 …

17 …

‘Oh really?’ He smirked.

‘Yeah.’

13 …

12 …

11 …

10 …

His hand slid up my nightie, planting firmly on the side my thigh. I could feel his fingers playing with the thin waistband of my underwear.

6 …

He pulled me closer towards him.

4 …

Our faces were millimetres apart.

2 …

1 …

The fireworks exploded over the ocean. Hunter kissed me just like he did on the sun lounge a week ago. He was gentle yet hungry and I melted moving in sync with him. His lips soft, warm, and plump against my own. I let out a soft sigh as I tasted the whisky.

He pulled back slightly. ‘Come here, straddle me.’

I looked around, forgetting there was a wall beside me, blocking out the nosy next door neighbours. ‘Yeah? Okay.’ I swung a leg over his lap, and I smirked before planting my lips back on his.

My hands were immediately in his short dark chestnut hair. Hunter chuckled against my lips, and moved my long hair to the side. He kissed along my jaw line before his lips connected to the sensitive area of skin below my ear. It didn’t take him long to snake a hand down my back to my ass, squeezing it gently. The other cupping the base of my skull.

Pressure started to build inside me as Hunter used both hands closing the gap between us. His tongue and hands were a worthy distraction from the amounting pain running through my core. Our moans drowning out the sound of the distant the fireworks.

‘Should we —’ Hunter breathed against my lips. ‘Should we take this inside?’

The sudden break took me out of the moment and the pressure and pain I was ignoring was too much to bear.

‘I—’ I couldn’t formulate to right words to give him.

So close, yet so far.

‘Right. Got it.’

He gently pushed me off him and he headed towards the front door.

It wasn’t my intention.

I wanted to call him back, or follow him, but I was numb — paralysed even.

As the fireworks drew to a close, tears clouded my vision for a second before the damn broke. The flash flood of tears rolled down my cheeks splashing onto the cotton kimono as I crossed it tightly around my body.

It was like I was speaking two different languages. Or more likely, my brain wanted to win a game that I no longer wanted to play. The more I read the letters and spent time with him, the more I realised that our lack of communication over the past nine years was all for nothing. I longed for his company and support in a way that my sixteen-year-old self once did too.

Gran would say that my brain was in “protection mode”.

‘Protection mode from what?’ I asked the stars, hoping for a sign from Gran. The gate creaked below. ‘I’ve moved on from his stupid comment ten years ago. What’s there to protect? My body? Myself? All I’m doing is being a fucking bitch.’

A voice calling from the base of the stairs responded, ‘Why are you being a bitch?’

I jumped. ‘Jesus, Vi.’ Her head came into vision, with Lola following behind.

‘Shit, what happened — where’s Hunter?’ Violet raced towards me. ‘Do I need to kill him?’

Laughter escaped my lips. ‘Oh no, no. If you want to kill someone, it should be me.’ I let out a groan as the girls sat down on either side of me. ‘I’m just sick of the endometriosis, the dyspareunia or vaginismus, whatever the fuck it is — I took too long to answer, and he took it as rejection. I just — This is why I don’t date. Why I avoid men like the plague. Hopefully —’

I started to pick at the dead skin around my thumb with my other hand. My breath was shaky.

Violet ran her hand across my upper back, ‘Do you want me to talk to him?’

What could you possibly say?

‘While I appreciate it, Vi, this has to come from me, but I just …’ I rested my elbows on my thighs and held my head in my hands. ‘It’s a literal “it’s not you, it’s me” ordeal. I can’t have sex or a relationship, not because of him, but because my body has decided.’

I pushed myself off the couch and walked over to the balcony. The stars twinkled in the clear night sky. Boat lights moved slowly across the horizon. People chattered on the beach, a few couples continued to kiss in the lights of my and my neighbours’ backyard lights. It truly was the magic of New Year’s Day.

‘That’s what I still don’t understand,’ Lola piped. ‘We all know there’s more to a relationship than sex. Is —’ Violet excused herself. ‘— Are you sure that that’s what he was after? He doesn’t strike me as the guy —’

‘I don’t know, he didn’t even let me say anything before he left.’ I sat back down beside her. ‘Besides, I can’t either way. You’ve seen that I haven’t been myself. I adopted Oscar for a bit of emotional support when you girls aren’t here. He might not care, but I do. Unless I can get my health sorted, I don’t think it’s wise for me to get into any relationship where I can’t —’

‘And you’ve spoken to the Gynae about this?’

‘I’ve raised it several times, but she can’t seem to — I’m done with her. I just need to find a Gynaecologist who will —’

‘— Focus on you, holistically and not financially.’

‘Precisely.’