Chapter 32
Ash
‘I take responsibility,’ Ash says to Willow, gin and tonic in hand, fat drips of condensation licking at her fingertips.
She’s here, she’s made it, she’s in Porto with her best friend.
She’s spent three days in an Airbnb of her own, walking and eating and being blissfully alone, and now Willow is here they’ve checked into the Torel Avantgarde together and a full debrief of CJ’s fuckery has commenced.
‘I do. When somebody tells you who they are, believe them, that’s the saying, right?
I willingly ignored what I knew. Like I always do. ’
‘Oh, babe,’ Willow says, signalling to their waiter they’ll take another round.
They’re on the terrace, sun glistening off the infinity pool, view of the Douro River spread ahead of them, a slice of serenity – emotional turmoil notwithstanding.
They’ve been reunited for ninety minutes, and Willow is now up to date on everything.
It felt too big to get into on the phone, this all required face-to-face analysis.
‘I don’t want to sound like somebody’s mum when Will Young came out as gay, but from everything you said about her – how it went from this intense hate to an even more intense friendship – I did half think, in the back of my mind, that maybe it was more than just friendship.
Like, if she was a man I would have said something, you know?
That you obviously had feelings for her.
I guess because she’s a woman I felt like it wasn’t my place. ’
‘Weird, how it flips everything, isn’t it?
’ Ash sighs. ‘But honestly, it wasn’t even a big deal for me.
You know, with stuff I’ve done before, the orgies and whatnot.
I guess I’ve wondered what Mum and Dad would say if I came home with a girlfriend, but I feel so removed from them right now – in a good way – that who cares, you know? CJ is just … CJ.’
‘The orgies and whatnot, of course,’ Willow smiles. Willow has always supported any expression of sexual exploration Ash has tried, but she’s pretty vanilla herself. Happy to be pedestrian, she says.
Ash rolls her eyes playfully. ‘You know what I mean. I’ve never thought of myself as queer, but whatever, you know?
I like people. Gender doesn’t matter. Or,’ she takes a beat, thinks this through.
‘Maybe it does matter? I definitely fancied her because she’s kind of androgynous.
Not androgynous, but … masc? Is that the lingo? ’
‘Honey, you’re asking the wrong girl,’ laughs Willow. ‘I’ve had sex with one man, in my whole life. I don’t know anything about anything about anything.’
Ash looks at her friend, reminds herself that they’re here, after all, because Willow needed to get away. ‘Listen to me, going on about my sapphic holiday fling when your life is potentially in tatters. I’m sorry. How are you doing? How is your heart?’
The waiter comes over and delivers their second round of drinks, kind enough to leave a small bowl of crisps behind too. The women dive in: gin and crisps on a city hotel rooftop? What could be better.
‘My heart cannot be heard over the voices in my head,’ Willow admits. ‘I just rationalise everything: can’t leave because of this, can’t stay because of that.’
Ash cocks her head. ‘Might there be an element of gathering your courage?’ she asks, softly.
Willow looks out at the view. ‘Probably,’ she says. ‘But it feels so … final, to say I’m here to find my brave. Here to get strong enough to end it. I’ve just known him forever, you know? I don’t even know who I am without him …’
‘OK,’ nods Ash. ‘So we won’t say that. We’ll eat some nice food, and have early nights, and swim in this pool, and we’ll go gently, OK? Talk about it, not talk about it, whatever you want.’
Willow nods, slowly, mulling this over. ‘Thank you,’ she says, and then she’s crying, just a little bit, and apologising for crying, and Ash is getting up to go hug her, welling up herself because her best friend is in pain.
Maybe all love ends in tears, she thinks.
Maybe CJ has it right, keeping her heart locked away like she does, protecting it.
The thing is, Ash just can’t believe that’s true.
The heart is like any other muscle, if you don’t use it then it atrophies.
The more you use it, the stronger it gets.
That’s what she wants for Willow: to know that she will find love again, and a love that is worthy of her.
That’s all she wants for herself. What choice does she have except to keep believing?
Keep hoping? The alternative just isn’t an option.
There’s no time better spent than with a best girlfriend, by a hotel pool, drinks in hand.
Ash and Willow alternate between poolside and pool swimming, floating on their backs like starfish or side by side at the edge, legs kicking, arms supporting them, chatting ten to the dozen.
Ash is true to her word and doesn’t press on the tender bruise of Willow’s marriage, instead telling her more about Mona, about what she’s seen and done, all the little Portuguese titbits of information she’s picked up that she wouldn’t know from a simple flying visit: the coffee culture, how late everyone seems to eat, the pace of life here and how it bleeds into everything.
‘I definitely recognise the urgency I’ve been doing everything with,’ Ash explains, balancing herself horizontal by her neck on the pool edge, face upturned to the late afternoon sun. ‘I operate on a day-to-day basis like my arse is on fire at home, and I honestly couldn’t tell you why.’
‘I just thought that’s what made you happy,’ Willow says, lifting a leg to admire it. ‘I thought you were just wired to always be go, go, go. You’ve been that way as long as I’ve known you.’
‘I think I’ve been busy because it feels useful to be busy,’ Ash says. ‘Not to be dramatic but … well, piling it all into my day, having everything scheduled, it felt like purpose, I suppose. But then, strip all that away and it turns out I’m still worthy.’
‘You’re so worthy!’ says Willow. ‘Ash!’
‘I know, I know. But what we see in each other isn’t always what we see in ourselves, is it?’
Willow sighs. ‘Urgh. Too true.’
Ash looks at her from the corner of her eye and waits.
‘I’m going to leave him,’ Willow says.
‘I thought so,’ Ash says. ‘Are you … OK?’
‘No.’
‘No,’ agrees Ash. ‘No, of course not.’ They float.
Eventually Ash says, ‘I wish you could have met my friend Mona. I know we all tell each other that there are a million different ways to live a life, but it’s not until you see somebody doing it, especially somebody older who has been doing it, who really is all right, that it truly feels possible.
We all have the ability to light the way for one another. ’
Willow nods, doesn’t say anything else. Ash senses that she can’t because she will cry. She reaches out a hand for her friend’s and squeezes it. Willow squeezes back.
After a while, Willow says, ‘It’s helped me, seeing you here, seeing how different you are. You’re lighting the way for me already.’
‘What?!’ says Ash. ‘No! I’ve just been flouncing around. And I’m still all talk. Let’s see if I can hold on to this inner Zen when I’m back, shall we?’
‘You will,’ says Willow. ‘Some changes can’t be undone.’
Ash pulls a face. ‘True. Maybe.’
When they’re out, lying on sunloungers with thick, matching stripy towels, Ash decides that one of the changes she has most deeply encountered really is that she is worthy, that she is enough, and that she is no longer a woman who sits around waiting to be chosen – or worse, not sits around waiting but actively tries to convince somebody to love her, to want her, to choose her.
And so, with CJ, she feels it is best to bite the bullet, to draw a line under it for the sake of clarity.
After their fight CJ actually texted a message, short and sweet:
Hey. I’m so sorry for this morning. Can we talk when you’re back? Or even in a few days? Or whenever you’re ready? Xx
Of course Ash ignored it, because that’s allowed: she didn’t know what she wanted to say. But now she does. As Willow throws on a linen shirt and goes in search of the loo, Ash finds a shady spot and types into her screen:
Hey. Last week got a little out of hand.
I was just thrown, and obviously hadn’t slept much either.
Let’s not have a big chat or anything, it’s not necessary.
I’m in Porto now. Once I’m back I’ll only be here a couple more weeks – this time has flown!
– and I’d just like to enjoy them, no drama.
I’m not sorry about what happened, but forwards movement only.
If it’s OK, I’d prefer it if you didn’t text me again whilst I’m away.
I’d really just like to be present for my best friend. See you when I’m back, I hope. Ash x
She rereads it, and then hits Send before she can change her mind. Not that she would: it feels grown-up and self-possessed to say what she needs and draw a boundary for herself. In fact, she’d go so far as to say that she is inordinately proud of herself. Forwards movement only, indeed.