Chapter 19 #3
‘So, Lola,’ Darya said, ‘how are things with your so-called boyfriend, who I prefer to more accurately refer to as your boy-dictator or boy-waste-of-time?’
‘Boy-bonehead,’ Merry muttered.
‘I like it,’ Darya replied, eyes gleaming.
‘Stop!’ Lola cried, folding her arms across her body. ‘You’re being really disrespectful. It’s not okay to call Fletcher names.’
‘No,’ Darya said, leaning forwards, her forehead creasing in compassion.
‘What is not okay is us sitting back and saying nothing about your toxic relationship. What is very not okay is this boy stringing you along, taking you for granted, acting as if you are less than him. Less than precious and beautiful and someone to be cherished. I for one promise to be perfectly respectful to your boy-enemy when he starts being respectful to you, my friend.’
‘He’s not that bad!’ Lola said, eyes wide.
‘Well, that’s every woman’s happy-ever-after come true, isn’t it?’ Merry huffed. ‘Not that bad. What more could you wish for?’
‘How is he not that bad? What are the good things about your relationship with Fletcher?’ Darya asked gently, adopting a different approach now she’d been honest about her opinion. I could see why all those rich psychiatry patients spilled their secrets.
Lola adjusted her position on the sofa, head angled down as she thought.
‘We have fun together. He never expects too much from me. Like, I’m never only a dental nurse, or ought to lose a few pounds or should know more or do more or be more.
He’d never cheat on me. And while that might be because he’s lazy or whatever, at least I can trust him.
He doesn’t pretend to be better than he is.
I suppose I’d rather be with someone who’s real, even if the real them isn’t that great.
And I know he’s not that great. I’m not daft.
But it means it’s safe for me to be real too, even though I’m not that great either.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been the real Lola before. ’
I handed her an almost-empty box of tissues. One of many I’d worked my way through in the past few weeks. With a wobbly smile, she dabbed at her eyes, even though the tears kept coming.
‘That’s poppycock,’ Merry barked, causing the rest of us to jerk our heads towards her in shock. To my surprise, Merry was blinking furiously. ‘Not that great? Lola, you’re more than great. You’re… ginormous. Humungous. Gargantuan.’
Lola’s reddened eyes grew round.
‘Perhaps a different choice of adjective?’ Darya suggested softly.
‘Yes. That came out wrong.’ Merry gave a weak laugh, tugging on her dressing gown belt.
‘As if I can talk to anyone about being large. You know what I meant, though, Lola, right? You’re a giant when it comes to being awesome, fun, kind.
Spirits lift every time you enter a room.
You’re mammoth-sized when it comes to good energy.
You always see the best in everyone, which is perhaps the problem, because while not cheating or lying are admirable qualities, they don’t make up for treating you like an unpaid assistant.
And promising to take you engagement ring shopping, then bailing to complete a non-existent job application is dishonest. Might there have been other times, too? ’
‘I would be interested to hear why you have never been the real Lola before,’ Darya said. ‘Who made you feel as if you weren’t enough, that you needed to be more?’
Lola rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, that’s easy. My mother is relationally stunted.
Manipulative, emotionally frigid, all that.
I’ve read the blogs, listened to the podcasts.
I know why I’m conditioned to believe I’m only worth “not that bad”.
But that’s why I’m better off with a man who doesn’t care if I’ve got issues.
It’s not like I can undo my messed-up childhood, is it? ’
‘You absolutely can heal from the trauma of a narcissistic mother, Lola.’ Darya was firm, even as she wrapped her hand around her friend’s.
‘It will require time to dig out some deep thorns. It will not be comfortable or easy, but I would love to help you with that, if you want to try. In the meantime, please kick this not-that-bad, unreliable, unappreciative boy-bonehead to the kerb. Are you honestly happier doing his shopping, tolerating his excuses, twisting your life to fit around his than if you were single?’
Lola shifted on the sofa. ‘I’ll see him tomorrow. Ask him about the job and give him a chance to explain. You never know, he might have a perfectly good excuse.’
Merry gave a loud tut, followed by a huff and then a snort, just in case Lola hadn’t got the message. ‘Why give him another chance to make yet more excuses? Send him a text telling him you’re done being disrespected, end of story. He’d do the same if it was the other way around.’
‘It’s this way around, though,’ Lola said, quietly. ‘And if I’m going to start believing I might deserve better than him, I need to act like it.’
‘Fair enough,’ Merry sighed. ‘Are we going to watch this sunset or what?’