Inkspiredwrite

Friends in Metaphor

 

 

 

Monday morning. Magda & Beth’s flat.

 

A picket fence that used to be white but had been painted a bluish grey at some point before a small amount of grass before the cracked concrete step on which the package had been left.

 

Seemingly thrown down, the bottom corners of the box misshapen from the fall, causing imbalance. A key scratch down the left side of the black painted door glinted in the early sun as Magda pushed open the door gingerly, feeling resistance.

 

Back inside, Magda scowled as she wove her way between the two three-seater sofas that took up almost all of their small space. Old pink faded fabric. Red and green cable-knit cushion covers. Beth’s blown glass vase sitting bloated above the telly, half full with stagnant water that slowly leaked from its base. An ugly rosewood coffee table shoved awkwardly before one sofa.

 

‘He left the package on the doorstep when he was supposed to get a signature!’ Magda chewed at her bottom lip to quell her annoyance. Beth twitched, irritable, shifted the magazines to put down her tea. Magda clattered in the drawer until she found the scissors, looked over at her flatmate when she got no response. ‘Can you believe it?’ she pressed.

 

‘Magda.’ Beth spoke through a mouthful of toast, willing herself to be nice – it was Magda’s birthday after all. ‘Just open your package. Who cares?’ She managed a smile. A crumb fell off her top lip. Magda sighed and tore through the tape with the scissors, pulled open the box lid, and pulled out the dress. Layers of tissue fell to the carpet as she shook it out, held it up. ‘It’s nice!’ Beth nodded and stood, one hand on her hip, the other pushing her toast back up to her mouth. Magda smiled at her, feeling mollified.

 

‘Yes. It’s a nicer blue than in the picture too. Good.’

 

‘So you’ll wear that tonight, then?’

 

‘All day’ Magda answered too quickly. Her tone was accusatory and nervous at once. Beth swallowed and raised her eyebrows. Magda was high maintenance. She needed reassurance that to wear her dress all day was OK; she needed to be noticed for every moment of her day. Beth knew this about her and usually just understood, but now she had her own – real – issues, thanks very much. She felt Magda fidgeting beside her. ‘All day’s OK?’ It's Magda’s birthday, be nice Beth told herself again. She slurped her tea deliberately. Because Magda hated her doing it.

 

‘Yes Magda, it’s OK’ she answered. Magda sensed Beth’s annoyance and got up with more haste than she’d intended, catching the dress on the corner of the table. It didn’t pull and she sighed, relieved.

 

‘Tea?’ Magda’s smile was like apple sauce. Beth felt her eyes going squinty and imagined they looked evil.

 

‘Got some.’ Teeth gritted. ‘Thanks though.’ Magda’s smile melted down her face and she went to make tea for them both anyway.

 

The end of Magda’s birthday celebrations that evening. Vines Wine Bar.

 

Stained coffee cups, cold dregs, damp sugar tents, drying cake, discarded envelopes, warm wine in lipstick rimmed glasses, multi-coloured star confetti, congealing oil and vinegar, one forgotten umbrella, one compaq.

 

Six pm on Tuesday. Bernie’s place.

 

A film ready to play and wine in the fridge. The oven on and her flat dust free. Pizza next to hot chocolate sachets next to marshmallows on the counter and Bernie paced as she waited.

 

Jokes about Beth’s late arrival as she breezed in raking her fingers through her red curly hair and then slipped off her shoes.

 

‘Wine?’ Bernie called through from the kitchen to where Beth had sprawled on the couch in the other room.

 

‘Um..no, not for me’. The red hair bounced in front of half-closed eyes and a reaction was awaited. It came in the form of Bernie holding out a glass of water to her friend and studying her closely. Curlier curls? Redder red? Did babies do that to your hair?

 

‘Don’t look so nervous’ Bernie smiled. ‘Beth, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?’ Beth blushed.

 

‘I’m pregnant because I don’t want wine?’

 

‘Because you don’t want wine. Because you didn’t drink at Magda’s do last night. Because you look different, seem different…and you already told me about Tim, because I know you, so…’

 

A man called Tim flashed through Beth’s recollections yet again. A one night stand without exchange of numbers.

 

‘I found out for sure on Friday. Couldn’t think straight all weekend. I was wanting to tell you yesterday but I couldn’t get a word in bloody edgeways – incidentally, Magda’s driving me crazy.’

 

Bernie put her arm around her friend, suddenly having no idea what to say.

 

‘Magda drives everyone crazy’ was all she mastered, the matter of the pregnancy left like the proverbial elephant.

 

Shortly after eight pm on Wednesday. Magda & Beth’s flat.

 

‘When’s she due back, did she say? Is she out after work?’ Bernie glanced around the cluttered room. Beth frowned.

 

‘You can take your coat off you know. You are allowed to come over! Is Magda really that scary?’ Bernie shrugged and removed her coat.

 

‘Just annoying. Will you move out when the baby comes do you think?’ Beth moved to re-position the vase on the telly for about the fifth time since they got in. Talk of the baby was too much. It was way too early. Who knew where she’d live, what she’d be able to afford? The buds on the flowers she bought yesterday weren’t opening that well yet, she noticed. The stems seems tired, wilting. Beth’s frown deepened.

 

‘Why is this vase so bloody hot?!’ Despite having changed the water that morning and moving the flowers out of the direct sunlight, the glass was sweating. Bernie sighed loudly and sat down. ‘What?’ Red curls sprung round from the vase. Bernie smiled knowingly.

 

‘Avoiding the subject much?’ she asked, but her voice was kind. ‘Look, I’ll be there for you, it’s going to be fine, and-’ The front door swung open and shut again and Magda was suddenly in the room. Her eyebrows shot up.

 

‘Oh! Hi. Bernie, I didn’t know you were coming round.’ Bernie twisted her lips in irritation. Magda composed herself quickly although she didn’t have a clue why Beth wanted Bernie’s company so much when she had Magda to talk to. ‘It’s great to see you!’ She put down her bags and air kissed Bernie. ‘Want some wine? I picked up a bottle. Oh – this is yours, isn’t it? I had to pick up my powder from the bar, I left it behind the other night.’ So that’s where it was. Relief and further irritation caught at Bernie momentarily as she reached for the umbrella she’d been searching for. She felt suddenly better, comforted somehow, as she replaced it in the side pocket of her handbag where it lived.

 

‘Thanks. And yeah OK some wine would be nice.’ Beth looked down into her tea and screwed up her face.

 

Three years later. Park bench outside Beth’s work.

 

Birdshit, greenish-white, splattered on barbed wire. K-heart-N scratched beside her on the wooden bench. Chewing gum painted to look like a cloud in the sky on the pavement just in front of her feet. Beth grimaced as she noticed her scuffed heels. She never had time to do anything so luxurious as polish shoes since having Anna, but her daughter was a gift she’d never known she wanted. Working shitty office jobs round the clock wasn’t ideal but she had to make ends meet. And Bernie was amazing. The heavens opened as heavy boot heels thumped towards her.

 

‘Shit sorry I’m late! Blimey, bloody rain. Here get under, let’s go, I’m parked just round the corner.’ Beth tucked herself in behind her friend and shivered as they hurried toward the car. Bernie was driving them over to pick up Anna from her grandma’s and take them to Magda’s for dinner.

 

Beth’s phone started buzzing in her handbag and she ignored it until it stopped and Bernie’s began. Bernie laughed and shook her head, reaching down inside her pocket.

 

Can’t wait to see you! Are you on your way? X

 

‘Don’t tell me – Magda chasing us?’ Beth asked. Bernie nodded and went to shove her phone back in her pocket. The wind picked up and her umbrella blew inside out. ‘Ugh!’ Beth bowed her head, as if it would make a difference to the battering torrent of rain. Bernie switched direction momentarily and the fabric reformed its tent above them.

 

‘Yep, it was Magda’ Bernie confirmed, unlocking the car on the passenger side and sheltering her friend as she collapsed into the seat. ‘Who would probably rather I let us get soaked and ran all the way if it meant we’d get there sooner – which isn’t happening.’

 

As Bernie started the car Beth dialled Magda.

 

‘Magda, we’ll be there soon. Get the kettle on will you.’