You werent just stringing him along, were you? Gwen, be honest!
Suppose I was, so what? replied Blythe, rolling her eyes. But its your own fault! You shouldnt have praised him so loudly. He would have dumped you anyway. He even told me you werent his type.
Blythe lingered in the doorway of the kitchen, fingers digging into the doorframe as if she might summon a bolt of lightning with a glance. She clung to the hope that this wasnt the right car, that the voice wasnt his, that the hand on the mans shoulder wasnt his.
Reality, however, turned out to be a cold wind. Gwen was sitting in Oscars car, giggling at something, her hand patting his arm.
Blythe pretended not to notice. She slipped past and headed for the lift, not wanting to stage a scene in the hallway with the neighbours listening. Now that Gwen was back home
Are you out of your mind? After I told you how much I liked him!
Oh, Blythe, stop being dramatic, Gwen shrugged, waving a hand and pulling a sour face.
Stop being dramatic? You were seeing him behind my back! I showed you his pictures, I shared everything, I thought youd be happy for me
Listen, hes not a lamb. He isnt your property. He simply made a choice. It happens. I feel sorry for you, of course, but you cant let good things go to waste, can you?
Blythes eyebrows shot up, her throat tightening with outrage. And it was her own sister saying it!
It felt as though the drama belonged to someone else; they had always been close, the twoyear gap between them hardly a chasm.
You must always stick together, their mother used to say. One day your father and I will be gone. Men come and go, but you have each other forever. Youll help, youll share, youll be there when times are tough
How had it come to this, that Gwen now demanded Blythe share a man?
Perhaps it began when they decided to rent a flat together in East London. It seemed sensible: cheaper than going it alone, twice the fun, and, frankly, safer.
Gwen, could you meet me at the bus stop, just in case? Blythe texted later that night, after another latenight date.
When they finally got back, Blythe told Gwen about the latest oddball shed met on a dating site. He had rushed in for a kiss, ignored her protests, and declared they needed to establish a connection to see if they liked each other.
I told him I was uncomfortable, yet he kept leaning into my face! Can you imagine? He said theres no point wasting time either theres chemistry or there isnt. I tried to walk away, but he followed. I got scared. Who knows what a truly unstable bloke might do next Thanks for having my back.
Blythe often shared such datingsite tales with Gwen. Most were harmless: a jobless chap asking for a cab fare on the first date, a fiancé still living with his mum and inviting her over because shes understanding, or men who, when asked about work, erupted into accusations of materialism.
Blythe wasnt hunting golddiggers. Sometimes the men asked first what she did for a living and how much she earned. She blushed but answered without shame, wanting to show she could look after herself.
I dont know whats wrong with me I just want a man who looks after me, doesnt drink, can hold a conversation and has a job. If we share a hobby too, thatd be brilliant, Blythe sighed after yet another date.
Oh, love, youll find that one someday. Your standards are a bit lofty Gwen had replied.
Blythe sat, baffled. She wanted exactly what she was prepared to offer, stating only the bare minimum. She was almost resigned when he appeared Oscar Finch.
Oscar was different. At least he didnt demand an instant meeting. They had messaged back and forth for a week before the first date, his patience evident. He showed interest while respecting her space, never trying to be clever or overly flirtatious, simply checking in daily and asking how she was.
On their first meeting he said he lived alone, worked as an engineer, and adored dogs. By the third date he confessed he liked to discuss everything with words out loud. On the fifth they played a card game of questions, and his card read: What does cheating mean to you?
I once had a case he thought for a moment. A woman was sending her photos to other men. She claimed it wasnt a physical betrayal. I disagree. Since then I discuss everything on the riverbank cheating, marriage, children.
Id feel the same, Blythe agreed.
After that encounter she felt as if shed sprouted wings, a light breeze of hope fluttering in her chest.
She rushed to tell Gwen.
I think Ive finally found the one, Blythe announced. Hes exactly what I need. Kind, loves kids, understanding, ready to talk, willing to compromise. He has a decent job, his own flat, and no one will stand in our way if things work out.
Sounds decent. Can I see a photo? Gwen asked.
From that moment Oscars texts grew sparse. He missed one meeting, citing fatigue, but hed warned her in advance. He still wrote occasionally, even invited her over. Their last facetoface was three days ago.
Blythe blamed his silence on his busy schedule, assuming he thought their relationship had settled into a comfortable rhythm that didnt require constant chatter. Still, she disliked his appearing and disappearing without explanation.
Whats this then Blythe clutched her head. Hes seeing us both at the same time?!
Gwen shrugged, seemingly indifferent.
He hasnt promised anyone anything yet. Not me, not you, she replied coolly.
A heavy hush fell. Then Blythe sprang up, gathering her belongings.
Hey, where are you going? Gwen called after her.
I dont know yet. But I cant live with you any longer. You stole my man and didnt even apologise!
And what am I supposed to do? We still have to pay the rent and the bills next week! You were splashing water in the bathroom and blowing the fuse! Gwen crossed her arms.
Ask Oscar to let you stay with him, now that youre a couple.
Oh, you and your ideals Gwen rolled her eyes.
Honestly, I dont need much. Just dont have anyone stabbing me in the back, Blythe said, continuing to pack in silence.
She left without looking back. Standing in the stairwell, she messaged a friend, asking if she could crash for the night. The friend said yes.
Molly Reed met Blythe in an oversized Tshirt, several sizes too big, hair tied in a lazy ponytail, hands clean but unpolished.
Sorry, wasnt ready for guests. Come in, make yourself at home.
Molly set a table with a bottle of red wine, a bunch of bananas, and a loaf of sliced bread with a jar of chocolate spread. The combination was odd, but the warmth of the welcome soothed Blythe.
At first she brushed off Mollys question about what had happened. Then she steadied herself and recounted the tale.
