And Then Death Greeted Me

SUM OF OUR PARTS

'Can we talk?'

Kat's voice echoes in the corridor. The sound reverberates in me too, churning my stomach. Chris has been held back by her teacher, for some reason or the other, and I'm stuck waiting outside her classroom on my own. Well, not on my own anymore, now Kat's appeared.

'Probably overdue,' I admit. 'How are you doing?'

Her curly hair is brushed into a ponytail, messier than I'm used to seeing. She blows a stray lock out of her eyes and shrugs, saying, 'Alright. Bored, really. You?'

'Better,' I say.

She looks away for a second, her eyelids fluttering as she inhales deeply. 'We aren't friends anymore.'

'No,' I say. 'Unfortunately not.'

She laughs, the sound cold and bitter. 'You could at least say it like you mean it.'

'I do. I – Kat, you were my oldest friend. We grew up together. If I thought there was something worth saving in our friendship, then... but I don't feel that there is. I think... if we both want to grow, and be better, we have to do it separately.'

'I don't understand,' she says, frustration dripping off her words. 'I don't get it. I know I could be a bitch sometimes, but how can you say that's enough to throw ten years of friendship in the trash?'

I shake my head. 'It's not just being a bitch sometimes, Kat, that made you so hard to be friends with.'

'Then what was it?'

'You really want to know?'

'Well, I'm not here for the pleasure of your company,' she snaps. But something in her suddenly melts, and she groans, turning away. 'I'm sorry. Okay? Yes, I want to know everything.'

I swallow hard, turning away too. 'I put up with all the baggage that came with you for ages. Just because you were my friend, my oldest friend. Whenever I even thought about cutting ties, I was just... bombarded, either by myself or by Chris, with everything we've ever gone through. As children and teenagers. You were the first person I told about absolutely anything. Of course I didn't just want to throw that away.'

'Then why did you?' she hisses.

'You were too much,' is all I can say, and it's the painful truth. 'You were always so quick to remind me of everything that was wrong with me. My height, my weight, my shape. Whenever I tried to confront you, you brought it back round on me! As if I was to blame, somehow! You never, ever took responsibility. You made me question myself, like I'd made everything up, or misremembered what you'd done. And you were so judgemental about every single thing I ever did. It got to a point where I didn't want to pick up your calls, or see you in the corridors. I dreaded school because of you. You were just... too much. I couldn't deal with it anymore.'

She stares at me, eyes wide. 'Oh,' she says, her voice oddly choked.

'I – I'm sorry.' My eyes are suddenly wet. 'I can't change you, Kat. But you wanted to know why I couldn't be your friend anymore. If this was before, the old me, I might've put up with it all – just so I didn't upset you. But I can't do that anymore. I know and want too much. I want to be better, and I can't do that with you.'

'What about me?' Her voice is broken. 'If you, my oldest, closest friend can't change me, then who can?'

'Yourself. You and only you.'

She shakes her head. 'It hurts.'

'It always will,' I say. 'I really did care about you. I really do wish you the best.'