The Walls Around Us

Elaine opens her phone to check the time. Almost one. She has to endure this for just two hours, then she can make her excuses and get to the cafe before him. Get settled. Prepare.

The pictures are all still on Instagram. She nods as though this answers a question, and rings the doorbell.

“Elaine! The last to arrive, come on in,” Kate ushers her into the living room where the others are sitting in a semicircle. The babies are in a makeshift play area, happily bashing their toys on the ground. Everyone waves at her. Everyone’s already here.

“It looks incredible,” Elaine nods at the decorations sellotaped to the wall, “A lot of plastic, though,” she can’t help adding. Her fingers touch a helium balloon in the shape of a stork. She sees the looks exchanged between her old school friends and quickly takes her hand away.

“I know, it’s beautiful,” Kate waddles her way back to the couch, ignoring Elaine’s comment or not hearing it, “I’m so lucky to have Laura, I honestly don’t deserve all of this.”

Everyone gushes loudly at once, insisting that she absolutely does deserve it. Laura is the only other person besides Elaine who doesn’t say anything.

Food is served on pink, paper plates; sandwiches cut into triangles with plastic unicorn toothpicks. Courses of oohs and aahs and amazing spread, Laura.

Elaine chews the ham and tomato between bread, takes a few non-committal pictures of the iced buns on pink table cloth. Everyone chats around her. Occasionally, one woman interrupts another and points at the playpen. No-one is put out at being interrupted and everyone stops to watch the babies until someone starts the conversation up again.

After lunch, the women take their babies on their laps. Elaine checks her phone. Relief and nervousness course through her when she sees it is past two.

“Well, that playpen was a great idea,” Maria exclaims, one twin on each knee, “A few minutes of peace to eat lunch is a blessing these days, am I right?” Everyone hugs their babies close and laughs and nods.

“I love these little terrors,” Maria kisses each of their bald heads, then turns to Elaine, “but you don’t know how lucky you are”. Everyone laughs again, as if this were meant to be funny, “Please tell me you’re doing something exciting tonight, I can’t remember the last time I went out on a Saturday.”

Flashbacks of child-free Maria kissing strangers up against sweaty walls in nightclubs come into Elaine’s mind.

“Nothing special,” she smiles.

Kate’s face is flushed as she balances the presents on her swollen belly. She claps her hands together between each one, like an excited child. After opening another set of baby grows, Elaine excuses herself and makes her way to the kitchen, its counters stacked high with plates of half eaten sandwiches and buns. The presses have been painted cream and Elaine runs her fingers over them, remembering a straight-faced Kate in her overalls and paint brush, determined to make her new house beautiful. Afterwards, she linked Elaine’s arm and they walked happily together down to the pub. John, Kate’s husband, collected David when he heard where they were. The four of them spent the evening drinking stout, and idly debating something they’d heard on the radio about the gender pay gap, simply because none of them had anywhere else to be.

“Do you need anything?” Laura is standing in the door, holding a bunch of non recyclable wrapping paper.

“I just came in to see if there were any treats left,” Elaine says, picking up a half-eaten iced bun and awkwardly putting it back down. “It’s all lovely, you really did a great job.”

“Apart from all the plastic, you mean,” but she’s smiling, and so Elaine smiles, too.

Laura puts the paper in the bin. She doesn’t ask why Elaine doesn’t go directly back into the sitting room. Instead, the two women quietly clean up the colourful rubbish of all the mothers.

“This has really reminded me of how important friends are,” Lynn, mother of a four-month-old boy, says after putting him down for a nap with the other babies. Everyone nods earnestly for her to continue, “I just feel as though my whole life right now is nappies and babies. Don’t get me wrong,” she adds quickly, “it’s the best job in the world, but events like these make me realise how much I miss seeing you guys. I mean, we used to do everything together.” she looks over at Kate and Elaine can’t help but roll her eyes. Lynn, who has always wanted to be Kate’s best friend, has not changed.

“Let’s organise something! With the men,” Maria pipes up, “Will we go out for dinner?” she turns to Elaine, narrows her eyes slightly, “I haven’t seen David in a lifetime, he’s always the life and soul of the place.”

“I love this idea,” Kate claps her hands again, “can we do it before my due date? Next Saturday?” The women murmur excitedly about the availability of their husbands. Yes, I believe he’s free, oh he can definitely change that, I’ll speak with him.

Maria is already Googling restaurants that can take the group,

“It’ll be just like old times,” she says. Elaine glances up at Laura standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a blank expression on her face.

“Can you go if you’re not in a couple?” Elaine asks. Everyone stares at her.

“We all have partners though,” Maria says innocently,

“Actually, David won’t be free. So it’ll just be me,” Elaine feels the annoyance radiating from the women for having burst the bubble of their plan.

“Well, we can just do it another night,”

“Honestly, I’m happy to come alone,” she feels a familiar lump in her throat and wonders for the thousandth time why she is still friends with these women. But everyone their age is either married, pregnant or has children. Every group of friends is like this. Her life is a series of hens, weddings, baby showers and christenings; congratulating conformity.

“Of course, you can come alone,” Kate senses the tension, “And Laura, you too,” she turns to her sister and holds out her hand, “God do we really need a man at our side to go to dinner?”

Of course not cry the women together, and Elaine supposes she is meant to be grateful.

At ten minutes to three, Elaine finally leaves. A little later than she likes, but she was the last to arrive. Kate insists on walking her to the door,

“It’s the only bit of exercise I get these days,” she bats away attempts of help from the women. Then, when they are alone in the hallway,

“Are you okay?” She glances back at the closed door, “I know the baby stuff isn’t your thing,” Elaine winces, “but you were exceptionally quiet today. And that whole thing with David not being able to come to dinner…” she trails off.

There was a time when Elaine and Kate shared everything. Kate was always popular, always had friends like Lynn and Maria, but what she and Elaine had was different, they spent every spare moment outside school together. Throughout their twenties, they remained close, always going on holidays together, even when everyone else went with their boyfriends. They helped each other decorate their homes when they moved in with their partners. Elaine was the only person who knew about Kate and John’s temporary break-up before the wedding.

But things are different now and there are barriers between them. Elaine doesn’t know who put them there or why they exist, but she knows both of them can feel it, the walls women eventually and inevitably put up, separating themselves from each other.

She is about to respond when Kate says,

“Just because I decided to have a baby, doesn’t mean I’m not the same person I always was. I’m still your best friend. Don’t shut me out, Elaine, it’s not a crime to have a child.” Elaine gapes at her friend for a moment, trying to comprehend just how skewed her friend’s opinion of her is. But then she gathers herself and nods stoically and says nothing. When she can tell Kate is defeated, she congratulates her once again, and then leaves.

When Elaine arrives, David is already sitting in their usual seat by the window. He stands up awkwardly when he sees her and for a second, she almost hates him. “Don’t pity me,” is the first thing she says, the mask she wore at the baby shower now firmly put away, “I’ve spent the last two hours being pitied. I don’t need it from you as well.”

“I take it didn’t go well?” he sits back down. She shrugs.

“They want to organise a dinner next Saturday night with all the partners.”

“What did you say?”

“I said you couldn’t come. I’ll go alone. Kate’s sister, Laura, is going to go too.”

“I’m sorry,” David says, “Did you tell Kate?”

“On the day of her baby shower? No, I didn’t think you leaving me was in keeping with the general theme of new beginnings.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“I saw you haven’t deleted our pictures online,” she wants to kick herself for the hopeful tone in her voice.

“You asked me not to,” he says sheepishly.

“Yes… Is all your stuff gone?”“I cleared it out this morning.”

“This is it then?”

He nods.

“Do you think…” she starts.

“I don’t know,” he interrupts her, “maybe. It’s been so hard the last couple of years. We haven’t been ‘us’ in a long time.” It’s her turn to nod. This is a conversation they’ve had a thousand times.

“Maria and Tom managed to stay together and they did IVF three times.” she tries, though she knows it is pointless.

“Maria and Tom aren’t you and me.”

“I know.”

“It’s too hard.”

“I know.”

“Will you be okay at dinner next Saturday?”

“Don’t be nice when you’re leaving me. Be a prick, so it’s easier.”

“Okay, I hope you have a shit time,” he laughs weakly. She smiles at him and reaches out to touch his cheek in the way she’s touched it a thousand times before. But then she remembers, and takes it away. His smile fades too and the final moment of tenderness that will ever exist between them is over.

He pays for their coffee and gives her back the keys to their apartment.

She gets into her car and he gets into his and they drive away in opposite directions.

As soon as Elaine turns the key in the door, she feels the emptiness of their home. Boxes of her things are stacked in the corner of their bedroom and his side is empty except for the bedside drawer, which has been left open. She sits on the edge of the bed and pulls out its contents. First, the ovulation tests, she unravels them from the thin paper of medical instructions. Then she holds up one of the more recent pregnancy tests and looks at the singular line. Even now out of habit, she stares at the white space, willing a second line to appear.

The bin in the room is small and empty. A bag is folded down along its sides. She places the contents of the drawer into it, gently lowering each test, each ream of paper until eventually, the bin is full.

She stares at it for a minute, this plastic bag, holding everything that has made up her life over the last few years. She feels as though it has been waiting for her all of her life.

After a couple of minutes in the solitude of her memories, Elaine opens her eyes and stands up. She walks out of the bedroom and goes to pack some more boxes in the kitchen.

The bedroom door is left closed and the silence waits sadly behind it.