Colette called the day I moved into my apartment, just as I had finished wiping down the last of the kitchen cupboards. The phone startled me when it buzzed awake. I had already spoken to my mother and knew it could not be her.
\n \u2018Hullo stranger,\u2019 she said, her voice carefully light.
\n \u2018Colette,\u2019 I said. Even though it was three years since we\u2019d last spoken, I knew straight away it was her.
\n \u2018I was hoping you were still on this number. I only heard you were back yesterday.\u2019
\n I waited.
\n \u2018So, how was Arizona?\u2019 she said.
\n \u2018It was brilliant.\u2019
\n \u2018I bet it was,\u2019 she said, her voice all grabby now. \u2018You deserved that.\u2019
\n It was, I realised, as close to an apology as I was going to get.
\n \u2018How is James?\u2019 I said, even though I knew they had split long before.
\n \u2018James? God, that ended ages ago. Actually, you\u2019ll never guess. I\u2019m engaged.\u2019
\n \u2018Congratulations.\u2019
\n \u2018Thanks, sweetie. Hey, you won\u2019t believe where I met him. Remember that awful coffee shop we used to go to when we were in college?\u2019
\n \u2018No.\u2019
\n \u2018You do. Remember the time you got shortlisted for that essay award in first year? I stood on a table in there and announced it. Remember, I\u2019d printed it up and started to read it out?\u2019
\n I knew she had brought that up to remind me what a good friend she could be. She probably hadn\u2019t met her fianc\u00e9 there at all. But I could not help feeling pleased by the memory.
\n \u2018You got us barred,\u2019 I said. A hail of her laughter erupted, and relief seeped through me like sunlight.
\n \u2018So, sweetie,\u2019 she said, \u2018my hen night is next weekend. I thought, a villa in Tuscany, and the girls, lots of wine and tan topping up time. You\u2019ll come. Won\u2019t you?\u2019 <\/p>\n
Early that evening, I walked across the city and into the pub where I had found them together. After the traffic and the warm light of the setting sun, it was dark and quiet in there, smaller than I remembered. Behind the bar, a woman folded napkins, while a man sat on a stool, a half-empty pint beside the paper he was reading. I ordered a gin and tonic. Then I sat beside the empty fireplace.
\n How casually his hand had lain on her thigh. How flushed her cheeks had been from the coal blaze. And how naturally she had smiled at me when I called around to her the next morning, that red flannelette dressing grown tied tightly around her.
\n \u2018I just came to tell you,\u2019 I said, \u2018that I never want to see you again.\u2019 And then I started the speech that had been simmering inside me all night. \u2018You are poison,\u2019 I said. \u2018All you do is hurt me.\u2019
\n Her flatmate appeared in the hallway. Colette backed into it and I followed her, shutting the door hard behind us.
\n \u2018Colette,\u2019 said her flatmate. \u2018Is everything okay?\u2019
\n \u2018All you do is hurt me,\u2019 I said again. I was crying by then, hotly, and my throat hurt and my head felt heavy. I forgot all the things I wanted to make her remember. My violin recital at school, when she laughed throughout in the wings. Our holiday in Goa, where she disappeared with some guy, leaving me alone for the whole second week. My graduation day when she faked an asthma attack and later confessed she\u2019d done it because she had been bored.
\n In her hallway, she watched me cry, her arms folded across her chest. Her flatmate had disappeared.
\n \u2018He never loved you,\u2019 she said finally, her voice tinged with distaste. She shrugged.
\n There had been nothing left to do but leave. <\/p>\n
The villa was on the outskirts of a hilltop town that looked down onto the city of Florence. It had seven bedrooms, each high ceilinged and barely furnished. Colette said it was 300 years old. Her dad had bought it two years earlier, with his second wife. They had since broken up and it was rarely used. There was a musty smell and one of the windows was broken. Weeds grew alongside the geraniums in the window boxes, and in the pots dotted along the steps to the pool. A vineyard met the fence that marked the edge of the garden. It was dusk when we arrived and below us, the city lights were like a reflection of the stars in the darkening sky.
\n That night, we sat on the loungers that surrounded the pool, drinking from the crates of wine bought from the neighbouring vineyard. Colette\u2019s friends were loud and cheerful. They talked about how strange it was to be in their thirties. They talked about ghosts and destiny and whether or not there might be a god. One girl said she dreamed she met God, and the next day she felt extraordinarily happy. Ever since then, she said, she knew, deep down, that the whole point was to strive to be the best person you could be.
\n \u2018I wish I could believe in one,\u2019 I said. \u2018But it\u2019s hard, doing what I do.\u2019
\n \u2018Frances does medical research,\u2019 said Colette. \u2018She\u2019s an atheist. Tell them,\u2019 she said.
\n \u2018It\u2019s sort of a new field,\u2019 I said. \u2018Using evolution theory to improve medicine. Like slowing antibiotic resistance in the body. That kind of stuff.\u2019
\n \u2018How does that make you an atheist?\u2019 someone said.
\n \u2018Well,\u2019 I said. \u2018There\u2019s no blueprint for the body, is there? It\u2019s just lots of different genes adapting so it can survive. That\u2019s why it makes mistakes when it\u2019s trying to get better from something. Like when you get diarrhoea to flush out a toxin, but then that can make you dehydrate and die.\u2019
\n No one said anything. Around us, the cricket song seemed to grow louder.
\n \u2018Tell them about diseases,\u2019 Colette said.
\n \u2018Okay,\u2019 I said. \u2018Diseases. Some need the person to move about so they can spread. So you\u2019re sick and you don\u2019t even know it. And then ones like malaria need you to be so sick you can\u2019t even slap the mosquitoes anymore. So you feel sick. It\u2019s all genes fighting other genes to survive. Where\u2019s your God in all of that?\u2019
\n \u2018I guess he\u2019s doing a good job of hiding,\u2019 someone said.
\n \u2018Bloody hell,\u2019 said someone else, \u2018way to take the kick out of being drunk.\u2019
\n We all laughed.
\n \u2018Sorry,\u2019 I said.
\n We opened more bottles of wine. We drank them. It must have been close to dawn when Colette and I wandered into the vineyard and picked some grapes. When we got back, the others had all gone to bed. We stood at the fence, staring down at the city.
\n \u2018Like a magic carpet,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018Ah,\u2019 she said. \u2018That\u2019s what I missed.\u2019 She put her arm around my neck. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it. Then she kissed my cheek. \u2018My bestest friend,\u2019 she said. \u2018I\u2019m so glad you\u2019re here.\u2019 And relief spilled over me again. <\/p>\n
The next day, Colette\u2019s cough could be heard everywhere. The heavy dust in the villa had woken her asthma. I hadn\u2019t seen her have a proper attack since we were in college, but a girl called Natalie had. She told us, in front of a frowning Colette, how they\u2019d called an ambulance in the end. Someone suggested we have another night around the pool instead of going out, just in case. But Colette said she was fine. She was not staying in on her hen night. What kind of girl did we take her for? In the early evening, three taxis came as planned, and wound us down through the hills, until we met the lights of the city, and entered them.
\n We were dropped at a cocktail bar recommended by Colette\u2019s dad, on the corner of a brightly lit square. The waiter showed us to a table on the terrace and we ordered our first round. When it came, Colette swigged from her drink and slapped her thigh and said damn. Later, she chatted with a group of American boys at the bar, even though it wasn\u2019t the kind of place you chatted to people at the bar. She was dressed to fasten eyes on her, in a fire engine red dress that gathered in flower shapes over her chest and ended with a fat satin border midway up her thigh. Her engagement ring caught and shone back the light. At one point, she looked at me and said,
\n \u2018Honey, you didn\u2019t think of getting those old roots done before coming away with us girls?\u2019 She pouted. Someone tittered.
\n \u2018No bitching allowed. That\u2019s the rule,\u2019 said someone.
\n \u2018The rule,\u2019 said someone else, and everyone laughed this time. Everyone except Colette, who sniffed daintily before sipping her cocktail.
\n \u2018I just thought if a girl was invited away on a weekend to glam it up with an old friend, she\u2019d make a bit of an effort,\u2019 she said.
\n \u2018Frances is a bookworm,\u2019 said the girl who had just spoken, who already looked and sounded drunk. \u2018They don’t care what they look like. Frances, you look lovely. You\u2019re a little angel.\u2019
\n There was more tittering.
\n \u2018I was just kidding, sweetie,\u2019 said Colette, smiling brightly. \u2018I know you don\u2019t have time for silly stuff like that with all your important work in the laboratory.\u2019
\n I went to the bathroom, where I surveyed myself in the mirror. An inch of dull brown hair topped the rich red I had dyed it a couple of months earlier, just before I left Arizona. A crescent of mascara cradled each eye. The skin on my nose was shiny. In the bright lighting, I could see how ill-suited my mustard top was to my pale skin. It was also too small for me; the long sleeves clung to my upper arms.
\n Natalie came in.
\n \u2018That sounded worse than she meant it,\u2019 she said. \u2018You okay?\u2019
\n \u2018Sure,\u2019 I said, my voice shriller than I meant it to be.
\n When we got back, the Americans were sitting at our table. Colette was smoking a thin cigar and laughing loudly.
\n \u2018Drink up, sweetie,\u2019 she said. \u2018You\u2019re falling behind.\u2019
\n I took a large gulp. It was delicious \u2013 frothy and sweet with a hot, dark undercurrent of alcohol.
\n \u2018Atta girl,\u2019 she said. Her skin glittered. Her eyes seemed to burn. \u2018Poor Frances doesn\u2019t get out much,\u2019 she said to the boy sitting beside her.
\n \u2018That\u2019s a shame,\u2019 he said. Then she turned her back to me. I finished my drink quickly and went to the bar to order another round, to have something to do. One of the Americans followed.
\n \u2018So how do you know the fabulous Colette?\u2019 he said. His voice sounded older than he looked.
\n \u2018From school,\u2019 I said. \u2018She was a good place to hide behind.\u2019
\n He laughed, his eyes lingering slightly longer than necessary on my face. He was so clean, so wealthy clean, with his short-sleeved shirt over a white t-shirt and glistening short hair and the musky smell of aftershave. When we got back from the bar, Colette was watching us. She ignored my smile.
\n \u2018Back to the villa,\u2019 she said. \u2018Drink up, folks. Party time.\u2019
\n In the taxi, I sat on his knee. His hand rested on my thigh. I leaned my back against his chest, his breath warm on my neck all the way to the villa where Stevie Wonder was already knocking out song after song from someone\u2019s I-pod and people were dancing around the pool. Natalie pulled me into her room, where she fixed my make-up, made me change into a dark blue dress of hers, a pair of heels.
\n \u2018Look at you,\u2019 she said, and we looked at my reflection in the mirror, my blue eyes turned up, my body long and curvy.
\n \u2018Who\u2019s a bookworm now?\u2019 she said, and we ran back out to the pool.
\n But now, my American was nowhere to be seen. And there was no Colette. I sat on a lounger, talking to no one, anger drumming through me like pain. I kept my gaze on the flat surface of the water. When Teresa tried to pull me up to dance, I told her to leave me alone.
\n I was still sitting there when my American ran out of the house, bare-chested and frightened looking.
\n \u2018She can\u2019t breathe,\u2019 he shouted.
\n We all ran inside. Colette was lying on the bed, her mouth and eyes wide open. Each breath she took was a high-pitched wheeze that made you think of an injured animal. She reached an arm towards her bag on the ground and opened and closed her fist. She glared at us, then at her bag.
\n \u2018Her inhaler,\u2019 said Natalie. And she emptied the bag. A mobile, lipstick and a notebook clattered against the ground.
\n \u2018I\u2019ll check her bedroom,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018And someone call an ambulance,\u2019 she shouted.
\n It took over an hour for the ambulance to arrive.
\n \u2018Her breathing\u2019s gone quiet,\u2019 someone said. \u2018Her lips have turned blue.\u2019
\n Natalie went with her in the ambulance. The rest of us followed in taxis. The Americans had already left.
\n In intensive care, a doctor told us Colette was stable. She had suffered a minor brain injury from lack of oxygen. She would probably make a full recovery, he said, eventually, but they could not tell how long this would take. It could be months. It could be years. <\/p>\n
As it has turned out, Colette hasn\u2019t fully recovered, at least not yet. It is one year on and she went back to work last week but to a new, less demanding position. She gets easily frustrated with herself, because she has lost her quickness. She can no longer demand the attention of everyone in a room, or reduce everyone around her to laughter. She is quiet. I know this because I visited her every second day for three months in the rehabilitation unit, and because now we meet up at least twice a week. She is very grateful to me for this.
\n After a few months, things ended between her and her fianc\u00e9. We are two single ladies, and should be proud of it, I tell her. One of these days we will travel the world and leave this stupid country where it belongs \u2013 in the middle of a freezing, jellyfish infested sea. She laughs at this and her eyes grow wet and big.
\n Sometimes, when I wake in the night, or when I\u2019m travelling somewhere on a bus or a train, I see myself standing in the middle of the vineyard the evening we returned from the hospital, when everyone else was sleeping. I see it very clearly; it is like looking at a film. The woman in it walks slowly and purposefully along an avenue of trees, warm light from a low sun filtering through the branches. She stops and takes the inhaler from her bag. She hunkers and places it beneath the leaf of a weed. Then she walks back to the villa and up the steps to the pool. Sitting on its edge, she lets herself fall in. Submerged by the water, she wraps her arms around her knees and pulls herself to the floor. A moment passes, and then she opens her body and the water pushes her back to the surface. She looks at the red roofs of the city below her, and sucks in the summer sweetened air.
\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Colette called the day I moved into my apartment, just as I had finished wiping down the last of the kitchen cupboards. The phone startled me when it buzzed awake. I had already spoken to my mother and knew it could not be her. \u2018Hullo stranger,\u2019 she said, her voice carefully light. \u2018Colette,\u2019 I said. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":166,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[335,333],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n