LIZZIE'S WORLD: A long-overdue reconciliation

By the time Saturday evening rolls round I am feeling ready to get myself out of my self-imposed seclusion and go out and have fun with friends. And so I head over to Jo and Johann’s house a little earlier than the 7pm she had indicated the party at her house starts. I haven’t heard from or seen Chris in the last two days at work, and I am trying to still my anxiety; did I break his heart?

Has he written me off? Can we not even just talk?

I haven’t dared to pick up my phone to look for him for fear of what he might say – and I have felt like constantly asking his PA Ciku to give me insights into his whereabouts might leave me open to even more office gossip than I have had to endure in the past.

And so, and I exit the car and press the alarm button to lock it, I resolve to put all thoughts of him behind me and act like he never existed.

“Hey!” Jo trills, looking both excited and puzzled as she opens the front door to me. “It’s 6:30. I thought you’d be here two hours late like you usually are,” she laughs as she ushers me in.

“Yea,” I say a little grumpily. “I needed distraction. I had nothing else to do.”
Jo cocks her head at me askance, surveying my face. As much as I am trying to put Chris behind me and be happy, I am sure there’s still signs of anxiety on my face. In any case, Jo knows me too well to be fooled by my façade.

“I know exactly what you need,” she takes me by the arm and pulls me into the kitchen, where she proceeds to pour me a large glass of red wine. “And you, ma’am, can be my designated door opener and guest welcomer,” she adds as she hands me my drink. I take a large, grateful sip.

“Who else is coming?” I ask her. The past few times we’ve had dinner, it has been small, intimate parties. I am surprised to hear that it’s a big blowout today.

“Well, besides Fatma-,”

“Oh?” I cock an eyebrow. “Is she feeling better now?” I haven’t spoken to Fatma since I found myself in the middle of the drama with her, Steve and Louise.

“Yes, she misses you too,” Jo says somewhat sarcastically. I shrug like I really don’t care – and if I keep myself well lubricated on this wine, that just might end up being true in a short while.

“Who else?”

“A bunch of people you don’t know,” she says, just as her doorbell rings. “That’s your cue,” she prods, since I seem to clearly have forgotten, so engrossed am I in the contents of my glass.

“Oh, yes,” I say, setting the glass down and heading over to the front door. I open it and – there’s Fatma, who seems as stunned to see me as I was a few seconds ago when I heard she would be joining us.

“Well… you look nice,” she says finally, as we stand there staring each other down combatively.

I roll my eyes. “Jo is waiting for you in the kitchen,” I turn around and stomp off. I am suddenly in a very bad mood. Fatma hesitates a little before following me. The tension between us is thick as fat loaf of bread.

“Are you two ladies playing nice with each other?” Jo asks as she walks over to Fatma and gives her a long hug.

We both look away.

“Oh, come on. Don’t ruin the vibe tonight. Go on. Kiss and make up.” I roll my eyes again.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset with me. I’m the one who got hurt,” Fatma points out softly. In that moment, my heart melts.

“Aww, come here,” I say warmly, stretching out my hands to one of my closest friends of many, many years. She reaches out too, and I have to admit – her hugs feels like home.

“There you go,” Jo beam as she glows at us. “We are officially back together again. Now let the party begin.”