one

eight

By Friday I was starting to get a little pissed off. I knew Maeve and I hadn't known each other for long and also that she had a lot going on in her life but not to receive even a basic text still felt a little harsh. It didn't make it any easier that I didn't have anyone I could talk to about it. There's an obvious distinction between being able to sit next to someone and make small talk over lunch and a person you can tell anything to. A lot of the time I think we ask someone how they are as a show of courtesy, rather to get an answer. Maeve, on the other hand, made me want to genuinely know everything about her; the funny stuff that happened when she was six and incapable of being embarrassed, what she had for breakfast that morning, what she was thinking whenever she furrowed her eyebrows in English and why I was so fucking obsessed with her when she clearly didn't give a shit about how I was feeling otherwise she would be in school. Sorry, I take it back, I was more than a little pissed.

...

I walked into English only to find Maeve staring at me, a confused look on her face. I shot over to her and began to speak as fast as I could, desperately demanding her attention "Maeve, what the fuck? Are you okay?". She turned her head slightly and gave me a withering look. "I'm fine, Sophie", she said quietly, not meeting my eyes. Just as I was about to do I don't know what, she gestured at Ms Sands who was watching us talk: "English is gonna start, you better sit down". My face went bright red in a strange mixture of anger and bewilderment and I walked away quickly, desperate to hide the fact tears had started to fill my eyes. It didn't know why I was suddenly so upset but somehow the use of my actual name and the fact she was clearly lying about being okay had pushed me over the edge. 

I ran out of the room, ignoring the now angry look on Ms Sands face and sprinted to the only place I knew would be empty, the asbestos toilets. I breathed in shakily, trying to fight the wall of panic that was pushing down on my airway and began to rock anxiously back and forth, my hands tapping uncontrollably in my lap. The world merged into a confusing blur and the tapping gradually coursed through my body, increasing in both speed and volume as I desperately attempted to relieve some of the choking tension. I tried to slow my breaths, uselessly fighting angry anxiety to get enough oxygen into my body. I don't remember much after that, I never normally do, but I felt the chipped nails digging into my back as a hand gently rubbed my shoulder, my breath began to regulate slowly and someone push my headphones softly into my ears, my music blocking out the consistent noise that seemed to surround me.

What felt like years later I looked up, "hey you okay" Maeve asked softly, "you gave me quite a shock there". I sat up properly, feeling the exhaustion suddenly hit me, and smiled wanly at her "yeah I guess" I shakily ran my hand through my hair, "just tired". She sat down next to me and hugged my shoulder, "do you want to talk about it?" I sighed and met her eyes for a moment, "it's, it used to happen a lot more. I'm just, I've had a really shit few days and seeing you was kind of the final straw". She immediately tensed up, becoming defensive "sorry I'll just go then". "No" I grabbed her so she was leaning against me again "you disappeared and I was so scared I did something wrong and I kept trying to talk to you about it and then I saw you and you were kind of a dick". Maeve looked ashamed "I'm sorry, it's just you left, that night after the party and I thought maybe you didn't want to be around me anymore". "That's bullshit" I interrupted, "I left because I didn't think you would want me there in the morning". Embarrassment flooded Maeve's face and she looked at the floor "well I did" she muttered. "I grinned at her, "sorry I'm going to need to hear that a little bit louder". She rolled her eyes at me "I wanted you to stay", she continued, "and then I found out I was pregnant that morning and the clinic said I needed someone to pick me up and I didn't know who to ask except you, but I still thought you hated me so I've just been embroiled in trying to sort that for the past few days". "Wait hold up", I said, twisting my body round so I was facing her, "you're pregnant?" "Save it" she rolled her eyes, "I know i'm an idiot". I gave her a withering look "what I was going to say was are you going to keep it". Maeve suddenly looked exhausted: "are you free after school to come to the clinic with me?" she pleaded, "i'm just not even close to ready to be a mother yet. It's so selfish I know?" "It's the opposite of selfish to recognise that you're not ready for a kid yet" I shot back, fanatically bent on supporting her "you're protecting the child rather than yourself from the hurt of loosing a baby. It's the right thing to do". A smile tugged at the edge of Maeve's lip "so you'll come with me" she whispered. "Obviously" I grabbed her hand, "we should probably go back to English". 

Back under the watchful eye of Ms Sands, I surreptitiously pulled out my, now crumpled, list of songs for Maeve from my guitar case and, smiling to myself, added a second underneath "Fancy Shoes". 

2. Hate myself - dodie

It was difficult to explain, but I suppose I felt stupid in the lack of response my panicked increase in communication had got. I built a problem neither one of us needed and that made things worse, when if I hadn't doubted myself in the first place, we would have been fine. I guess I wanted to use the song as a reminder that just because Maeve wasn't talking to me at the time, it didn't mean it was actually my fault and over communicating ineffectively was useless. Instead it is better to say less but make sure that what I did say was straightforward and relevant.

I put the piece of paper back in the front pocket of my guitar case and looked over at Maeve. Without even looking up she smiled to herself and gave me the middle finger. I didn't bother hiding the grin that flooded my face, it looked like we were back to normal.