The Fuzzy End of the Lollipop

The Fuzzy End of The Lollipop : Chapter Six

The next day Sally tried her hardest to avoid Maya but before she could take off her coat she came bounding up to her as though nothing had happened.

"Hey, Clyde said you had a bit of a wild one the other night."

Sally grimaced, "It was nothing, just a few drinks."

"He said you went dancing?"

"Yeah, for a bit."

"He must have been really drunk, I have never seen him dance in my life." Not knowing whether Maya was blaming or commending her, Sally stayed silent. "I ask him to come dancing with me and my sister all the time," Maya added, "but he never comes. Says he only goes dancing in Spain." Again, Sally did not know what to say so she smiled and tried to walk away.

Maya caught her arm, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am fine," Sally lied, quickly stepping out of reach.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine." Sally said briskly as she turned away from her and walked towards the kitchen. She did not dare look back. Maya's face would have broken her heart. 

From then on two girls politely ignored each other. They said good morning and goodbye but their long chats about films and books were replaced with a mutual silence that hung heavily over both of them.

At first, Sally was relieved. She had planned to keep her distance and was pleased when Maya stepped back without any confusion or push back. It was easier this way. They could remain colleagues and forget all about the bosom buddy nonsense Sally had been pining for. After all, she was an adult now and should know better than to idolise something as trivial as a picture-perfect best friend.

But this hardened rationalisation only lasted a little over a week before Sally's defences started to bend. She longed for things to go back to the way they were but these cravings did nothing to stop her desire to flee. The feeling continued to overwhelm her but she had no idea why.

If anyone had treated her mum like that Sally would have been horrified. What made Maya any different? The noble and self-righteous part of her wished she could go back in time and change the way she had acted, but her true self wanted to stay as far away from Maya as possible.

On the days when Sally missed Maya the most, she would try to persuade herself to rethink her decision. Before she had known about Maya's antidepressants she had been drawn to her slow and calm demeanour and never once associated her actions with someone who was mentally ill. On the contrary, Maya seemed to be the most grounded and tranquil person she had ever met. How could someone with so much serenity need medication? Of course, she knew people who were mentally ill were not identified by their straight jackets and upended hair. It was far more complex than that but she continued to look for something broken, a telltale sign, that Maya's mask was about to slip.

Sally observed her mum in exactly the same way; always watchful, always ready but the connection between Maya and her mum remained unrecognised. If she had seen it, then maybe she could have understood that Maya's honesty was not a plea for help. It was a catalyst that forced her to assume the role of caregiver and protector even though neither was warranted nor asked for. If she had been more aware, then maybe she could have pushed past her fears, but she remained clueless and continued to hide under the assumption that she was better off alone. Ironically, both girls missed each other terribly, but neither of them were prepared to do anything about it. Sally was too terrified, Maya was too hurt and both of them were too busy raging out a battle of "what ifs" in their head.

"Is there something going on with you and Maya?" asked Katja after a shift.

Sally shook her head, shocked that anyone cared enough to ask, "No, nothing is going on."

"Looks like you two had a fight," added Marta.