Page 66 of Isn’t It Nice We Both Hate the Same Things
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
One thing I’ve always found remarkable about Dave is how easily he forgets juicy information.
He could be with the boys all day, come home, say it was fine but then later that night, on the verge of falling asleep, he’ll say, ‘Did I tell you Emmanuel is considering plastic surgery on his biceps? Did I tell you Cinar wants to trek to Everest Base Camp? Did I tell you Shaun’s got a troubling mole on his elbow and Josie’s nicknamed it Molar Bear? ’
And so, when we’re in the doctor’s office waiting for my cast removal and Dave tells me he has news , and that he only found out five minutes earlier in a text message from Josie, I know it’s going to be good.
And when he says it’s shocked him, and that he cannot believe it, I know it’s going to be really good.
‘They’ve split.’
‘Who?’
‘Josie and Shaun,’ he says, staring down at his phone. Complete shock written across his face. ‘They’ve split.’
‘Holy—’
‘I know.’
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did Shaun leave her?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Has one of them moved out?’
‘I don’t know.’
I point at his phone. ‘Well, find out. What do you mean you don’t know?’
‘She just texted me.’
‘Have you replied?’
‘Not yet. It feels personal,’ he says. ‘It is personal.’ Then looks at me as if to say, You remember, don’t you ?
‘Call her after this. Check she’s okay.’
‘Yeah all right.’ Then he nudges me, grabs my attention. ‘What makes you think Shaun left? Josie could have left.’
‘Josie’s the one who messaged,’ I say. State it like it’s a fact. An easily understandable piece of information.
‘And?’
‘When I left you, how did the group find out?’
Dave sits back. ‘Ah.’ Because he messaged them all. Because he was devastated, and shocked, and needed comfort from his friends.
‘We should go see Josie,’ he says. ‘I’ll call her, find out where she is. And then we should go see her.’
‘And Shaun,’ I add.
He looks at me and frowns, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him.
‘And Shaun,’ I repeat. And then, when he says nothing, I continue. ‘Why do we do that? Pick sides.’
‘I’m not picking a side.’
‘You’re picking a side.’
He splutters a little, lost. ‘I’m no— I don—’ Then he straightens. ‘I’ve been friends with Josie since high school.’
‘And she’s been with Shaun for six years.’
He extends his hands, as if grabbing at air. ‘Am I not supposed to go see her?’
‘You’re not supposed to forget about Shaun.’
‘Who says I was?’
‘You did. Just now,’ I say. ‘I’ve seen this before. At Josie’s birthday, and our coffee date. In those group messages, and Diego running away from me at the mechanic. The little fuck.’
Dave chuckles. ‘That was a bit funny.’
‘I was heartbroken. I considered keying his car.’
‘His car is trash. Keying it would’ve improved it.’
Outside the doctor’s office, we hear staff making an almighty fuss about a crashed IT system. Someone pops their head in to tell us it won’t be long, and then we’re alone again.
‘Promise me you’ll go see Shaun—’
He groans, running his hands down his thighs. ‘Will you drop this if I promise?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I promise I’ll go see Shaun. I’ll call him. And I won’t run away from him if I see him outside the mechanic.’ He throws me a look – salty and frustrated. Are you happy now ?
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Christ.’
‘You’re going to cut that poor man out. All of you.’
He looks at his watch. ‘How much longer is this going to take?’ he says, then reads Josie’s text again. ‘If I knew this was going to be such a trigger for you, I wouldn’t have said anything.’
And then both our phones light up with an alert. A new group chat has been created, by Emmanuel, titled Have you heard? There are five of us in it – Emmanuel, myself, Dave, Cinar, Diego.
Emmanuel : holy shit
Cinar : Cannot believe it
Emmanuel : saw it coming
Diego : You did not
Cinar : Do we know what happened?
Emmanuel : she’s not answering her phone
Emmanuel : we should see her
I turn to Dave. ‘See? Picking sides.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘We’re not picking sides.’ He punches out a message into the group.
David : We should go see Shaun too. Has anyone heard from him?
Diego : I wonder if Josie will keep the house
Emmanuel : no way she’s letting him stay there if he’s left
Cinar : How do we know he left
Emmanuel : you don’t remember the dinner party?
‘Funny,’ I say, leaning over Dave’s phone. ‘It almost looks like … they’ve ignored you?’
He appears ashamed, not meeting my eye, his jaw hardening.
Cinar : Still no answer from Josie. Hope she’s okay
Diego : Should we send something?
Emmanuel : anyone got those recipes from when we cooked for dave?
Emmanuel : sorry for the reminder, dave
Dave : your cooking is shit, don’t make that stuff for Josie
Emmanuel : you cook then. now that your beard is gone and you’re washing your clothes again
Dave is silent beside me, then puts his phone away. Group chat gone, all communication ceased. Too close to home, being reminded of that time. He might be in a better place – we might be communicating again – but it’s still incredibly raw for both of us.
‘They cooked for you?’
A moment’s pause, and then Dave nods. ‘Yeah.’
‘But they’re—’
‘Terrible at it. I know.’ He straightens, smiling. ‘But I enjoyed the company. You?’
‘I got nothing from them. No messages, no meals. Just an awful conversation at Josie’s birthday, a string of accidental messages, and a coffee date where she tried to find out how things ended.’
He smiles. ‘They tried with me too.’
‘You didn’t tell them about your daughter?’
He stills. ‘No.’
‘You ever will?’
He doesn’t answer.
In my hand, the group chat continues to ping . Message after message, exchanging theories and stories. Talking about Josie like she’s been attacked. Talking about Shaun like he’s the suspect.
‘You think they did this when we split?’
‘Absolutely.’
I do not say anything in the group chat. Do not make a comment about Josie and Shaun, do not indulge them with an opinion on the split. Do not want anything to do with them and their nasty thoughts, their back and forth guesswork about the end of a marriage.
These people are not good people.
‘We’ll visit both,’ Dave says, looking at me. ‘But Josie first.’
‘Okay,’ I reply. ‘Josie first.’