although Christie had other, more mature
friends now. The two of them had shared some fun times, and many
hours with Sarah Jane crying her heart out when she had been
dumped. She always found Christie a good shoulder to cry on, and
Christie was a good listener, never judging.
“I’m really not feeling up to this,” Christie
said.
“Nonsense, it will do you good,” said Sarah Jane,
helping herself to a glass of wine from the fridge. “It’s time you
got over your soldier boy.”
“I still can’t believe he stopped writing,” said
Christie. It had been three weeks now since she had heard from him.
The last time she had written back to him she had implied she would
love them to meet when he started his leave, obviously this had
overstepped the line of their relationship and she had never had a
reply.
“Probably for the best, it’s all very well writing to
each other, but it’s just fantasy isn't it? I mean when you meet in
the flesh it would be, well, different.” Sarah Jane took another
large swig from her glass.
“What do you mean, different?” Christie asked.
“Well, he’s a young, fit soldier,” Sarah Jane said,
sounding a little worse for wear already.
“And?” Christie wanted to know what Sarah Jane
actually meant.
Her friend stood looking at Christie, her critical
frown telling Christie all she needed to know. “You're probably not
his type.”
“Not his type,” Christie repeated.
“No.” Another gulp of wine.
“And who exactly is my type?” Christie asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, but a soldier just back from
Afghan would want someone a little fitter, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think. Not everyone is like you, Sarah
Jane, some of us look a little deeper than what's on the outside.”
Christie was on the defensive now, hurt by what her friend thought
of her.
“Yes, well some of us are more fortunate than
others.” She threw her head back and downed the rest of the wine in
the glass. “Right, are we ready to go?”
Christie stood speechless, looking at Sarah Jane,
then, trying to keep her voice steady, she said, “No, we are not
ready to go.”
“But you'll make us late; you'll have to pay for a
taxi at this rate.” Sarah Jane left the empty wine glass on the
side and now stood pouting in the mirror, refreshing her lip
gloss.
Christie knew she would end up paying for it anyway,
she always did. For the first time she looked at Sarah Jane and
realised she wasn’t a real friend at all. They had grown apart and
Christie no longer wanted her as a friend, because friends didn’t
speak to each other like that.
“I think you should go, Sarah Jane,” said Christie
picking up the dirty glass and moving towards the sink.
“You're not coming?”
“No, I am going to have a quiet night in.”
Sarah Jane looked like a petulant child. “That will
make a nice change for you,” she said nastily. Grabbing her bag she
headed for the door. “And to think I felt sorry for you,” she said
as she slammed it behind her.
Christie stayed where she was, too shocked to move.
There really must be something wrong with her, first Marcus, and
now Sarah Jane.
No, that was being unfair, Sarah Jane was not a real
friend, but Marcus, she had really thought there was something
special between them, but she had seriously misjudged him. Now she
felt stupid about all the things she had shared, with a stranger,
in her letters. His replies had seemed so genuine, Christie now
assumed she had been his entertainment while he was away, the sad
woman who wrote to strangers.
Groaning inwardly she suddenly had an awful thought,
what if he had shared her letters with his army mates? Well
hopefully they had a good laugh at her expense.
Feeling sad, Christie went to the bathroom and wiped
all her make up off. She then headed to her bedroom and got into
her comfy sweats, chocolate and a movie seemed in order. Drawing
the line at a rom com which would only make her more miserable she
settled for a
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