Once upon a time a woman with a death sentence sat on a bench in Battersea Park. She was about 32, well padded without being fat, in her favourite top and jeans. The top was Spanish Gray from which a screen print of Hello Kitty attempted to cheer the world. She didn\u2019t look like someone with a death sentence.<\/p>\n
Next to her sat a somewhat fatter woman in jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt blowzily and silently protesting at the too-warm Spring sunshine. \u201cSo tell me Claudette,\u201d she said, giving her companion her best deep searching look, \u201chow are you really<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n Claudette sighed with ire, as she always did, and attempted to address the question. \u201cTo be honest I just feel like I\u2019m getting weaker and weaker every day,\u201d she said. \u201cI mean my right arm doesn\u2019t work proper, doing ironing with my left is really hard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s nice,\u201d Sal said, distracted, thinking wish I\u2019d never asked. \u201cYou got MS girl, what do you expect?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo\u201d Claudette said with an irritated sigh, \u201cand how are you?\u201d<\/p>\n As she had expected, Sal proceeded on her usual moan. She had married her long-term partner Meggan three months ago and ever since the wedding they had not stopped arguing. So every jot and titter, every plot and piffle, every clot and conflict was unwrapped, unrolled and revealed to be evidence of Megan\u2019s always being at fault.<\/p>\n \u201cSo why don\u2019t you just up and go?\u201d Claudette asked as usual.<\/p>\n \u201cDarling girl!\u201d Sal said (as usual) we\u2019re married now! You don\u2019t just walk out on a marriage!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell me something,\u201d Claudette said she had decided once and for all to try to break the pattern of their habitual ritual. \u201cDo you even like Meggan?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPardon?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo really darling, do you even like her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSurely that\u2019s a stupid even ridiculous question. It\u2019s like – it\u2019s like me asking you, Claudette, do you like your MS?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat!\u201d Claudette was enveloped with contrasting desires. One, she wanted to punch her friend very hard on the nose. Two, she wanted to burst out into loud sardonic laughter. \u00a0The third alternative was to get up and go.<\/p>\n “Hear me out” Sal said, a hand on her friend\u2019s forearm. “Let\u2019s be honest,” she said, “Meggan is a Narcissist. Not metaphorically – literally. Clinically.”<\/p>\n “Now just wait a minute – ”<\/p>\n “Yeh – lissen. I Googled it. Self-obsessed, self-centred to the extent she never listens to anyone – ”<\/p>\n “Hm!” Claudette almost hrumphed. Thinking, takes one to know one.<\/p>\n “No real empathy. Lies all the time. Always has to prove she\u2019s better than anyone else. Boasts continually. Always point scoring.”<\/p>\n “Like Trump.”<\/p>\n “Eggggzackky!”<\/p>\n “So answer me again. Why don\u2019t you get rid of her? Walk out?”<\/p>\n “So you answer me. Why don\u2019t you walk out on your MS?”<\/p>\n “Fuck OFF Sal! Do you think I wouldn\u2019t if I could?” She was close to tears.<\/p>\n “And do YOU think I wouldn\u2019t if I could?”<\/p>\n The friends sat there silently seething at each-other for three deep minutes.<\/p>\n “So what is it then,” Claudette finally ventured. “Explain why you\u2019re with her!”<\/p>\n “Yehhh don\u2019t think I haven\u2019t asked myself a million times,” she sighed. “You seen her. You seen how she likes to show me up in public. You seen how she always takes control when we go anywhere. You seen – ”<\/p>\n “So answer the fucking question Sal!”<\/p>\n “You see, she\u2019s let me in – ”<\/p>\n “I don\u2019t want to know about your sex-life!” Claudette attempted to joke.<\/p>\n “Be serious gal. See, only I know why she is as she is. I met her evil controlling parents who made her childhood a misery. Always putting her down. Challenging her. Badmouthing her.”<\/p>\n “So? No one I know had an easy childhood.”<\/p>\n “Did you know she\u2019s dyslexic?”<\/p>\n “That\u2019s no big deal these days – ”<\/p>\n “It was when she was growing up. See in those days people called her stupid. Like her teachers. Always going on at her. And see, she knew they were wrong. She just couldn\u2019t see how to spell things”<\/p>\n “Ok, so?”<\/p>\n “So! So she had to prove to herself. And to her teachers. And to her parents. All the time. And cry every night.”<\/p>\n “So that gives her the right to always put people down? The way she puts you down in public all the time? The way she put me down when we went out that time? How can you live with that?”<\/p>\n “She\u2019s not like that when we\u2019re together alone! Believe me!”<\/p>\n “I don\u2019t believe you,” Claudette said. “I\u2019m sorry. I just don\u2019t like her. I understand she\u2019s part of you. But she\u2019s just killing you Sal, she\u2019s killing that fun girl I went to uni with – ”<\/p>\n They both stared into a clump of trees. For a while. Simultaneously they took a deep breath.<\/p>\n “See????” Sal said finally. “See?????”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Alone and together they wept.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Once upon a time a woman with a death sentence sat on a bench in Battersea Park. She was about 32, well padded without being fat, in her favourite top and jeans. 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