Page 9 of My Killer Blind Date

‘Let’s not talk about her that way,’ says George in a quiet voice, sounding more subdued than I’ve ever heard before. ‘Poor thing has been through enough—’

‘Six months ago,’ snaps Yoli, an accountant with a sleek life and an Instagram following of over fifty thousand. ‘Sorry to seem insensitive, but she doesn’t seem capable of moving on, and it’s—’

‘—sad,’ completes Bix. ‘Not to mention, Georgie Porgie, it can’t be fun to have someone permanently raining on your parade, right? As your big day gets closer?’

‘Well …’ says George, ‘it is tough sometimes. You guys know this is one of the happiest times of my life, but she’s in such a dark place. I’m trying to be a good friend. I even set her up on a date with Arjun’s friend last night. I thought it could be a nice mood boost, but … I guess it didn’t go so well.’

‘I feel sorry for the guy, whoever he was,’ says a new voice, high and plaintive. Amy, a trust fund kid who volunteers at a pet shelter and runs marathons. ‘That downer energy on a date could not be fun.’

‘She needs help,’ says Trish in a brisk, no-nonsense voice. ‘Professional help. If you want my opinion, Margot and Zoe were totally codependent.’

‘And codependent is the nice way to put it,’ says Bix with a knowing laugh.

‘I don’t want to be selfish, but … I just want the old Margot back,’ says George. ‘You know? The one who was full of life and optimism. First Zoe disappears, right before the holidays … then the dentist retires and Margot gets laid off … I’m not saying I blame her for being sad. But it’s like all the good energy has just drained out of her. I want her to start living again, you know?’

‘Let’s be honest about Zoe, though,’ says Yoli. ‘Didn’t we see it coming?’

There’s a pregnant pause before George speaks again. ‘No, no, I know how it sounds, but you’re right. I don’t want to say Zoe was looking for trouble, but …’

My stomach squeezes. I feel like I’m about to throw up.

‘Zoe was a risk-taker,’ says Yoli. ‘She was never satisfied, ever. She liked living on the edge. That’s all there is to it. You guys know I’m all about everyone living however they want to live. But she went one risk too far, and now look what’s happened.’

I don’t even feel myself move, but suddenly I’m tearing the curtain aside and exploding out of the dressing room.

The group freezes as if for a picture, except instead of smiles, their mouths hang open in horror.

‘Margot …’ George takes a step toward me, her cheeks flooded with red. Her hair is perfectly curled, her tweed sheath dress perfectly fitted to her slim frame. Sophisticated, poised, put-together. Zoe’s diametric opposite. ‘I didn’t realize you were—’

‘Please stop, or you’ll just make it worse. I’m going to leave now, and we can just pretend this never happened. OK?’ I look around at them. No one says anything. ‘Have a nice fitting without me.’

I start walking, intending to storm past them, but phew the champagne has gone straight to my head. I stumble on the carpet, yelp and barely right myself before spilling what’s left. No one makes a peep.

On the way through the store, dignity in shreds, I pass Siobhan and offload my champagne glass, this time without breaking stride.

‘Is everything—’ she says.

‘I’ll come back for a fitting another time,’ I mutter as I push out of the store.

The bus stop isn’t far, but I’m not ready to be enclosed. I set off at a brisk stride. It’s too far to walk all the way home, but I have to burn off the anger that’s eating me alive.

I hate what I just heard about Zoe. About me. But what I hate most of all is that, at some level, George and the girls were right.

Zoe and I were totally codependent. The first few years, it felt incredible, like we were twin souls, completely aligned, headed in the same direction, every emotion that beat in her chest beating in mine too. Later, it felt smothering, like there wasn’t space for me to have my own feelings or deviate from the lifestyle we’d always shared.

Maybe it wasn’t an entirely healthy relationship. I know that. I guess it’s ironic that, when she was still alive, I was starting to pull away. But now that she’s gone, I don’t know how to let her go.

*

I’m not ready to answer George’s call – her tenth since I left the bridal shop, by the way – but I make myself do it anyway. She won’t give up. Might as well rip the band-aid off. I’m just toweling my hair after a long, hot shower when I finally answer and set the phone on the sink ledge.

‘Margot?’ she says. Her voice is wobbly.

‘Hey.’ I flip my hair back and hang up the towel.

‘Margot, I’m so sorry. I’ve just been beating myself up ever since you left. Oh my God. I’m the worst! The absolute worst! I totally understand if you don’t want to be my bridesmaid any more! Or see me, ever again!’

I sigh, leave the bathroom, then lie down on the living-room floor, starfish style, the phone on speaker next to my head, wet hair fanned out. I stare up at the ceiling fan. Its rotations are soothing.