“It’s OK, isn’t it?”
“Of course. It’s just... I’m so shocked. It’s been years, Jessica.”
What the hell was she doing here? It had been over a decade. She laughed again behind her hand, and the gesture located and unlocked another dormant memory. Jessica always laughed behind her hand as she thought her teeth were too pointy.
“Mad, isn’t it? We’re in our thirties. Thirties! And, oh my God, Fern,” she gestured to me with her dainty hands. “Look at you. Look at all this. I’m so proud.”
She was here. In my life, saying she was proud, like nothing had happened. It was so jarring to see her, and yet her presence also felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like finding an old, forgotten pair of shoes that you hadn’t worn in years. She’d aged a decade in a moment, and I drank in her new appearance, adding in her wrinkles as though I’d put her face through one of those aging apps. She still had the perfect dewy skin I’d lusted after, but it was lined now, especially around the corners of her eyes. There was a slight puffiness to her jawline, a dryness to her dark hair from dye to cover the grays. But Jessica was still stunning. Stunning and perfectly put-together. She wore a hot-pink coat covering dark blue ripped jeans tucked into a gorgeous pair of boots. The outfit, as always, was simultaneously mature, sophisticated, individualistic, effortless, and stylish. And I was a teenager again. Feeling blobbish and frumpy—with my dank hair, potato-shaped head, and stodgy old jumpsuit.
But Jessica seemed oblivious to her win in the who-has-aged-best competition. She must still be used to it, I thought bitterly. Amazed at how my adolescent jealousy could reignite so instantly. Instead she was staring around the packed theater, spellbound by the scale of the event.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I’m just chairing.”
“Fern, there’s like, a thousand people here.”
“Yeah, but they’re not here for me.”
“Well I’m determined to be impressed, so there.” She grinned again, forgetting to cover it, and I caught the smile, grinned back. Forgetting myself for a second. That energy pull was still there, as potent as the first day I met her. Our bond plastering over this awkward and unexpected reunion. We hadn’t spoken in years; we hadn’t spoken about why we weren’t speaking.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” I said.
“You sure you don’t mind? I couldn’t tell if it was creepy or not. I got so excited by surprising you that it only occurred to me this could be totally intense and weird about ten minutes ago, when you were talking to that girl who wouldn’t go away.”
“Oh my God. She really, really, wouldn’t go away!” I said. Was it creepy? It was certainly a shock.
“At one point, I thought she might superglue herself to your face.”
“I had my finger on the panic button.”
“So, it’s not weird?”
I smiled, despite myself. “Not at all.” And I was so lost in the crashing waves of nostalgia, that it took me a moment to remember where I was and what she’d done. All that mattered was Jessica’s face, Jessica’s pointed smile, Jessica’s essence, Jessica’s approval. A wild shriek from Stacy’s table ripped me from it, and we both twisted in her direction. The influencer was squealing with delight at a present a fan had made her. A giant papier-mâché bust of Stacy’s face.
“Oh my Lord, you made THIS for ME? I love it, LOVE it. OH MY GOD WE HAVE TO GET A VIDEO.”
The bust-maker sobbed with joy as Stacy beckoned her around to her side of the table for a hug. She proceeded to get multiple selfies of her, her sculptor, and her bust “for the socials,” and the young woman quivered in starstruck delight.
Jessica and I turned back to one another and shrugged. “Umm, do you want to go somewhere?” I asked, unsure of her motives again.
Jessica glanced at an expensive wristwatch, and that was the first time I got a sense of her having money. “I’m not sure I have enough time for to go out for a proper drink.”
“Oh...”
“I mean, I’d love to. But I have to get a train back. My mum’s babysitting, but I’ve been in the city all afternoon and I don’t want to take the piss.”
“Babysitting?”
Jessica broke into another unhidden grin. “Of course! God it’s been so long. Yes, I’ve got a daughter. She’s almost seven.”
“Seven?”
“Bridget.”
“You have a daughter?”
“It’s mad, isn’t it? She’s great. You’ll love her.”
I shook my head. “You’re a mum? I can’t believe I didn’t know... That’s amazing.” I blinked away a memory of Jessica chopping up a gram of cocaine with her battered Halifax debit card with the concentration of a Swiss clockmaker. “Well, if you don’t have time to go to a pub, do you just want to go to the green room?” I asked. “There’s booze there. I definitely need a drink.” The words fell from my mouth and then I couldn’t take them back.
“Wow, the green room. Do I need a pass or something?”
I laughed. “Not at all. Come on.”
“Don’t you need to stay on the stand?” Jessica asked, glancing back as I wove her around the endless snake of Stacy fans.
“I think people can pick up their own promotional key rings.” I pushed us through the stage door and led Jessica around the maze of darkened corners. “Right, here it is. There’s at least wine.”
“I can’t believe I’m in an actual green room.”
I watched my old friend marvel at this ordinary table filled with ordinary things, as if they were made of gold. It was quiet and empty, staff busy attending to Stacy outside. It still didn’t seem real she was there. After days, months, years of absolutely nothing. I poured myself a large glass of red, holding up the bottle.
“A million times yes,” Jessica nodded. “Is it free?”
“It’s free, yeah.”
“I still can’t believe your life.” She took the fishbowl of merlot I handed her and perched on a chair, as if someone might ask her to leave at any moment.
“I still can’t believe yours. You’re a mother.”
She grinned again. “Do you want to see pictures? I try really hard not to be that mum who bombards you with unwanted photos, but, well, do you want to see?”
“Of course. Gimme gimme.” I beckoned her phone over, chucking some wine down my throat to prepare myself for the confirmation that Jessica had reproduced. Preparing myself for the inevitable deep conversation we needed to have, wondering why she was delaying it. She smiled again as she swiped through the candidates, then proudly held up an image of the most unusual and beautiful child I’d ever seen, jolting me out of my apprehension.