She was visiting her friend.
She had known her a long time. At school they had been the best of friends. After a kiss and a hug, her friend said she’d put the kettle on. From the armchair in the lounge the visitor called out, “And little Johnny?”
“With the ex,” she called back from the kitchen.
She came back with two cups, saying, “That’s not exactly true.”
She puts the cups down on the table and flops into the chair opposite. She sits quietly for a moment, then says, “He’s with the man who used to work in his uncle’s hardware store.”
She stared out of the window for a moment.
“The man who smiled at me,” she went on, “the smile that stayed with me through those long days before I met him again.” She smiled softly. “The man who kept inviting me out to the pictures, so many cinemas, so many films. The man who one day admitted he was only doing it so he could spend time with me. The man who said he wanted to be with me, forever. The man who once loved me.”
Her eyes watered. She sipped at her drink and returned her cup with a trembling hand.
“The man I married in the church not far from here,” she continued. “The man that said that giving him a son was the best thing anyone had ever done for him.” Her head shook, and a look of desperate misery came over her. She looked across at her friend, who was still sitting silently.
She wiped tears away and said in a weak voice, “He, who wanted to visit the local pub more often than me. Who took to drinking at home, who lost control of his drinking habit, who lost his job, who would get so angry. The man who broke my tooth. The man who broke my heart.”
She forced a grimace. “That’s who he’s with.”
Her friend lifted her cup slowly and said, “Right.”