No More Guilt Trips

Fiction Editor, Gaynor Sometimes we need to stop talking blame, as this thoughtful story shows.

- Glynis Scrivens

Leah’s voice has that tone in it. My heart sinks. What have I done wrong this time? “Is this a bad time to call?” she asks.

It is, but experience tells me to give her a light answer. Ignore the fact that Daniel’s sitting outside in the car waiting for me to finish locking up our holiday cottage. Luckily, I’ve just finished cleaning the bathroom mirror. I couldn’t leave it looking the way it was. Every time I’ve checked my hair or make-up this week, there’s been a spray of white toothpaste on my reflection.

“You’re an important person in my life, Natalie, so I need to speak up,” Leah says in her serious voice. “It was my 50th birthday last Thursday. I partied the whole week. And I didn’t hear from you.” There’s a pause, calculated to augment my instant feelings of guilt. “Why is that?”

Memory belatedly returns. About seven months ago, she’d said something about turning 50 this year. If only I’d thought then to note it in my diary. Drawn a big asterisk on the day.

Or she could’ve dropped a hint the other week when we took her mother out for a coffee. Was she waiting to see if I’d remember? Just as she’s waiting for me now.

And there’s no easy answer. There never is. My reasons always sound like lame excuses when she’s the one listening to them. I can hear the scepticism in her voice even as I begin the process of mollifying her.

“All I can say is I’m sorry.” And I explain that I’ve had shingles this past month and am under par. That’s why I needed a week by the ocean. That’s why I forgot.