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The decay of our relationship passes in fast-forward mode before my eyes.

I was grateful that neither Mum nor Dad ever voiced their true thoughts about Johan. Dad was vigilant, feeling responsible. Mum had that leave that loser look I had experienced when I brought home boyfriends who were bound to break my heart. When Johan asked me to move in with him, they never suggested I shouldn’t, only that I gave it some thought.

Now, all these years later, I still ask myself why I allowed Johan’s hoovering. Why I let the illusion of potential carry me away. Had Ada been in my place, I would shred the asshole to pieces, especially after learning the hard way how much effort it takes to bounce back, how difficult it is to trust someone when your confidence has been meticulously chipped away.

If every single moment of toxicity was the price for having my two miracles, so be it. And yet… If only I hadn’t fallen for Johan’s narcissism… If only Wanda wouldn’t be a bitch… If my babies could have a dad, instead of having to defend themselves against the Mennos of this world… If Luuk was close by… If he shared my feelings… If there was no danger of losing our friendship, him.

‘What’s your opinion on potential?’ I ask the ladies later on, sipping my Mai Tai, Lola’s favorite, ordered because she has to stay with sick Kalvin, who most probably got Otto’s virus.

‘Pretty much like yours,’ Bea replies. ‘My worst let-downs have come from potential. This illusion of waiting for something that could be, but never becomes.’

‘Absolutely,’ Dory seconds. ‘It takes a few let-downs when online dating to become an expert in spotting and eliminating the never-will-be ones. So, yes, not chasing the potential with David was a good call, if that’s what we’re talking about.’

‘Lola would definitely agree,’ Bea adds. ‘There’s something to be said about missed potential, if your kid’s dad decides that parenthood is too heavy shortly after becoming a parent.’

‘At least yours is dead.’ Dory immediately brings her hand to her mouth, the colour of her face crimson. ‘My God, Corrie, I didn’t mean it to come out like that.’

Bea looks amused. ‘Filter much? You’re worse than me sometimes.’

I burst out laughing, probably a reaction to all the overthinking about Johan’s toxicity. My body’s shaking, tears start running down my cheeks, and soon my abdominals start hurting, but it just goes on and on. Until it finally recedes, leaving me panting, the tears of mirth turning into proper ones. It takes a few moments for Bea and Dory to realise the shift. When they do, Bea leans to wrap me in a hug.

‘What’s going on?’

Dory gives my hand a squeeze from across the table. ‘I’m sorry for the mess I caused.’

I pause for a moment, lifting my head from Bea’s shoulder. ‘It’s not your fault,’ I say, pulling air through my stuffy nose. ‘It was actually funny. A bit dark, but funny. And true.’

‘Something else happening?’ Bea searches my eyes for answers.

I heave a breath and let it out as if getting rid of a sandbag on my chest. ‘No… Yes… I guess it was accumulated tension that needed to come out…’

‘So you’re not cursing the day the Starbucks guy got our orders mixed?’ Dory asks, as if waiting for the verdict on our friendship.

‘What bugs me is that I still get glimpses of Johan; it’s as if he still has a hold on my life. The day you and I met was one of the best. Minus that concoction you call coffee.’

Besides our friendship, that day also marked the beginning of endless jokes about our names and Dory’s double-shot, syrupy soy milk latte, that makes one’s teeth fall out due to the extra sugar she adds. But boy, was that the best mistake ever, gaining me a friend when I was at one of my lowest points after yet another fight with Johan where my chubbiness was brought up, always a joke I would overreact to. Dory was frustrated about a date with a guy she met online, who proved to be a no-show. Once the coffee mistake was sorted out, we started chatting.

Our meetings were spotty at first, with Johan—or worrying about Johan—taking over my time, when I wasn’t working, back when production assistant was my job description and my hours were fairly irregular. Following his death and my life being turned upside down right before that with the pregnancy, things changed radically. I was available more often, and Dory would happily join me for coffee, always bringing a container or two with food I craved, according to the wish list she deftly dragged out of me.

‘The perks of having a caterer for a friend.’ She would shrug off my thanks.

After Otto and Ada came home and my hands were full, despite my parents’ help, Dory organised a weekly meal service. ‘It’s selfish, really. I’m making sure one of my few friends in this city will stay alive,’ she’d say, whenever I felt I was taking advantage of her.

Now Bea barks out a laugh. ‘Dory’s so-called coffee should be marked with the skull-and-bones symbol. It’s lethal!’

Dory shrugs. ‘Nobody’s perfect. But Corrie…it’s only human to hope and invest in the future. What isn’t nice is for someone to let you invest in that future, only to pull the carpet from underneath your feet every chance they have, just to keep you on your toes.’

I nod, and Bea unknowingly yanks me out of my sad bubble. ‘How about we focus on what can be? We see some Yee-haws in your future, and we’re dying for them to happen again and again!’

It’s my turn to turn crimson, putting aside the thought that I might end up losing it all.

Chapter twenty-one

2020

Luuk

‘That was pretty good,’ Gordon says, when our usual online routine of the past few months comes to an end.