We'd known one another for years. She was my greatest friend, always there for me, and I for her. We had climbed the trees of childhood, we had skinned our knees on the gravel of puberty and we had together stood uncertainly in the bars of studenthood.

We'd "played house" as children, hiding from our parents in the garden shed as we explored both the boundaries of life, and each others' underpants. We had obliged one another with brief, fascinated, giggling glimpses of breast and burgeoning pubes, and we'd held hands in romantic style as we weaved through college corridors.

Throughout those years we exchanged kisses. Embarrassed at first, yes, then inquistive, then caring. But never passionate.

We never imposed, but rather allowed one another to share everything. We walked into bedrooms with never a knock, never a question. Nothing to hide, each of us ever pleased to see the other, we never erected barriers, but came and went without let or hindrance. We were almost inseparable.

But still as friends. Only as friends. So much was unspoken, so much unsaid, so much taken for granted. I knew she loved me, and knew that one day, one day...



She lived down the road. I went to return a CD. I forget which one. I walked to the flat, let myself in. The music was on, her bedroom door open. I walked in, to see her on the bed. Naked.

Naked, and in someone else's arms. I stood, shocked, speechless, forgotten CD forgotten in my hand. No more "let's pretend"...

"I thought you loved me..."

I shall never forget her reply, or my feeling of loss, as I finally grew up.


A nodeshell challenge from Trina

I normally understood, normally. My Brother left home when I was only Thirteen, I wasn't happy about it. I had always been with him, He wasn't always nice to me but he was best friend. He had a always had a dream of joining the little green army men, it was difficult without him.

My Sister left when I was Fourteen, she was a hard headed woman. I still miss her now. When we were growing up she must have felt alone, we never played wit her . I do feel bad about that.

When I was sixteen my father left. I must have left my soft, gooey centre in my other pair of pants, I really didn't care. Over the past couple years we really started to fall out. It came to blows once.

The next few years worked out really well. Mum and me really bonded, it was great. Would sit up late talking about all kinds of stuff, She would tell me about the stupid patients she saw that day. We very well may have been, closer than any other Mother and Son.

A new Ophthalmic Consultant started at my Mothers ward. Well one thing leads to another, and it wasn't too long before most mornings I would come down to the kitchen and find him making coffee. I don't know whether it was because he was a successful Doctor and I was a Barman, but we never seemed to click.

Still, by now I was staying more nights a week at my Girlfriends house than at home, no need to antagonize my Mum over this Asshole. It was early doors and I was finished for the day, I went home and in the hall were my bags and most of my things. Blood shaking my heart, I looked up. My Mum was standing there, with a loving smile only a Mother could wear

"What’s going on?" I asked, with perhaps a small shake in my voice.
"Its time for you to fly the nest dear" she replied still wearing that warm all encompassing smile. She had packed my stuff for me because he thought it might be to emotional for me to do. By now he had appeared and had put his arms around her. "But..." I lost it. I screamed at her, accused her of not loving me any more and taking this asshole's side, of being manipulated by him. I was unkind.

Strange things that don't seem to make sense, through all of my tantrum, I never noticed the smile disappear once. "Its time for you to finish growing up, I told you I love you, Now get out, and leave your key sweet, David needs it".

I never missed growing up, while I was growing up, but now...

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