Happier Than She's Ever Been... by Menna van Praag Page A

other intimately, but you haven’t asked about me, how I’m feeling, for so long. And I can’t remember the last time we made love.’
    â€˜Don’t be silly,’ May said. ‘It was only, only last…’
    â€˜Yes?’ Ben said, triumphant. ‘When?’
    â€˜Oh, for goodness sake, is sex all that matters?’ May stopped pacing, put her palms on the table and stared at Ben, her face flushed with fury. Deep, deep down she knew she was being unreasonable and Ben had a point, but that only made her more angry. ‘I threw my love and my life away on a man once,’ May cried. ‘I gave up on everything I ever wanted. I made him the whole and entire reason I got up in the morning. And it all went to shit –’
    â€˜Oh, yes.’ Ben sighed. ‘The famous amazing Jake, the guy who fucked you up and left me to pick up the pieces –’
    â€˜Shut up, shut up!’ May shouted, remembering how desperate she’d felt, how hollow and bereft, as though her core, her very sense of self, had unravelled, twisting and contorting itself in a crazy, vain bid to keep hold of Jake. And how, when he’d finally left her, she’d completely fallen apart, feeling completely empty and alone, having lost her love and herself. ‘That was the worst mistake I ever made and I’m not doing it again. Okay? I’m never doing it again!’
    May glared at Ben and he just looked back at her, shocked into silence. Not knowing what else to say or do, May turned and ran out of the room. A moment later Ben heard the front door slam.

    As she stood on the street, her heart racing and tears running down her cheeks, May felt a surge of regret in her heart. She wanted to run back up to Ben and bury herself in his arms. But she was scared too. She really couldn’t bear to make the same mistake with him as she’d made with Jake. She didn’t think her heart would survive being smashed all over again – even though May knew that Ben wasn’t the same as Jake, even though she knew he really loved her, all of her, even when she was being needy and neurotic, no matter what. Rationally she knew that, but, underneath it all, she was still scared.
    So May stood on the street and, not knowing what to do next, just started walking. After about an hour she stopped and looked around. It was a neighbourhood she didn’t know, quite scruffy but almost quaint, with unique boutiques scattered up and down the street. Most of them needed repainting and brightening up a bit, but all in all it felt like a safe place to catch one’s breath, a safe place to stop and think, and a safe place to just be. May walked a few steps and leant against the doorframe of an old sweet shop, no longer trading but still with all its wares in the window: glass jars of SweeTarts, Lemon Drops, Jaw Breakers and Candy Hearts. May stared into the window for a while. Soft memories of childhood delight bubbled up inside her and, for a few forgetful moments, she was seven years old again, gripping her mother’s hand and gazing up over the counter at the array of rainbow colours that greeted her: treats of all shapes and sizes, one of which she would be allowed to choose and consume, with sticky fingers and sugar-coated lips, on their way home.
    May looked up from the window to the faded sign that said ‘Just Sweet Enough’ in long loping letters and creaked in a gust of wind. As she gazed at it May considered whether or not she should carry on walking, but for some reason she wanted to stay. So she sat down on the pavement, among the mess of squashed cardboard boxes and assorted sticky sweet wrappers, still too upset with Ben to care about the dirt.
    Just then a rustling a few feet away made May sit up. A man had emerged from underneath a pile of cardboard boxes. May stared at him, eyes wide. He didn’t look at her, but proceeded to pick specks of lint off his trousers. May glanced