Postcard Revenge

"It just isn't fun anymore Doreen," I sighed, absently stirring my coffee. "When we first met, we had so much fun, he always made me laugh, I never wanted him to go anywhere and now..." I trailed off and stared at my friend, trying not to take too much offense at the disappointment in her eyes.

"You can't just leave him because you're bored," she snapped at me, those green eyes flashing.

"Jesus Christ," I mumbled into my mug.

Doreen had always been Tom's biggest supporter. It no longer came as a shock to me when people thought that they were best friends and I was the outsider, even though she and I were supposed to be soul sisters.

"It's not about being bored," I told her. "It just isn't fun anymore. All we do is fight and scream and ignore each other. It's not even like there is any makeup sex. There's hardly any sex for that matter."

"I thought you said that was more your choice?" she asked.

"I don't know anymore," I said rubbing my eyes and running my hands through my hair. "Everything just feels so forced. Sometimes I think he does not even like me anymore. There's one hundred insults for every one nice thing that comes out of his mouth."

Doreen's phone began to ring. She held up her perfectly manicured finger while she fished it out of her bag. Even though she had to bend down, her immaculately curled and bouncy blonde hair somehow defied gravity and retained its position. As if it was afraid if one strand succumbed to anything less than perfection their owner might execute some complex hair-based torture. She smiled when she saw the name glaring back at her from her phone screen.

"Sorry babe, I've gotta take this," she said, but she did not look apologetic at all. She was practically beaming.

"Oh, the mystery man," I said laughing as she skipped to the bathroom at the back of her favourite hipster coffee shop with names for drinks I didn't understand and the staff that looked at me funny every time I ordered a plain black coffee.

Her brand-new baby pink heels caught slightly on the strap of her bag on the floor and knocked it on its side, but she was in such a hurry to answer her lover's call that she ignored it, moved aside with her foot and hurried on, giggling as she answered.

I don't really know what made me look down. Maybe I was comparing myself to Doreen, checking out my shabby blue jeans and ten-year-old converse to her feminine mystique, but when I did, I noticed that her keys had fallen out of her bag, along with a little black notebook. I picked them up. Of course, I did, what friend would just leave their girl's stuff lying all over the floor? Not this one. I was a good friend. Doreen on the other hand, I was about to discover, was not.

As I took the little black book into my hands, from between its pages there fell a little black and white photo, featuring none other than my dear friend and my dear boyfriend of five years, half naked and cuddling up on the bed Tom and I had bought together when we first started living together. What hurt the most was that I wasn't even surprised. I always thought if I discovered something like this I would cry, but I didn't. Instead, my cheeks flamed and all I felt was anger. Why hadn't he just left me? I flicked through the pages of the book and there were several dates handwritten inside with little notes about each of them. It was a record of their (at a very quick glance) two-year love affair and it was almost full, there were only a few pages left. I felt like I had swallowed lead. Tucked away between the last two pages was a lottery ticket attached to a sticky note that read, "Saw this and thought of us, if we win, we can finally start that new life. Love Tom." Seeing his handwriting was worse than discovering the picture. This love note felt more personal.

I heard the quick click clack of her heels as she made her way back to the table begin to slow as she approached and realised what I was holding in my hand.

"Robin," she said, panic in her voice. "I can explain."

"Why does everyone say that?" I asked, tears coming for the first time. "What the fuck could you possibly say that would explain this?" I asked as I leapt from my seat and rounded on her. "You know, this explains so much."

"Babe I promise you it's just sex, he loves you!" she cried as the other patrons turned to stare at us.

"Just sex?! Is that supposed to make me feel better? And even if that were true then why the hell is leaving you little love notes saying you're going to run away together?" I yelled waving the lottery ticket in her face.

"It was just a joke Robin, I swear it's just a joke," she said sobbing and finally showing herself with ruined makeup.

"Just stay away from me Doreen," I said and started to leave, shoving my hands in the pockets of my oversized hoodie.

Doreen reached out and grabbed at me, stopping me in my tacks.

"Please you have to believe me, we never meant to hurt you," she pleaded.

I pulled my arm from her grasp and stormed out the door, leaving her with her shame and humiliation. She was definitely going to have to find somewhere else to have her morning coffee now.

Unfortunately, my exit was not quite as dramatic as I had hoped because I had failed to realise that it was absolutely pouring from the heavens with rain and I had neither coat nor umbrella and had to scuttle into the little corner shop across the road just to escape it. I'm not sure if she saw where I went but either way, she exercised what little dignity she had left and did not attempt to follow me.

I wandered up and down the cramped aisles of the shop in a state of shock. Contemplating ending your relationship is one thing. Realising that your boyfriend is having an affair with someone you have been friends with since you were using your fingertip to apply blue eyeshadow that you'd pinched from your mother's makeup bag, was quite another.

"Miss, are you alright?" asked an elderly lady from behind the counter. It was then that I realised I had been standing staring at her for indiscernible amount of time. "Are you alright?" she repeated, but her voice was kind.

"Yes, sorry, I said. It's been a long day," I offered as a polite excuse for my behaviour.

"Do you need something in particular?" she asked, dipping her head in that tell-tale way that people do when they can see you're in a bad way, but they don't want to point it out.

I didn't need anything, but I couldn't exactly say that after prowling around her shop for God only knew how long.

"Just a packet of chewing gum please," I told her, snatching up the closest packet to me and pushing it towards her across the counter.

"Are you sure that you don't need anything else?"

Rummaging in my pocket for the change from the coffee I said, "No that's fine thank y..." I stopped as my fingers closed around the lottery ticket and then slowly, I pulled it out. "Would you mind checking this for me?" I asked, handing it over.

"Sure hun," she said smiling. "

Sometimes things just run across your mind and as I stood there watching the cashier check my ticket, I had one of those little thoughts. Wouldn't it be a little more than perfect if I won?

"Oh my God," she exclaimed suddenly mouth agape. "Oh my God."

"What? What is it?" I asked trying to lean over the counter so I could see what she was looking at.

"You've just won $20'000," she said.

If my eyes could have popped out of my head, they would have, and trust me when I tell you that I felt them trying to.

****

I packed up my stuff and I left that night. Tom was screaming and shouting and begging me to stay while I packed up my bags and refused to break breath to him. Preferring to treat him as if he didn't even exist. He got down on his hands and knees and professed his undying love for me as I walked out the door and left him behind.

Three months later I sent each of them a postcard from London where I'd used their love affair lottery ticket to set myself up in a fabulous apartment and found the job of my dreams. They read, "Saw this and thought of me and how much I'm loving my new life."