2: A quarrel

The following Saturday, Vesna stopped at the kerb outside the field instead of turning into the car park. The engine idled beneath them, air-conditioning stirring the loose strands around her face while sunlight flashed against the metal gate.

Anaka sat in the passenger seat with one sandalled foot tucked beneath her, sunglasses pushed into her hair. Sen was already leaning towards the window behind her, watching children in green bibs spill across the field.

“Thank you for doing this,” Vesna said, “I need an hour where nobody asks me for anything.”

She’d spent most of Friday bent over her laptop at the magazine, rewriting the same twelve-hundred-word profile after the featured designer objected to being described as commercial, then waiting while three editors debated a cover line that was eventually changed back to the original. By the time she’d left the office, her eyes had felt lined with grit and the muscles between her shoulders had hardened into a knot no amount of twisting at red lights could loosen.

The tiredness remained that morning, dull and heavy behind her forehead. Everything had to be finished before Monday’s deadline, and the thought of trying to work with cartoons playing in the next room had made her want to lower her face directly onto the keyboard.

Anaka turned her head and studied her for a beat, gaze drifting over the faint shadows beneath her eyes, “Perk of being a business owner,” she said, “I can move things around.”

Vesna gave her a tired smile, “You’re very generous, as always.”

“I’d never do it for anyone but you, Ves.” Ana paused, mouth lifting at one corner, “Though... the promise of two weeks of free coffee definitely helps!”

“Ah, of course. We're friends with benefits.”

“It’s still friendship if there are benefits.” she reached across and squeezed Vesna’s forearm, “That's why you’re so rad.”

A click sounded from the back seat and Vesna looked into the mirror just as Sen pulled the seat belt away from his chest. Before she could ask whether he was ready, he pushed open the door and climbed out, dragging his sports bag after him.

“Careful, sweetheart!”

“I know,” he hauled the strap over his shoulder and looked through the gate. His posture was still a little tight, but there was none of last week’s resistance in it, “But Milan’s already there.”

Vesna had prepared herself to coax him out of the car, perhaps bargain with him through another five minutes of uncertainty but instead, Sen shut the door and shifted impatiently on his trainers while he waited for his auntie Anaka.

Pleasant surprise loosened something beneath Vesna’s ribs and Anaka climbed out and leaned back through the open window, “Coolio! We’ve been dismissed!”

Sen was already moving towards the gate and Vesna lowered her window and called, “Stay where aunty Ana can see you!”

He glanced back, nodded once, then hurried ahead as Anaka followed at an easier pace. 

At home, the silence felt almost physical.

Vesna set her laptop on the dining table, opened the profile and worked for the next hour without cartoons, questions or the soft knock of Sen’s water bottle against the furniture. Sunlight moved slowly across the floorboards while her fingers kept pace with the words. By the time her alarm sounded, she’d cleared the remaining edits, answered the editor’s notes and made more progress than she’d managed through most of Friday afternoon.

She saved the document twice, closed the laptop and reached for her keys.

An hour after leaving them, she pulled back into the football-field car park to collect her friend and son.

Sen reached the car first and climbed into the back, cheeks flushed beneath a damp fringe of fair hair while sweat darkened the collar of his green T-shirt, but his eyes were bright, and a small smile still clung to his mouth as he pulled the door shut.

Vesna turned in her seat, “Good session?”

He nodded, already reaching for his water bottle, “I scored twice today!”

Before she could answer, Anaka opened the passenger door and slid inside. The smile Vesna expected wasn’t there. Anaka’s mouth was set, her head held straight instead of tipped carelessly to one side. Even the way she pulled the door closed felt deliberate.

She turned and looked Vesna directly in the eyes, “We need to talk,” she said, “Alone.”

Something cold shifted beneath Vesna’s ribs, “What happened?”

“Bunko; now.” Anaka fastened her seat belt, expression unchanged, “But buy me my coffee first.”

Vesna started the car without another question. Whatever had stripped the ease from Anaka’s face wasn’t something she wanted discussed with Sen listening from the back seat.

She pulled out of the car park and headed towards 'Kora', Anaka’s favourite boutique coffee shop. The late-morning traffic moved slowly beneath the heat, sunlight flashing across windscreens while the air-conditioning pushed cool air against Vesna’s hands.

She glanced across the console, “Ana, what’s wrong?”

Anaka kept her gaze on the road ahead, “Coffee first.”

“Did something happen with Sen?”

“He’s fine.” the answer came quickly, but nothing else followed. Anaka folded her arms and pressed her lips together, every trace of her usual lightness gone.

At Kora, she unfastened her belt and stepped out before Vesna had fully stopped. Through the window, Vesna watched her disappear beneath the striped awning, unease tightening steadily through her stomach.

Anaka returned a few minutes later carrying a lidded paper cup, the scent of dark roast and vanilla slipping into the car with her. She took one measured sip, settled back into her seat and stared ahead.

“Bunko, quick.” she said.

Vesna pulled away from the kerb, and five minutes later, the bright green-and-yellow sign of Sen’s favourite fast-food chain rose above the next junction and he spotted it at once.

“Bunko!” Sen clapped his hands, his earlier reserve vanishing beneath a grin, “We’re having it now?”

“Apparently yes,” Vesna said, glancing at Anaka and Anaka took another slow drink of coffee and offered nothing.

The moment Vesna parked, Sen unfastened his seat belt and scrambled out. He barely waited for them before hurrying through the entrance, his attention fixed on the floor-to-ceiling play structure behind the dining area, all twisting tubes, rope bridges and bright plastic slides.

By the time Vesna and Anaka reached the doors, he’d already disappeared inside it. Vesna pulled one door open and turned, “Ana, will you tell me what’s going on?”

Anaka stopped on the threshold. She took another swig of coffee, lowered the cup and stared at Vesna as though she’d committed a personal betrayal.

“What the hell?” she demanded, “I thought we were friends?”

Vesna blinked, “What?”

“I thought friends told each other things.” Anaka pressed one hand dramatically to her chest as they stepped inside, “Since when did you start hiding things from me? Frankly, Ves, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

Behind the counter, an employee glanced between them, then towards the nearly empty dining area. His expression suggested he wasn’t prepared for either fast-food customers or a friendship crisis this early in the morning.

Vesna caught Anaka by the elbow and pulled her away from the tills, “Can you calm down and just tell me?”

Anaka swayed backwards, one hand rising to her forehead as though the question itself had weakened her. Vesna tightened her grip before she could complete the performance.

“You never thought it was worth mentioning,” Anaka said, recovering just enough to point accusingly with her coffee cup, “that Sen’s coach was that Hot?”

For one suspended second, Vesna only stared at her. Then relief broke through her in a startled laugh making her tip her head back and take a step to steady herself.

Anaka’s eyes widened, “You’re laughing?”

“Of course! I thought something serious happened!”

“This is serious!” she planted her free hand on her hip, “Since when do you hide things from me? I’ve always had exclusive access to every detail of your life!”

Vesna pressed her fingers beneath her eyes to remove the tears gathering there, still catching her breath, “Ana-”

“No,” Anaka lifted the cup between them, “there’s no explaining your way out of this.”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, that’s all.”

Anaka’s eyebrows drew closer, “That’s not the only reason I’m upset.”

Vesna leaned back slightly, “Oh there’s more?”

“You didn’t tell me he liked you.”

“What?”

“Yes,” Anaka set her coffee down on the standing table with a firm tap.

“He asked where Ms. Vesna was, whether Ms. Vesna was all right, and whether Ms. Vesna was out sick.” she held up three fingers, “He said your name three times in the two minutes I spoke to him.”

Vesna stared at her, then shook her head, “But that’s normal concern. I didn’t tell them someone else would be bringing Sen, which was my fault. It’s probably only just protocol.”

“Ves.” Anaka narrowed her eyes, “I know how to tell protocol from genuine interest.”

“You’re looking for something that isn’t there, Ana.” Vesna rolled her eyes and walked towards the till before Anaka could answer. She ordered Sen’s usual meal and two small sides for herself and Anaka, then returned with the plastic beeper balanced in her palm.

“Come on, let's sit somewhere.”

Anaka remained where she was for another second, shoulders stiff with offence, then followed with a small stomp of her sandal. She dropped into a booth and turned her face pointedly towards the windows.

Vesna sat opposite her and placed the beeper between them, “Ana.”

No response.

“Ana, talk to me, please.”

Anaka finally looked back and the playfulness had slipped from her face, “Dude, you never believe me.”

She leaned forwards and struck her index finger against the tabletop, “Tell me, have I ever been wrong?”

Vesna’s mouth parted, but Anaka kept going.

“Was I wrong about your mom pushing you towards the career she wanted? Was I wrong about Sen’s father never appreciating you?” her finger hit the table again, harder this time, “Was I ever wrong? Huh? You tell me.”

The hurt beneath her anger landed more heavily than the dramatics had.

“You never believe me until it’s too late,” Anaka said.

A silence settled between them, broken only by the muffled shrieks from the play area and the low hum of the kitchen behind the counter and Vesna looked down at the untouched beeper.

“Fine,” she said at last, “So what if it were true? How does that change anything?”

Anaka’s brows drew together, but Vesna didn’t give her room to answer.

“It’s been two year since the divorce and this entire year, I’ve gone on every blind date you’ve suggested.” she counted them off against the table with the edge of her hand, “Men who weren’t serious. Men who were perfectly nice until their intentions became clear. And those disgusting ones who heard ‘single mother’ and decided I existed to satisfy some bloody MILF kink.”

Anaka’s mouth tightened at the edges.

“What guarantees coach Valko’s any different?” Vesna asked.

“Nothing guarantees anything,” Anaka leaned forward, “but that doesn’t mean you judge him before you’ve even got to know him.”

Vesna gave a short, humourless laugh, “I spent two years getting back to where I am now. Two years, Ana. I finally feel like myself again so I’m not interested in letting some man come into my life and ruin me all over again.”

Anaka’s expression changed, “He didn’t ruin you, Ves.” her voice lost its feather-light ease, “You made the wrong choice when you married him.”

The words struck hard enough that Vesna's eyes went still.

“You chose to ignore every sign,” Anaka continued.

“I know what I did.”

“Do you?” Anaka’s palm flattened against the table, “Because you keep talking like it happened to you out of nowhere. Like loving someone automatically means handing them the power to destroy you.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Yeah but it's exactly what you’re doing.”

Vesna’s shoulders tightened, “You don’t get to reduce my marriage to one bad decision.”

“No, but I’m reminding you that you survived your own mistake.” Anaka held her gaze, “That means you can trust yourself not to make it again.”

Vesna looked away towards the play structure, catching a flash of Sen’s green shirt behind the netting, “Even if I gave coach Valko a chance, it’d be strange for Sen.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s his coach.”

“So?”

“So, I’m not bringing confusion into my son’s life because a man looked at me a few times the first time I met him.”

Anaka sat back, folding her arms, “That’s not the real reason though, I can tell.”

Vesna’s jaw tightened, “He’s younger than me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He coaches children’s football, Ana.”

Anaka blinked, “How do you know that’s all he does?”

Vesna turned back to her, “Why? You don’t think so?”

“No,” Anaka lifted her coffee and took a thoughtful sip, “His body’s built far too well for him to be some casual gym bro, and might I add that full-time coaches usually let themselves go a bit.”

Despite herself, Vesna’s irritation faltered, “You gathered all that from standing near him for an hour?”

Anaka’s mouth curved for the first time since they’d arrived, “You underestimate me far too much, Ves. Give me time,” Anaka said, already reaching for her phone, “and I can find things out for you.”

Vesna’s stomach tightened, “No, I’m not interested.”

“Mm.”

“I mean it.” she folded her arms, though the movement felt more defensive than she intended, “He’s too good-looking, he flirts like breathing, and he can hold an actual conversation without making it painful. A man like that can't possibly single.”

Anaka’s hand paused above the table and then she drew out her phone and gave Vesna a soft, wicked smile -a smile Vesna knew too well.

“No.”

Anaka unlocked the screen with her thumb, “I’m only checking the time.”

“With both hands?”

“Digital clocks are complex, Ves.” her fingers began moving.

“Ana.” Vesna warned.

Anaka tipped her head, hair sliding over one shoulder as she typed with exaggerated innocence. The airy little hum beneath her breath made Vesna’s pulse jump and she reached across the table.

Anaka snatched the phone back with a laugh, turning her shoulder as Vesna reached across the table. Vesna’s fingertips caught the edge of the case, but Anaka jerked it free, and Vesna’s sleeve clipped the coffee cup. It skidded over the laminate, dark liquid surging beneath the lid, while the beeper spun off the table and struck the floor with a crack.

“Stop it, I’m serious!”

Anaka trapped the cup against her chest with one hand before it tipped, still clutching the phone in the other. “Jesus, Ves.”

“Give me the phone.”

“No!”

Vesna leaned farther across the table, one knee digging into the edge of the booth as she reached for Anaka’s hand. Anaka pulled her arm tight against her ribs and twisted towards the wall, wedging the phone between her hip and the seat.

“You’re acting completely unhinged!”

“I’m acting unhinged?” Vesna caught her by the wrist and tried to pry her hand loose. Anaka locked her elbow against her side, laughing breathlessly as their forearms knocked against the table, “You’re investigating a man I spoke to for five minutes!”

“Exactly!” Anaka ducked her chin, using her shoulder to block Vesna’s reach, “You’ve barely spoken to him, and you’re already building a case for why he’s unavailable.”

“I don’t want to know!” the words came out sharper than she meant them to.

Anaka stilled and around them, the restaurant carried on in bright, greasy normality. Vesna eased back into her seat because she didn’t want a surname, an age, a photograph or a relationship status. She didn’t want facts that might make him more solid than the broad-shouldered coach she could dismiss as charming, attractive and entirely irrelevant.

Knowing things removed distance and took bricks from walls she’d spent two years building.

Anaka set the coffee down carefully, “Fine.”

Vesna watched her from narrowed eyes.

“I won’t do anything,” Anaka said. Her face was composed, but the mischief still lived at the corners of her mouth, light and slippery.

“Ana.”

“What?”

“You’re planning something for later, I can tell.”

Anaka pressed a hand to her chest, “The lack of trust in this friendship is honestly devastating.”

Vesna held out her palm, “Phone.”

“No,” Anaka shook her head and tilted her chin upwards.

“Then promise me.”

Anaka sighed and placed the phone face-down on the table, "Promie you what?"

Vesna kept her gaze on her, “Even if you find something, don’t tell me.”

The last of Anaka’s amusement collapsed into disbelief, “Dude.”

“I’m serious. Promise me, please."

Anaka let her head fall back against the booth and groaned towards the ceiling, “Ugh, fine!”

The beeper buzzed violently on the floor beneath them making both women look down. Its red lights flashed against the tiles, rattling beside Vesna’s shoe like an alarm and she bent to pick it up.