Three years after that bat sneezed in a market in China, I sat perplexed. How had this happened to me? I thought my friendships could overcome anything. I remember when I first heard the word Corona, I thought it was a boring beer, turned out it was a lethal virus. The first days of the lockdown in Melbourne stunned me. My brain went into freeze mode, how could the world stop and go quiet overnight? I struggled to adapt to the rules, stay safe and not pass on the virus. I was scared, I followed the medical and scientific advice that my nursing background knew was ‘right’ and watched as others followed alternative paths. Three friends had a different journey than mine, especially Harmony.
2023 started with a jolt, my husband Jay had been told he had a shadow on his brain, after a nail biting four months he received the ‘all clear.’ Phew, I could breathe again. I planned a journey north to follow the sun, heal, find some peace in the tropics and drop in to see friends. I called Harmony to make plans. I was excited, it had been two years since I had seen her and I was looking forwards to a few bliss filled beach days in Byron on my way up. Harmony was well named, she always exuded peace, I envied her. Being in her company was a treat for me.
‘Hello Harmony. How are you?’
‘I’m great.’
The conversation continued as we shared news and life. We had been friends for thirty years meeting in Byron Bay when we were single, desperate for a man and searching for answers together. Our phone calls were always a delicious, delving into life, love and all that is. That had changed with Covid. We had discussed our opposing views; Harmony was eager for me to agree with her. She believed the conspiracies; she read about them and sent me articles every few weeks. I could not agree and asked her to stop sending the latest story she had found. We decided that it was best if we agreed to disagree. I trusted that our deep friendship was strong enough to hold that difference. I preferred to steer away from Covid conversations but Harmony started talking about the latest vaccination news.
‘You don’t know what you are putting into your body, how many vaccines have you had?’ Harmony demanded.
‘I had them all.’
‘You know they can make you epileptic; I’ve read the Pfizer research.’
I wondered if that was true.
‘Did Jay have the vaccines?’
‘Of course.’
The inference was there. It stung. Harmony was blaming the vaccinations for Jays shadow. I paused, words left me. I hurt. Emotions swirled around; I sighed deeply nervously twirled the ring on my finger. Harmony had not been much of a friend during that arduous time. I accepted that she could not be there for me, as her husband Jo had died of Cancer in 2021, she was grieving. I often made excuses for her.
Harmony continued to bombard me with research about the harmful effects of the vaccines and the plan of powerful forces to take over the planet. I could feel the urgent concern in her voice, I could not interrupt and knew it was pointless to present my view so I sat and listened, holding the phone slightly away from me.
‘I can’t have you stay in my house when you come up here Julie, I can’t be in the same house with someone who won’t discuss this situation, it would be like having an elephant in the room.’ She said.
‘OK.’ My mouth went dry and my heart skipped a few beats.
I said goodbye and hung up. I could not move, my head began to thump, tears filled my eyes. I felt cross examined and attacked. Could I continue this much cherished friendship? A line from the children’s book Charlotte’s Web came to mind, a spider’s web is stronger than it looks. Although it is made of thin, delicate strands, the web is not easily broken.
Thoughts and explanations raced through my head. Had the loss of Harmony’s beloved Jo been too much or was it the death of her younger brother that caused Harmony to change so much and become so forceful and single minded.
Our friendship had been woven with many delicate, silken strands. Thousands of kilometres separated us but the cohesion of our shared journey formed a web that held us together through hard times, joyous times and family crises. We were soul sisters. We travelled together, retreated together, celebrated births and marriages, cried over illness and death. I told Harmony I would walk beside her when her husband was terminally ill. I said if she needed me, I would be on a flight the same day. I drove up with Jay to see Harmony after her husband died. As we walked together on the beach several delicate threads of thirty years together began to unwind. I felt a subtle shift then but believed the fabric of our friendship would last.
Our whole friendship was based on a spiritual understanding of telling the truth. Could I be totally honest and walk away without regrets? After days of reviewing my reactions, feelings and thoughts I wrote to Harmony, when I read the email before I pressed send, the words on the page surprised me. I had been a people pleaser for too long, afraid of losing my friend I had too often gone along with her, it was time to take a stand for me. It was not about Covid, it was about growing, changing and needing to move on. Our friendship had been a beautiful, mind-blowing dance. Harmony always took the lead. I followed.
Harmony said she cried when she read the email. She replied, apologised and offered to catch up for lunch when I travelled north that year.
I bypassed my friend’s town, the web that had entangled me for thirty years had blown away on the wind of truth. I was free.