One woman, Anne, went to visit her old friend. This friend, Elizabeth, had married for the second time. Her first marriage had been miserable her husband drank too much, was impossible to live with, and then ran off with another woman. It was a sorry tale. Through all of it, Anne had been there for Elizabeth, always ready with support and comfort, as true friendship should be.
Ten years passed, and then Elizabeth met someone newa decent fellow, well-educated, with a respectable job, the complete opposite of her first husband. Anne was genuinely happy for her friend, and on her first visit to the couple’s new flat, she arrived with a Victoria sponge, her arms full of gifts. She praised the beautiful décor, completely taken by how lovely everything looked.
After tea was poured, they sat at the table together, sharing slices of cake. Elizabeths new husband, Philip, proved to be a witty man, well-readalways with a clever remark at the ready. The trouble was, most of his jokes were at Annes expense. He poked fun at her supposed lack of worldliness, calling her out for all sorts of nonsense he claimed filled her head. He laughed as he said itshe hadnt read Murakami, didnt know who Pelevin was, and talked too freely of things science had already left behind as old wives tales.
Philip didnt stop there. He made jests about Annes hairstyle, figure, and clothesThats a look straight from the nineties, he chuckled. All the while, Elizabeth just laughed along, clearly dazzled by her husband’s cleverness.
Trying to change the subject, Anne mentioned she had recently rescued a kitten, hoping to steer the conversation away from books she hadn’t read. But Philip scoffed at that too. Cats spread all kinds of germs, you know. Picking up strays says more about your fragile state of mind than you realise!
Elizabeth laughed the loudest when Philip rattled off more jokes about lonely spinsters hoarding cats.
Unable to stop herself, Anne burst into tears. It was childish, embarrassing even, but the tears came anyway. She apologised, blamed her headache, bid farewell, and left.
Her head was truly pounding, as if someone had struck her, and she felt deeply ashamed for cryinghow ridiculous, she thought. She walked home through the chilly evening, although it was meant to be summer. The cold seemed to seep into her bones. She felt small for her tears, for not keeping up with the witty repartee, for not reading Murakami, for talking about a strange dream as if it meant something
But really, the shame didnt belong to her. The shame was for those who invite someone into their home only to allow them to be ridiculed. For those who share a story about a friend, or talk about a cherished book, film, or belief, and then permit it to be mocked. For posting a quote by a favourite author online, yet standing by while others make nasty comments. All these are quiet betrayals.
Betrayal is handing someone over to be humiliated, or worse. Thats what betraying really means.
Anne couldnt have put it into wordsshe was not an intellectual, after all. She hurried home, to her cat, who knew nothing of books or sarcasm, but simply curled beside her on the sofa and purred softly.
Anne never visited Elizabeth again. Eventually there was nowhere to visitElizabeth and her husband were soon dividing up the flat, locked in a bitter legal dispute. Philip proved himself clever indeedperhaps too clever altogether.
Its always the same: the one you betray for someone elses sake will often betray you in turn. A simple lessonif only someone had gently put a stop to the jokes, not allowed a friend to be slighted in their home, perhaps things would have been different. Maybe then respect could have taken root, and wrongs avoided.
In life, if you allow others to mistreat your friends, you risk losing not just their friendship, but your own dignity too. Betrayal costs more than you realiseand no one respects a traitor.
