Shanice was nineteen, and she was about to lend her friend eighty pounds for the third time that year.
She was sitting on Alyah’s sofa with her banking app open. Her rent was due in a week. She hadn’t been paid back from the last two times.
“Just going to send it,” she said. “She’s really stuck.”
Alyah was twenty-five and she’d watched her little cousin do this all year. She could have lectured. She could have grabbed the phone. She didn’t do either. She just put her tea down and asked:
“Are you sending it because you want to? Or because you’re scared of what happens if you don’t?”
Shanice’s thumb stopped.
“She’ll be upset.”
“Probably,” Alyah said. “And what happens if you send it?”
Shanice looked at her balance. She did the maths. She’d be short on rent. She’d have to borrow from her mum. Again.
“I’m the one who ends up stuck,” she said quietly.
Alyah didn’t say I told you so. She didn’t say anything. She let Shanice sit with it.
“I don’t want to be a bad friend.”
“Saying no isn’t being a bad friend,” Alyah said. “Saying yes while you secretly resent her — that’s what wrecks friendships. You can be kind and still say no. They’re not opposites.”
Shanice put the banking app away. She opened her messages. She typed, deleted, typed again. Alyah watched her take out two sorries and a “no worries if not”.
I can’t lend money this time — I’m short myself. I’m really sorry you’re stuck. Do you want to come round for food tonight instead?
She sent it. Her friend replied twenty minutes later: Yeah ok. Fair. Food sounds good x
“That’s it?” Shanice said. “I’ve been stressing about that for a week.”
Alyah picked her tea back up. “It usually is.”