by Kat Pace
“Hey, I’m good if you’re good,” he says, cupping my chin in his one weirdly giant hand. “I mean, I know you’re good.”
“Stop!” I squeal into his pillow. He throws another one on my head. I can feel his weight lift off the bed.
I hear the shower turn on.
He’s gone and with it so is our night of fun, so is my abandon. And now we’ll have to answer for our friendship sin. I smile to myself, thinking how perfect it was.
I needed it.
I was right. No judgment. From either of us. True millennials through and through.
My phone dings on Alex’s nightstand. I stand up and grab it.
3 missed calls
2 voicemails
16 texts
One call is from my mom and her voicemail is asking where I am. The next two are from Trix. Her voicemail is telling me she told my mom where I am: Staying at Meg’s for the night.
The texts are a different story. Six are from Trix, one from Travis, three from Meg, two from Zoë, two from my mom, one from Alex. And there it is. At the very end. I didn’t realize I was waiting for it until I see it there –the banner frozen across my screen. His name.
I don’t want to open it. If I don’t open it, then it could be anything. It could be I love you or I’m sorry or FUCK YOU.
Then I’m looking at myself from above –as if I’m hovering above Alex’s bed, attached to the ceiling of his apartment, having an outer body experience. Nothing Brooks says will affect me. Nothing he says will matter.
I’m free.
Smiling to myself and slightly proud of myself, I swipe up on my last unread test.
Please
I stare the singular word. I hear it on his lips.
Then all of the sudden I see his face under the shadow of a bonfire. Not from last night, but the way he looked last August –the first time I saw him after nine years apart –the way his head hung back and his laugh was louder than the ocean.
I feel the way he danced with me at the carnival. My tongue tastes like him in my mouth. He told me he loved me and I let him leave. Meanwhile I’m lying naked in his best friend’s bed.
Please. My eyes can’t stop looking at the word.
The shower shuts off. The squeaking knob jerks me up and out of the bed. Alex’s footsteps suddenly feel like thunder against my ears. I’m grabbing up my shorts and stumbling into my flip-flop –yanking my hoodie over my head. I can only think about leaving –about getting out of here unseen.
About going away.
I step onto the second-story porch outside of Alex’s bedroom. It’s also his front door. The morning breeze hits my lungs, cooling down my prickling skin. I stop dead when I look over the railing.
Brooks is leaning against the side of his truck, legs crossed in front of him. His fingers run through his hair.
It’s like he’s waiting for something –for me. But he doesn’t actually expect to find me. He knows I wouldn’t do it. Then he looks up.
A pang of guilt.
A single word. Please.
The way he looks at me –it’s almost like he’s seeing me for the first time. But it goes both ways. It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time.
All I can think of are his words I met someone.
All I can see is Lexi. Lexi touching him. Lexi kissing him.
Fury rips through me.
He has zero right to care.
Zero claim on me.
I skip down the stairs –taking them two at a time.
“You’re fucking KIDDING me!” He almost screams at me, stepping into my path.
I shove past him, avoiding his glare. His arm latched around my elbow, pulling me to him.
“Actually, I’m not.” I want to spit into his face. GOD. He makes me insane.
Fuck him.
Fuck me.
Shit.
The full scene comes into focus: Me standing in front of Brooks, hair a mess and clothes disheveled, tears beginning to sting the corners of my eyes. I realize I have no car –no car to drive away in. Nowhere to walk to. So I beeline for the pavement that leads to the strip of town.
For a second I think he won’t follow me. He can’t follow me.
I’ll die if he follows me.
I hear his feet on the pavement behind me, quickening to catch up to my running,
When did I start running?
“What the fuck Emmy Lou,” he screams, making a grab for my arm again. Full name, ouch. “Did you do this to HURT me? To get back at me?”
“To hurt you? YOU? Fuck off,” I yell sideways. I’m determined to get to town. He won’t follow me around in town.
“Emmy,” he says again. He won’t stop. I round on him, nostrils flaring.
“Oh my god. WHAT THE FUCK! What? What is it?” I shout at him. I want to punch him.
“What?” He stops in his tracks, confused.
“What possible reason could you have right now to speak to me,” I say. “We have nothing to say to each other.”
“I have some things to say,” he begins.
I scoff theatrically. His eyes are nervous. So this is nervous Brooks right now. The least exhibited of all his perfect personas.
“I don’t have time to listen. Tell them to your girlfriend,” I shout as I turn away again, resuming my haul-ass into town.
“Come on!”
The way he says it makes me jerk around. For a second I think he’s half-smiling, but I know he can’t be that fucking stupid. This isn’t a time for half-smiling.
I cannot be on this roller-coaster anymore.
Please, throw me from it. The top even, I DON’T CARE!
“Come on? COME ON?” I repeat like I can’t believe my own ears. “All this is a fucking joke! Highs and lows. Higher highs and lower lows!”
I’m almost hysterical now. Don’t cry.
“Ems,” he begins. FUCK NO.
“DON’T. This is EXACTLY like last time, Brooks. It’s my own fucking fault for believing you. For fucking falling for your shit AGAIN!” I can’t help the screaming. I’m a woman, through and through.
“It wouldn’t be like last time if you weren’t such a bitch,” he says, almost defensively.
“Oh, I’m a bitch now? ME? A bitch because I won’t just do what you want! A bitch because I’m not one of your brainless idiots–”
“Oh you’re really mature,” he cuts across me.
“Like you can talk. You NEVER grow up!” Full fledge yelling now. “I can do WHATEVER I WANT. You make shit decisions 24/7!”
“Yea, clearly.” He barks, rolling his eyes. “Guess I didn’t learn from them last time.”
“Fuck. YOU.”
He’s looking at me with pity again or sadness or like he thinks I’m sad. He’s standing in front of me thinking I’m SAD when the truth is I’m already forgetting his name.
“Em–”
“You have NO RIGHT!” I yell at him. I don’t even care how badly I’m crying. “NO RIGHT to be here. To come after me. To CARE what I do.”
“But I DO CARE,” he yells.
“FUCK YOU!”
I storm away. He doesn’t follow me this time.
It’s happening again: The thing where my brain just decides a song to play as the soundtrack to how I’m feeling. And there it is blaring through my mind. I Wanna Get Better by the Bleachers. Lyrics painfully accurate.
Suddenly I wish we didn’t remember song lyrics so well. You know, like we never forget them. I could go a decade without hearing a song and then the first cords strum. The words, the emotions, they come flooding back to me. And floods drown. Fuck do they drown.
The remainder of the trip home is spent in my parents’ house. I ignore everyone. I don’t text Meg or Travis back. Don’t answer the door when my mom says that Trix is here. Barely acknowledge my mom and dad at all. I feel like the zombie I was on Halloween. Emotions replaced by a welcomed emptiness.
Fuck Brooks.
Fuck this place.
Fuck it all.<
br />
I’m never coming home again.
Tragic comes to mind. Just that. We all want to be a little bit tragic. Always the villain in our own stories. That’s how it goes, right? That’s how the best of us get by.
Master saboteurs.
Fort Night
I’ve gotten so used to ignoring knocks at my door. Mostly because anyone who needs me will call me, but really I wonder if I’m just afraid to open the door. Maybe I’m afraid what I’ll find.
Still I can’t pretend I don’t hear it.
Knock. Knock.
Go away. I will my thoughts to float toward the door, through it, and into the mind of the person on the other side.
BANG. Shouting begins.
“EMMELINE LOU!”
I dart up and across the floor in three seconds. I throw the door open and see Trix staring at me, arms folded, red hair falling to her waist.
“Trix!” I throw myself on her in a hug, catching a whiff of watermelon again. “Oh my god. Trix, what are you doing here?”
“You didn’t answer me. Haven’t for two weeks,” she says, scolding. Mad Trix. Great.
“So you came here?!” I peer into the hallway behind her, half expecting to see Travis leaning against the wall. No Travis. Just Trix.
“Yes, I just came.” She says, rolling her eyes. My hands are still holding onto her shoulders. I didn’t let go after the hug. Afraid she’ll turn to dust.
“But –how?”
“Went to the studio first. To girl there gave me your address,” Trix says. “Beautiful with dreads.”
“Zoë,” I nod. “Sort of scary to know she just gives out my address.” I laugh, trying to joke. I can tell Trix is not thrilled with me for ignoring her.
“It’s not too scary. Had to show her our selfie shoot from New Years before she believed who I was.” Trix looks at me with eyes wide. I can tell she wasn’t planning on reminding me of NYE during her impromptu visit.
“Good to know.” I nod.
“Plus, it was only after I threatened to stay all day and sleep there that she finally saved.” Trix laughs nervously.
“Well, come in!” I say, almost pulling her through the door. “It’s such a pigsty, I’m sorry! If you had told me you were coming–”
“–You wouldn’t have answered me anyway,” Trix finishes, turning to look at me. Hands are uncrossed, but resting on her hips now.
“You’re probably right,” I mumble, looking at my feet.
My mind swims with the last few weeks –few months really. I feel the word vomit on the tip of my tongue. Nothing seems to do my actions justice. I end up blurting out, “I’m so sorry, Trix.”
She looks at me like she’s confused. Her red hair warms her face so naturally she looks too kind. I see her eyes soften too. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I just left. After Tenfire, I switched my flight and left that day. I was just so…” What was I? Not ashamed. Not unashamed. Walking the line. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t blame you, Em. No one does. I don’t even blame you for Alex,” she says, a coy smile slinking onto her lips.
“Trix,” I whine. I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Hey, Alex is… Alex,” Trix says, laughing. “Hey, he’s hot.”
“Trust me, when I thought of Tenfire that was NOT how I envisioned the night going.” I laugh.
“I know. I know.” She nods, stroking my arm now.
“Then, the next day Brooks came after me. I just couldn’t stay there a day longer. I hated myself. I hated him. GOD I do hate him. I hated everything and everyone and that place–”
Shit. I glance at her and bite my lip, wishing I could take it back. But Trix hardly flinched when I said it. Instead, she remains quiet, intense, watching me. Finally, as though she’s done measuring me, she opens her mouth.
“I’m worried about you, hun.”
“I know,” I say and mean it. “But don’t be. I’m fine. Can’t be worse than last time, right?”
I can tell she won’t take me for my word. Can’t say that I blame her. I walk further into my loft and she follows me. The bag drops from her shoulders. She turns around and slowly walks to the couch.
“That’s the problem. I remember last time,” she says, quiet. It’s strange to hear Trix this quiet. “I remember what it was like for you.”
Slight pang. Nothing I can’t handle. Trix remembers what it was like for me. Remembers me almost falling apart. No. Remembers me very plainly falling apart.
“Don’t worry about me,” I say again. “I’m a different person than I was ten years ago.”
People change, but they never really change.
FOOL.
“Well, I’m here for you. We all are,” she smiles. I wonder if she means her and Meg. Or her, Meg, Travis and Nate too. Alex. Probably all of them think Brooks is a mega douche. “Yes, all the guys too.”
I laugh at how she reads me mind.
“I guess it’s pretty serious then. With them.” I chew on the inside of my lip to try and maintain some semblance of a straight face. I don’t want to know the answer, but I need to hear it. Trix knows this.
“Travis said she moved in with him,” Trix says quietly and then looks nervous. Like I may lose it.
“So not too serious.” I give her a sad smile.
“No ring or anything,” she smiles back.
“Yet,” I can’t help but finish her thought. It hurts when it comes out. I don’t know why. “Do you hear from him much? Any of you?”
I hate myself for asking. “Here and there. You’re not the only one who sort of disappeared you know. Tenfire was the first time he came back since Christmas.”
“Convenient,” I say, rolling my eyes. “We must be on the same schedule.”
“He talks to the guys. Spends a lot of time in LA, I think. With his college lax bros.” She tries to say it with distaste, but she’s too sweet for it to sound real.
“I’m sure he fits right in in LA,” I say, chewing on my cheek. “Hope he stays there. I’ll make sure to steer clear.”
“I promise not to make you come home again,” Trix says suddenly, biting her lip. “I won’t ask. Won’t even suggest it or think it.”
“Thanks,” I laugh. Can’t help but think no amount of begging from Trix would make me return anyway.
“If I never asked last summer–”
“I would have come anyway. I couldn’t stay away forever. I couldn’t never go back, Trix. It was time.” I try to make her feel how true this is. Instead I’m transported back to that night on the beach –back to when Brooks asked me “Why now?” –back to before this all started. Before my barely healed wounds were split open. It was just time. Well, time’s a motherfuckin’ bitch.
“And now?” Trix asks.
“And now I know there’s nothing back there for me. I just needed to be reminded why I left in the first place. And why I’m not going back.” Saying it out loud to another soul feels fantastic, like I’m giving Trix part of my burden. Poor girl.
“Emmy.” She flips her red hair behind her head and looks at me sideways. “Don’t disappear again. I know it’s hard, but you left all of us last time. Texts and calls and social media –that’s all great but it’s not us.”
“You’re right.” I nod. I know what she means. It’s not the same. The way she’s looking at me now, with her arm on mine, I’m reminded of New Years, of the prom pic we all took under the canopy.
What an actual lifetime ago.
“We can visit you. Or we can pick places to visit together. We can make new traditions,” Trix rambles on now back to her animated self. “And no home-wreckers allowed.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, if no home-wreckers allowed. You’ve got a deal.”
We hug it out. A long hug that only your best friend can give. “And thanks for coming here –to Seattle –to check on me,” I smile.
“Anything for Emmeline. I just hope I’m done with the wellness checks for a while
,” Trix says, squeezing my hand.
“For at least a while,” I say, squeezing back.
BEEP. BEEP.
“So how long are you staying?” I ask, removing the bag of popcorn from the microwave.
