One More Time

by Kat Pace

  “How long am I invited?” Trix asks.

  “Oh,” I pause, pretending to feel awkward. “You know, I never actually invited you.”

  “Ha-ha,” she laughs and throws a pillow at me.

  “Really, Trix.” I bring her into a hug. “Thank you for coming to me. I didn’t know I needed this.”

  “I knew you needed this,” she smirks. “Men are trash, like actual garbage.”

  “Travis isn’t,” I blurt out before I can stop. I hope the jealously doesn’t sound as loud to her.

  “No, he’s not. I got lucky,” Trix smiles. “One day you will too.”

  “Spare me,” I laugh, rolling my eyes.

  We change into our pajamas and start on the gallon of coconut milk ice cream that’s amazingly still left in my freezer. I pull the jar of peanut butter from my cabinet and grab two spoons. She grabs two cans of old soda and the can of whipped cream from the fridge.

  “Ugh, no cherries,” she wines, looking at my fridge door.

  “Fresh out.” I roll my eyes from behind the couch.

  “This will do,” Trix says, dropping the chocolate sauce on the coffee table.

  “That shits old as shit,” I laugh. The cushions from the couch are now on the floor.

  We arrange my chairs next to the couch and take the cover from my bed to drape it over the space. It’s a tent/fort just like we used to make when we were kids. We string up lights and load the floor with all the pillows and extra blankets, and all the scattered remnants of who we used to be.

  “We used to make these all the time, remember?” Trix asks.

  “How could I forget? We were so cool.”

  “We were!” She shoves my shoulder. “Well, we thought.”

  “Uh-huh,” I smile, nudging her back. “The birthday forts were especially cool.”

  “Oh my god, the birthday forts! Remember we would dress up as characters and sneak leftover cake into the basement,” she laughs.

  “Of course. And we snuck the cake into the fort and forgot about it for days.” I laugh.

  “Haha,” Trix laughs. “Remember that one time it snowed and school was cancelled? We brought in buckets of snow and tried to make mini snow angels.”

  “You mean the castle elves made mini snow angels?” I nod.

  “The elves!” Trix laughs.

  “Then it melted all over the floor.” I frown.

  “Wow, we were freaks.” Trix nods, matter-of-factly.

  We prop ourselves up with our backs against the couch, feet dangling over the edge of the cushions. The purple sheet-roof casts a weird haze over the fort. I could be in a dream.

  “So,” Trix begins in her singsong voice.

  “So?” I edge her on.

  “I’ve been waiting to tell you –well show you in person –after I saw you weren’t gonna like become sad and fat or anything–”

  “Trix,” I sigh. But I think I already know. When Trix reaches her fingers into her pocket I 100% know.

  “This happened!” Trix squeals, holding up a clear diamond ring. It’s made of perfection.

  “Oh my god,” I say, pulling her hand towards me. Her eyes are almost swimming in tears.

  “I’ve been DYING to tell you! Haven’t posted it yet or anything! It’s been killing me!” Trix shouts.

  “Travis did good,” I laugh.

  “He really did,” she beams.

  “Well, it’s about time.” I mean it. “You didn’t have to wait you know. To tell me in person.”

  I am not fragile. No need to handle with care.

  “I know,” she frowns. “I wanted to. It’s just… Ever since we were 14 and started to notice boys were even a thing –it was always you and Brooks. You guys were the real deal, the sure thing. Engaged first. Married first. Kids first.”

  “Trix. Trix.” I wave my hands at her to stop.

  “I hate myself for even reminding you, but I didn’t want it to hurt you after everything–”

  “Like I forgot,” I shake my head. I pick up her hands in mine, little heavier with the rock. “Things change. Sometimes for the better, Mrs. Scott.”

  “Does have a nice ring to it,” Trix smirks, squeezing my hand.

  I always thought I’d feel like I was losing Trix whenever she got engaged. But I don’t feel that way. I’m not sad or salty at all. I think in my head Trix and Travis were already engaged. Been engaged since junior year. Now it’s just karat official.

  “And start thinking up a wedding hashtag, my beautiful maid of honor!” Trix claps her hands together.

  “Really?” I shriek.

  “Duh. Ever seen Meg’s taste? Love her, but c’mon, she can’t be trusted with this. Plus, you’re like my sister Em,” Trix squeezes my hand.

  “I’d love to be your MOH. I’ll start on the hashtags tonight,” I joke. “So wait, wait. How did he do it? Tell me the entire story!” I nudge her. “Spare nothing.”

  I get the story. Nothing fancy, but that’s Travis. It happened about four days after the Tenfire misadventure. Back Bay at sunset, boat cruise, ring and champagne. Check. Check. Check. Boujee check.

  #shesaidfuckyes

  “Not to go back, but I meant to ask you,” Trix says between bites of ice cream. “How did Trevor take it?”

  “Oh, he was thrilled! Yea. Great chat we had. Wish we could do it all over again!” I exclaim, throwing my head back against the couch.

  “Drama queen, much?” Trix smirks.

  “Thought you loved my melodramatic flare?” I question.

  “Oh I DO. For sure,” Trix nods, tilting her head back to catch some whipped cream. “Keep going.”

  I shrug. “I mean, he wasn’t happy with the news, but we were never really serious. Ya know, not exclusive. I think it was hard for him to figure out how to feel. Hard for me too.”

  “Makes sense,” she says, plunging her spoon into the ice cream now. “Guess you can’t be mad at losing something if it wasn’t even a thing to be lost.”

  “Exactly. So wise,” I joke.

  But was it something to be lost? I tilt my head toward her and she’s soft smiling at me. “We are still talking about Trevor, yes?”

  “Course we are. I would never dream of calling you and him not a thing to be lost.” Trix tucks my hair behind my ear. I smile at the way she says him. Like it’s causing her pain.

  “Right,” is all I can say. I mask the sound of my voice cracking by coughing over my peanut butter.

  “Good riddance, anyway, to Trevor and everyone else. Clean slate. Fresh start.”

  I nod and dig out more peanut butter with my giant spoon, my Big Dipper.

  I see all the constellations as the white lights on the fort ceiling shine like stars against a dark sky. They feel just as far too –as far as the last year feels to me –as far as everything feels to me now.

  Except maybe Trix.

  I missed being so close to her. Just the two of us, like when we were kids. Before boys. Her long hair reaches to my pillow. It smells like strawberries and I realize under the faintly purple lights how beautiful she is. How kind and caring and the fact that she flew out here for me is overwhelming.

  Suddenly I realize the weight of her words.

  She is here for me. And so are the rest of them.

  Nothing has changed. We keep moving. The World Spins Madly On just like The Weepies said it would.

  I think I’m already better.

  Maybe I won’t be broken like last time.

  Or maybe I will be.

  And maybe that’s OK.

  Broken is beautiful too.

  New Year's Eve 2021

  7:51 PM

  “Our rezy is at 8:00 and we have blocks to go. Come on!” Trix yells from in front of me.

  “Trix, it’s one block over. Quit running.” I roll my eyes by habit, even though I know she can’t see them.

  Her eyes are focused on a hazy sign down the street, a sign I can barely make out through all the neon lights and traffic signals. The snow-sleet shi
t doesn’t help. I pull my pea coat tighter around me. It’s so fucking cold. Look at this dumb idiot wearing a skirt. Me. I’m the idiot.

  Thank god for oversized scarfs.

  The millennial in me knows going out and spending money on overpriced drinks in a place I don’t actually want to be is more worthwhile than staying home, wrapped in my pajamas and counting down the seconds on my couch.

  Instead, I’m wearing my favorite ivory sweater and a black leather skirt with boots. I cut my hair short again. Easier for yoga. It doesn’t need much work now to maintain its natural wave. I applied the appropriately thick layer of make up to my pale face and I was ready to go. If I’m lucky my fake face will help me score. It’s what we secretly all hope, right? Fucking right.

  I remember as I’m chasing Trix down the last crowded block why I never come to New York City. Let alone on New Years Eve. But Trix insisted. It’s been six months and she still wouldn’t let me be alone.

  Travis moved into the city at the end of the summer for some new job he got. YAS. Was all I could think when Trix told me. He got out of the sad town. Anyway Trix tries to visit him as often as she can, but she won’t make the move herself. Secretly, I think she’s hoping NYC is not a permanent thing.

  Trix is still working at the boutique. And Meg is still at the bank, Nate still at the school and Alex still sleeping beneath BLINK 182 and trying to make it as an artist. Brooks –who knows? Brooks –who cares? I expect working on an Edge bikini line with her.

  At least I got to tell Trix about Go Zen #2. The second studio opened just before Halloween. It’s across the city, in a less hipster area but it’s all good. Even fancy uptight housewives enjoy their yoga and iced coffee. Zoë even managed to find a pseudo/B-list celebrity to endorse us. Promoted us on social media and everything.

  We also developed a line of zen oils, yoga mats made from recycled waste, and because I need to trend: totes. Basically, Zoë and I are quite fine, thank you very much. We won’t be selling Edge Apparel any time soon, though.

  My parents flew me to London for Christmas. It was my first time there and I enjoyed the hype. Didn’t get to live out my adolescent Love Actually dream. But it was OK. Anyway, they extended their trip to after NYE. I was not about to third-wheel my parents to ring in the New Year. I also didn’t want to risk going back to Seattle and running into Trevor. The two of us have always had a weird habit of ending up at the same bar at closing time, on holidays. No thanks.

  That’s when I ended up (against my better judgment) asking Trix about plans. I know. I KNOW. Actively making plans, disgusting right? Who am I? But for some reason when I landed at the airport back in Murica it felt weird not being with her on New Years.

  Felt weird not being with them all. I missed Trix’s warmth and Meg’s laid-back chill presence. Missed Travis’s minty smell and Alex’s infectious laugh. Missed them all.

  I wonder what they’re all doing tonight. It’s just Trix and Travis in NYC, but she insisted I third-wheel her. Well, her and Travis are the lesser of two evils.

  “Emmy Lou!” She turns to me, her hair whipping her face as she does. Even in sleet she looks good.

  “Hey, you made it.” Travis says when we get there. He’s waiting outside the door smoking a cig. He looks so hipster. So NYC.

  “I did. Thanks for taking me in. I was sick of feeling homeless,” I joke.

  “No problem,” he laughs, catching his tongue ring between his teeth. “Trix has a thing for strays.”

  “Must be why she dates you,” I smirk.

  8:01 PM

  We sit at a fancy table and almost immediately the maître d' brings over the wine list. I glance at it and am reminded of a similar wine list, of a cool blue light, and martinis rimmed with fairy dust.

  East coast Corbel Finn.

  Of course.

  What kind of sign is this, universe? It’s already New Years Eve and as if that didn’t make it BAD ENOUGH, yes let’s add more things that remind me of him.

  “So? Which?” Travis is looking at me.

  Focus, Em.

  “Sorry, what?” I ask.

  “Wine, red or white?” Travis asks again, looking over the edge of the menu.

  “Whatever you’re getting,” I shrug.

  I won’t turn away any wine. Not tonight.

  “I’m SO glad you came,” Trix smiles. And I know she means it. I know she’s glad that –after everything –I haven’t disappeared. I haven’t retreated to the safe confines of the west coast.

  “Of course I came.” I smile back. “It’s New Years.”

  “Second in a row–” She clasps her hand over her mouth like she’s just said something dirty. Her face scrunches up like she tastes something rotten.

  I realize in that moment how ridiculous it is. How ridiculous I am. Is this how far I’ve come? People are afraid to talk around me? People are walking on eggshells balanced on jagged rocks. Each rock a memory of him.

  “It’s OK,” I laugh. Strained, but still a laugh. “Second in a row.”

  “We should make it a thing,” Trix says, regrouping back to her old cheery self.

  “Like tent night?” I ask her, raising my eyebrows and raising my glass.

  “Yes. Like traditional tent night. The three of us on New Years.”

  “I’m in,” Travis says, picking up his wine glass.

  “Me too. I vow to always third-wheel your New Years Eve plans,” I say and take a sip from my glass. “What’s everyone else doing tonight anyway?”

  “Well, Meg and Nate took a trip actually. Mexico I think, with Meg’s family,” Trix says, rolling her eyes.

  “Alex is at home with whoever he’s dating now,” Travis says. “Couldn’t tell you what he’s doing. And Brooks, I think he’s in Florida maybe? That hotel?”

  “Oh, yea,” I mumble, bringing my glass to my lips.

  9:37 PM

  Dinner is over. Our tricycle survived.

  “And now we go out,” Travis says.

  “Yes!” Trix squeals.

  “Out? Trixxx,” I whine. “Out was not part of the deal.”

  “Come on! It’s New Years! It’s not even 10:00 PM.” Trix pretends to pout.

  I roll my eyes.

  It’s not that I don’t love Trix and Travis or even that I mind being alone with just the two of them. It’s tonight. It’s how everywhere I look I seem to think of him. I can’t unfeel him in the very air around me.

  Stupid.

  “Ok, OK.” I decide to go out. Well, the $200 bottle of wine decides to go out but it is NYE in NYC after all.

  We are very careful to avoid the vicinity of Times Square. I can almost feel the ground trembling in that direction, no doubt shaking under the footsteps of one million people all cramming in to watch a giant ball drop.

  Sounds pretty miserable to me. Especially considering it’s packed with adults wearing diapers and there’s an inch of grimy snow blanketing the streets. Trix wines about her heels. I offer to switch and give her my boots. I’ll gladly welcome the open-toed shoes. Maybe ice-cold toes will help numb my other senses.

  Four blocks later Travis leads us down a side street. More neon signs. A convenience store wedged between two buildings has an ad in the window. My eyes double take when I see it: an orange poster for Ramen noodles.

  Fuck. I will not look.

  Ramen noodles. Plaid sweaters. Chocolate milk. Friends marathons. More noodles. Mf.

  Don’t look.

  I pull out my phone to distract myself. I watch video stories of people pre-gaming parties, girls dressed in literally nothing. We all try too hard. I scroll through my feed –over picture after picture of dumb things I don’t care about. Seriously, why do I follow half of these brain-dead morons? Every now and then I stop to envy the smiling faces or cute pair of shoes. But I push past. I need the distraction.

  I scroll so fast past it I have to go back up for my double take.

  A diamond ring. A HUGE DIAMOND RING.

  It almost glints at me
from the picture. Yes, I know it’s not possible, but it almost does. But it’s not the ring that makes me do a double take.

  It’s the face of the boy in the picture –the boy with his hand swung around a blonde –the boy kissing her cheek as she smiles so brightly it’s competing with the flashing diamond rock. My heart sinks. No, plummets. To China.