The Best of Friends

by Berry, Lucinda

  Dani speaks first. “No, it’s fine. I didn’t notice anything.”

  Normally, I’d offer them something. A cup of tea or coffee. A glass of wine if it were past five, but giving them anything will only make them stay longer, and if I don’t have some time to pull myself together, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Their presence grates on me.

  “I know you’ve had a million things to do, but did you get my text about the video Paul found on Instagram with Jacob and Sawyer at another Delta Tau party?” Kendra asks.

  She keeps sending me that stupid video. The last thing I want to do is watch a video of Jacob smiling and alive. It hurts too much. Why can’t she just let it go?

  I shake my head. “I haven’t had time.”

  Kendra reaches in her purse and pulls out her phone before hurrying over to me. She types in her pass code, and a video is already queued up on her screen. Anger shoots through me. This is the purpose of her visit. All of it makes sense now. I should’ve known she wanted something.

  I step around her and begin folding Jacob’s socks over his ankles like there’s something important I need to do with his feet. She follows and stands behind me.

  “You really should see this. There was definitely something going on with them.” She tries to hand me the phone again. I ignore her. She tries again, reaching around me. I push her hand away. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “My child is a vegetable, Kendra!” I turn and scream at her. “Or haven’t you noticed that because you’re so wrapped up in your own damn pain that you can’t see anybody else’s? I lost my son too. The Jacob from before?” Rage shoots through my body, making it tremble. “He died that night. Right along with Sawyer. We might as well have buried them together. I’m never getting him back, and I’m left with an infant to raise for the rest of my life. Have you stopped to think that might be why I’ve been dodging your texts? Why I haven’t dug into the latest investigation of Jacob and Sawyer’s relationship?” I shake my head. Kendra backs up against the wall behind her like I’m going to attack her. “Don’t say anything. I already know the answer. You don’t think of anyone but yourself. Never have. The night of our junior prom? You could’ve—”

  Dani steps forward and gently places her hand on my arm to stop me. We never talk about that night, didn’t even the night it happened. “Lindsey, don’t, please,” she says softly.

  “Don’t give me that. You know I’m right. You even said so yourself, but you won’t say it in front of Kendra, will you? You’re just secretly glad she backed off of Caleb and started pointing her finger at Jacob.” Horror crosses her face like I’ve slapped her. She drops my arm. “You know it’s true. Come on, isn’t that why Kendra marched in here? All in the name of truth telling? Truth finding? Well, how’s this for truth—Caleb had a vicious temper. He hated being left out or told what to do. Maybe you guys should stop trying to write the next Romeo and Juliet and focus your attention on the kid who we all know would be voted most likely to go off and shoot his friends.”

  The room stills. I’ve crossed every line.

  Dani rushes to Caleb and throws her arms around him, covering his ears with both hands to protect him from my words. Kendra stares at me like she’s never seen me before. I lock eyes with her but can’t bring myself to apologize. If I open my mouth, I’m only going to spill more poisonous venom. They never should’ve come to my house.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  KENDRA

  There’s got to be something here—something I missed before—anything. I rip open Sawyer’s dresser drawer and rummage through his T-shirts, tossing them out as I go, not caring where they land. Mounds of his clothes lie scattered in piles by my feet from the drawers I’ve already been through. I kick them aside and move on to his desk, jerking open the top drawer.

  Paul startles me from behind. “What are you doing?” He stands in the doorway, eyeing me warily with his arms crossed.

  He’s supposed to be at the office. What’s he doing home? I ignore him and tug open the other drawers. I grab random items and push them aside, making sure to dig all the way to the back for anything hidden or out of my reach.

  “What are you doing?” he asks louder.

  “Looking for something.” I scurry away from the desk and drop to my knees next to Sawyer’s bed. I peer underneath it like I used to look for monsters before turning the lights out for him to sleep at night. There’s nothing but dust bunnies and scrunched-up socks.

  I’ve never been so furious with Lindsey. How dare she make it sound like I’m being selfish by trying to piece together Sawyer’s death? Like I’m supposed to feel bad when her kid probably killed mine? I deserve to know what happened to him. I’ve been doing her a favor by being nice and gentle. No more.

  I had to get out of there before I did something terrible. I don’t know how I drove home without crashing. One minute I was at her house, shaking with fury, and the next minute I was pulling into my driveway. I’ve been tearing apart Sawyer’s room ever since, determined to find a clue that can bring him justice, and when I do, I’m going back over there and throwing it in her face.

  “What are you looking for?” Paul asks.

  “I don’t know.” I hop back to my feet and eye the posters taped on the walls of his room.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” He takes a step into the room.

  I dart to the King Theta poster on the wall next to his bathroom door and grab a corner, ripping it off the wall. Parts of the paper stick to the wall, and I frantically scrape the last pieces off, clawing at them with my fingernails.

  Paul races up behind me. “Stop it! What are you doing?”

  I toss the poster on the floor and run my hand along the wall like there’s a hidden spot behind it. Paul grabs my hands to stop me and pulls me close to him. He wraps his arms tightly around me. “Settle down.”

  I writhe against him. I don’t want to settle down. I want to know what happened to my baby. He holds me tight, refusing to let go.

  “It’s okay. Just try to settle,” he says in a calm, soothing voice.

  My body trembles against his, and my voice shakes when I speak. “I need to know what happened to Sawyer. I don’t care what Lindsey or anybody else thinks. I don’t care if everybody else is like, Oh, it’s just an accident. Nobody wants to say it out loud, Paul, but what if it wasn’t?” I start crying as the questions tumble out of me. “What if Jacob shot Sawyer on purpose?”

  “I care about what happened to Sawyer.”

  I lean into him; he’s solid. “I’m sorry. I know you do. It’s just we all tiptoe around it like there’s no way it’s a possibility, but I’m pretty sure Jacob killed Sawyer. As terrible as it is, it’s the only explanation that makes sense. The only scenario where Jacob shoots himself is if he does it after he shoots Sawyer.”

  Paul traces lines on my back. “I know,” he whispers into the top of my head.

  “Why can’t Lindsey admit that and move on? It’s not like anything is going to happen to Jacob. No judge or jury is going to send him to jail. He’s already lost his life.” Unlike most people who lose their loved ones to violent crimes, I know my perpetrator will get the punishment and suffering that others only imagine in the dark corners of their minds.

  “It’s too hard for her or anyone else to think of him as a murderer. The kid was practically perfect. He’s not supposed to be the type of kid who does something horrible, and if he could do something like that, then anybody could, so it’s too terrifying for people to think about. Not to mention it’s probably also not how she wants him remembered.”

  She doesn’t want him remembered as a murderer any more than I want Sawyer remembered as a dumb jock who got drunk and made a stupid mistake, which is how he’ll be remembered if I don’t prove otherwise.

  “Thank you for understanding.” My breathing is slowly returning to normal.

  “Believe me, I totally get it. Can we get out of here now?”

  I eye the destruction I wreaked on
the room. “I should pick this up.” His eyes freeze with anxiety at the thought of having to stay in this room any longer. “And you should go downstairs and make us something to eat. I’ll be hungry when I’m done.”

  I stare at the phone in disbelief. I was cleaning up my mess and putting things away after wreaking havoc on Sawyer’s room when it tumbled out of a box of old clothes stacked in the back of his closet. I try his iPhone pass code first, hoping I’ll get lucky and he used the same one, but the phone buzzes with denial. How did I miss this before? Guilt creeps its way up my stomach and inches its way up my throat. I was only in his closet if I was digging for bottles late at night when I was taking those pills. It’s been five days since I took one, and I haven’t been back here until today. Maybe I would’ve found it before if I hadn’t been impaired, but I don’t have time for regret. This is too important.

  Getting into his iPhone was easy because I know both Sawyer’s and Reese’s pass codes. The only way the boys are allowed to have phones is if we have access to them. Obviously, there are still ways to hide things, but at least they know we monitor them. I keep trying different possible combinations, making sure to give the phone the proper time to reset between pass code fails so I don’t get myself locked out, but no luck. I rack my brain, but the possibilities are endless. Hopelessness has started setting in when I suddenly have an idea. I type in Jacob’s birth date and watch as the screen unlocks.

  There’s only one number he communicates with on the burner phone, and it’s one that I don’t recognize, but it’s probably Jacob’s. I bet if Lindsey searched his room, she would find a similar phone, and my suspicions are confirmed when I scroll to the beginning and find their first few texts are about buying the burner phones together. Their Breaking Bad references make me laugh.

  I start reading the text stream between them like it’s Sawyer’s diary. They got the phone nine months ago, shortly after they started hooking up, because they didn’t want anyone to know about their relationship. There’s a level of intimacy I never imagined they had and certainly never saw, or I would’ve brought it up. They talk about how much pressure they feel on the soccer field. I had no idea Sawyer felt the level of stress he did or that Jacob was on a partial financial aid scholarship. Lindsey never breathed a word of that. Has that always been the case? There’s tons of sex stuff, and I quickly scroll past it, wishing there were a way to filter it out, but there’s not.

  Their relationship was a secret. Nobody knew, not even Caleb. I wonder what he thinks now? Except their texts don’t call it a relationship, and as soon as Jacob makes reference to the two of them being a couple, the pullback from Sawyer is immediate and obvious, even though it’s clear Sawyer has feelings for him too. Jacob is head over heels in love with Sawyer and doesn’t care who finds out. His texts move from brief misspelled shorthand, emojis, and videos to long, carefully drafted sentences.

  I know we said that we didn’t want things to get serious because we’re so young but we can’t control the way we feel. I don’t understand what you’re so afraid of.

  I’m not gay.

  You can’t control who you love.

  Who said anything about love?

  His words stab me in the heart. What must they have done to Jacob? He doesn’t respond after that, and there’s a two-week gap between texts and FaceTime calls. I pull out his iPhone to see if they stop communicating on that, too, and interestingly, they communicate with each other in group chats, but there aren’t any private communications between them. And then Sawyer breaks the silence with the oldest trick in the book:

  You looked hot in those jeans today.

  Jacob bites within seconds like he’s been waiting for contact.

  Thanks!

  It’s not long before they’re performing the dance that makes up almost every teenager’s relationships with boys they like—come closer, get away, come closer, get away. Despite Sawyer being my son, I find myself rooting for Jacob in their emotional tug-of-war. It frustrates me that in addition to being your stereotypical jock, Sawyer’s also your classic player, and at the expense of someone he so clearly cares about. Then something happens, and you can feel Sawyer’s anger in his next text:

  What you did today was wrong. I’m done with this.

  What did Jacob do? There’s no mention of it anywhere. Jacob doesn’t respond. There’s nothing for two weeks, and then Jacob starts derailing. He’s every picture of teenage heartbreak and angst.

  I can’t sleep at night thinking about you.

  I don’t know how to breathe without you.

  Please talk to me.

  I can’t go on like this.

  But Sawyer doesn’t. He ignores Jacob for another nine days. Jacob’s last text to Sawyer was sent the day before the accident. My blood chills as I read his words:

  I wanted to kill you when I saw you flirting with those girls at lunch.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  LINDSEY

  What’s wrong with me? How could I say those things in front of Caleb? It doesn’t matter if they were true; he’s too shattered to hear them. I fuss with Jacob’s sheets, going around his bed and meticulously tucking in the corners to have something to do with my hands. Kendra stormed out after my outburst, but Dani’s still here, and she keeps digging in her purse like she’s looking for something important. She doesn’t want to be stuck in this room with me any more than I want to be in it with her, but we don’t have much of a choice. Caleb cried for over an hour, and we just finally got him settled on the couch with Wyatt. There’s no point in moving him and taking the risk of upsetting him again.

  Wyatt was the one who got him to stop crying. Caleb wanted nothing to do with me or Dani, and nothing we said soothed him or provided him any relief. He just sat there plastered against his chair with a pained expression on his face while loud, racking sobs shook his body. The sounds brought Wyatt downstairs, and he coaxed Caleb into the TV room. Wyatt motioned for us to stay away, and we watched from the living room as he fervently whispered to Caleb like they were in a soccer huddle. His words reached him, and it wasn’t much longer until Wyatt talked him into watching an Avengers movie.

  “Look, I shouldn’t have answered the door. I wasn’t in the spot to talk to anyone today,” I say, keeping my hands busy while I talk so I don’t have to look at her. “It’s why I sent the text and told everyone to stay away.”

  She can be mad at me all she wants, but both she and Kendra got my message. They each side-texted me and asked if there was anything they could do to help. I told them the same thing I told everyone:

  I’m fine. Just need to rest.

  She keeps her eyes glued to her purse. “I know you didn’t want anyone here today. Kendra showed up at my house and dragged us with her.”

  And Dani went along with her, like we’ve been doing since we were ten years old. Are we ever going to stop? The only reason Kendra felt confident enough to barge into my house the way she did a few hours ago is because she knew I wouldn’t try to stop her any more than Dani had stopped her when she’d forced her way into her house.

  “I’m sorry I said all those awful things.”

  “Why be sorry? They’re true. You don’t think I knew you and Kendra thought Caleb was ‘so aggressive’ when the boys were younger?” She uses air quotes. “You guys couldn’t wait for me to leave playdates so you could gossip about all the things Caleb had done to your boys while they played and how I failed miserably in controlling him.”

  “Dani, we—”

  She puts her hand up to stop me. “Please, don’t even try. It’s okay. I’ve always been the one who made you guys feel better about your own parenting.”

  “Well, you sure made up for it after I had Sutton.” I can’t help myself. She and Kendra spend just as much time bashing me about the way I raise Sutton as we did talking about Caleb when the boys were younger. But there’s a difference between then and now. We were legitimately concerned about Caleb because he kept injuring our kids, so we had to add
ress things with each other. They’re being judgmental and ignorant in all of their behind-my-back whispering about me and how I raise my kids. We didn’t know half the things we knew about raising children when we had the boys, and we know a lot more these days about how to speak and act with our kids. Am I not entitled—no, obligated—to parent based on what the new research shows is the best way?

  She’s quiet because she knows I’m right. We listen to the sounds of the movie playing in the background, each lost in our own thoughts.

  “I left Bryan,” she blurts out.

  “What are you talking about? When?”

  “Four nights ago.” She’s on the verge of tears but desperately trying to keep it together.

  I rush around Jacob’s bed and grab her arms, staring into her eyes. “Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?”

  I’ve been prepared for this moment for over a decade—the one where Dani shows up with a black eye or a fat lip in the middle of the night because Bryan beat her up. No amount of preparation equipped me for the amount of anger flooding my body, though.

  She shakes her head. She’s always been petite, barely over five feet, and she looks even tinier when she’s upset. “He hit Luna.”

  “Oh my God.”

  She nods. “I know.”

  “Oh, honey.” I pull her into my arms. “You did the right thing. It’s going to be okay.”

  “I’m so terrified. Like, all the time. Every second. I have no idea what I’m doing. If he’s going to come get me. If he’ll hurt me or the kids. He’s already ambushed me in the parking lot at the hospital.” Her words come faster as she talks. “But he’s their father. I have to see him. They have to see him. There’s no getting away from him. I—”

  A sharp knock at the door interrupts our conversation.

  FIFTY-NINE

  DANI