Better Off Friends

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  “But I made you that promise,” he reminded me.

  The promise. The one we made before high school about not letting one of us attend a function alone. That lasted for the first half of the year, then I started seeing Ian, and Levi started seeing Carrie. Then we weren’t really speaking. And now he was with Stacey.

  “It’s okay,” I said. Because it was. Would I have fun with Levi at the dance? Of course. But that wouldn’t be fair to Stacey.

  “Macallan?” Levi leaned toward me. “What do you want?”

  It seemed like a simple question, but it wasn’t. With our history, it was as charged as a stick of dynamite. One wrong move and boom — our friendship would be in pieces.

  Was this really a conversation we should be having when he was so vulnerable and I was so … ? I didn’t know what I was, besides confused.

  “I know what I want.” I stood up. Levi looked expectantly. “Pie, I want some pie.”

  I went upstairs. I studied my face in the kitchen window. I knew better. We both did.

  We had both been burned before. There was no way I was going to play with that fire.

  Do you know why I didn’t kiss you at midnight?

  Because you valued your life?

  That. And I didn’t know what you’d do. Probably run away to the Arctic.

  You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?

  Let me think…. Nope.

  Figures.

  Yeah, well, at least I have this one thing over you.

  True.

  And you have so much over me.

  That’s because of your actions, not mine.

  Whatever, Floyd.

  Oh, you’re going to pay for that.

  I have no doubt.

  Oddly enough, starting off a new year with knee surgery wasn’t as bad an omen as I’d originally thought. I did get to miss the first week back at school, so no complaints from me on that one.

  Sure, I was a huge pain after my injury because I was in so much pain. I went through my five stages of grief: I was mad, then upset, followed by angry, which blossomed into frustration, which eventually turned into depression.

  But then Macallan came along, as she so often had, and wouldn’t put up with any of it. If I complained, she wouldn’t let up until I either got over myself or laughed. She carted me back and forth to school. Helped me with my books, cooked for me, did everything I needed, and she didn’t complain once. Unless, of course, I complained. Which was often.

  There was something about her help that calmed me. I didn’t like having my mom fret over me. I didn’t want Dad to think I was soft, even though he understood the severity of my injury more than anybody. And I hated thinking that the guys felt they had to take care of me.

  Oh, yeah, and Stacey. I liked having her around, but things with Macallan were different.

  For a second, on New Year’s Eve, I thought she was going to tell me that what she wanted was me. That she wanted to kiss me. She only paused for a couple seconds, but in that short amount of time, I managed to get my hopes up to a ridiculous height.

  She was one of the last people I saw before I was put under for my surgery, and one of the first people I saw when I woke up. She took the day off school to be with my parents and me. She brought me my homework all week and did these hilarious reenactments of stories involving my friends.

  She even took me to physical therapy. Which I was grateful for, because physical therapy sucked. It hurt. It was the most frustrating thing ever. I had to relearn how to use my knee. Something as simple as bending was painful and difficult. If Mom had been there, she would’ve been worried by the pain I was going through.

  But Macallan stood there and helped me when I needed her. She did her homework while my therapist was working on me. And she gave me the strength to not give up, throw a fit, or cry. Which I wanted to do on a daily basis.

  After a particularly painful session, Macallan sat next to me during my ice and stim.

  “How you feeling?” she asked.

  “Better,” I lied.

  Kim, my therapist, set up my stim machine. “He had a good day today. I have total faith that he’ll only be in his brace at the dance in a couple weeks.”

  “That’s great!” Macallan gave me a big smile.

  Kim patted her on the shoulder. “You may need him to lean on you more when you dance, but you know how boyfriends can be.”

  Macallan gave Kim a puzzled look. “Um, yeah, but Levi and I aren’t …”

  “Oh!” Kim looked at both of us. “I thought, um, I didn’t mean …”

  How often had this happened to us? Too often to count. It made sense that Kim would think Macallan was my girlfriend. I’d told her that I had a girlfriend, I’d talked about Macallan a lot, Macallan was always here with me. But I racked my brain trying to think if I had brought up Stacey by name. Surely, I couldn’t have neglected to mention her name.

  “Sorry,” I apologized to Macallan. Like it was my fault that people always assumed we were together. But maybe it was.

  She shrugged it off. “It’s okay. Maybe if you’d let Stacey come with you …”

  I knew I was an awful boyfriend to not let Stacey help me. But I liked having this time with Macallan.

  “Anyway” — she sat upright — “today was pretty epic at lunch. Keith was all ‘me want food, me hate food in cafeteria, me deserve better.’ ” Whenever Macallan imitated Keith, she pretended he was a Neanderthal, which maybe wasn’t far from the truth. She hunched over and stuck out her jaw. “Then Emily was like ‘Oh. My. Gawd. You’re, like, a picky eater for someone who thinks pizza is a vegetable.’ ” And whenever she pretended to be Emily — or any girl, really — she put on a Valley Girl accent, twirled her hair, and made her eyes really wide.

  It was incredibly entertaining and made the silliest high school encounter hilarious. It was better than actually being there.

  “You’re such a Mean Girl,” I teased.

  “Hey, I’m telling it like it is.”

  “So what else happened today?” I asked. I was heading back to school on Monday and wasn’t really looking forward to it, even though I knew it would be good for me to have some normalcy again. I couldn’t continue to live in my Macallan bubble, no matter how much I wished I could.

  She hesitated. “Well, actually …” She bit her lip; it seemed like she was a little nervous. “You know Alex Curtis?”

  Alex Curtis? He’d graduated the year before. He’d been on the basketball team, and was really good. We’d hung out a few times this summer before he’d headed off to Marquette.

  “Yeah,” I said, harsher than I meant to sound. Alex was a good guy, but I didn’t want Macallan to think so.

  “Well, I ran into him a couple days ago and we were talking, and, um, our moms were good friends.” I could tell Macallan was stalling. “Yeah, so he’s going to be around for the dance and offered to take me.”

  Macallan was going to the winter dance with a college guy? A college guy she apparently had a history with? A college guy she’d talked to a couple days ago without mentioning it to me?

  “Cool” was the only lame response I could come up with.

  Relief flashed across her face. “Yeah, he’s really nice. And I didn’t even think about the dance when we were talking, but he brought it up. He asked who I was going with and when I said nobody, he …” Her cheeks flushed. “He said it was an egregious crime, which he felt it necessary to correct.”

  She giggled.

  I wanted to barf.

  “You like him, right?” she asked.

  Did I think Alex Curtis was a good guy? Sure.

  Did I want to punch Alex Curtis in the face at that exact moment in time? You betcha.

  Why couldn’t I tell her that? Why couldn’t I just tell her how I felt? Why did I fight something I wanted — no, something I needed so badly?

  But then I flashed to Macallan leaving after I’d confessed my feelings for her. How awkward she’d been when she f
irst came back from Ireland. How I hadn’t wanted to drive her away.

  But maybe things were different now?

  I opened my mouth, daring myself to finally man up. “Macallan.”

  “Yeah?”

  The buzzer on my stim machine went off. Kim came over to remove the ice and pads.

  “Levi?” Macallan looked at me with concern. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “Never mind.”

  Time was up.

  I began to focus on what I did have: A wonderful family. An awesome best friend. A group of guy friends. And a girlfriend.

  That was what I needed to concentrate on.

  Stacey insisted on having some people over the Saturday night before my, as Keith had put it, “legendary return to South Lake High School.”

  “There’s my bro,” Keith greeted me now, gently putting me into a headlock. “Dude, we missed you at school. Who else am I going to cheat off during trig?”

  I smiled and played the part of the happy guest of honor. When I maneuvered my crutches and leg brace to the closest couch, Stacey sat down next to me.

  “What can I get you?” she asked. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

  “Just some water, thanks.” I knew I was being grumpy, but I was on some serious painkillers, and even soda made my stomach woozy.

  Stacey got up to get me some water. I watched her move across the room, greeting everybody, being the perfect hostess.

  I realized there was a line of people there to talk to me. I felt like it was a funeral for my football career, with people offering their condolences. Even though the guys kept telling me I’d be fine, I was the one who was speaking to the doctors. They’d confirmed it was going to take several months to get back to somewhat normal, and even then it would be hard for me to pivot and switch directions easily. The best hope I had for senior year was track. Running straight should be fine. At least I hoped it would be.

  I was itching to run so I could clear my mind. And if there was a time in my life when I needed to get focused, work out issues, it was now.

  I smiled politely and thanked everybody who came up to me and told me they hoped I felt better and that I’d be back to running in no time.

  All I could do was sit there. Stacey had disappeared, probably talking to someone else in the kitchen.

  I really needed that glass of water.

  “Hey there,” Macallan said, setting a glass of water and a plate of brownies on the end table. She sat down next to me. “Enjoying your audience?”

  “Oh, I am so happy to see you.”

  “You’re happy to see my brownies.”

  I’d been hesitant when Stacey brought up the idea for the party. In the middle of me giving her reasons for why it wasn’t a good idea (I wouldn’t be up to it, I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me, they’d see me in a few days, I didn’t want a big deal made out of it), she cut me off with “Macallan will be there. She thinks it’s a great idea.” She didn’t say it in a way that led me believe she resented Macallan. She had always understood about my relationship. She knew how things were with us.

  Well, she didn’t know everything about us.

  But Macallan knew Stacey loved her double-fudge brownies.

  “This is fun.” Macallan tried to cheer me up.

  “I guess.”

  “Oh, pardon me.” She sighed exaggeratedly. “Everybody wanted to get together to celebrate that your surgery went well, and they’re happy to see you. It must be so hard to get up in the morning.”

  “Actually, it is hard to get up in the morning.” I gestured at my leg brace.

  She stood up. “I think I’m going to talk to anybody or anything that isn’t so negative. That wall looks tempting.”

  I reached out my hand. “Please don’t go.”

  Stacey came bounding for the couch. “You made it!” she said to Macallan.

  “Yeah, I brought you these.” Macallan gestured to the brownies. I grabbed two more before Stacey took the plate.

  “Yu-um!” Stacey exclaimed. “Thanks so much!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They looked at each other, neither sure what to say next.

  “Um …” I stammered.

  “Hey!” Stacey said brightly to Macallan. “I hear you’re going to the dance with Alex. That’s so cool!”

  “Yeah, it should be fun,” Macallan offered.

  “Awesome!” Stacey looked like she was going to explode from either happiness or nerves. I could never read her right.

  “Is that food?” Keith came over, then stopped in his tracks when he noticed Macallan next to me.

  “Macallan made brownies!” Stacey exclaimed. She held them out to Keith, who clearly had no clue what to do next.

  “Relax,” Macallan said. “I didn’t poison them.”

  He took a bite.

  Macallan continued. “However, I knew you’d be eating them, so I put in a secret ingredient….”

  Keith stopped chewing.

  Macallan stood up and faced Keith. Every nerve in my body was on edge.

  She shook her head. “Keith, I work too hard on my food to waste it on you. Plus” — she leaned in so she was only inches from his face — “you and I both know I don’t need to bake to do damage.”

  She turned on her foot and went to the kitchen.

  Keith was flustered. “Man, that girl. She just … I think I’d be madly in love with her if she didn’t scare me so much. But maybe that’s why I like her. Not like I like like her.” Keith gave up trying to make sense of what happened and walked away, first toward the kitchen, then thinking better of it and heading in the opposite direction.

  Stacey laughed. “Wouldn’t they make a fun couple?”

  I came so close to blurting out, Wouldn’t they WHAT? but stopped myself.

  Apparently my disgust was evident without words. “Calm down!” Stacey’s eyes were wide. “I was just joking.”

  The doorbell rang and Stacey excused herself, leaving me alone at a party that was in my honor.

  I thought about what Keith had said. About how Macallan scared him.

  I knew exactly what he meant. Because she also scared me.

  She scared me because I loved her.

  On a scale from one to ten, how much of a pain was I after my injury? And please be honest.

  Do you think I would hold back on you?

  Unfortunately, no.

  On a scale from one to ten? Thirteen.

  Fair enough.

  Now I have a question for you. On a scale from one to ten, how annoyed were you that I was going to the dance with someone else?

  Infinity.

  It’s funny how quickly your opinion of a dance can change.

  I always thought the idea of a winter dance was silly. It was only three months after homecoming and three months before prom — did we really need another reason to fret over dates, dresses, and the drama that follows such occasions?

  But when a cute college guy asked me to go? Well, who was I to stand in the way of tradition? Plus, we all know how much I loved my distractions.

  Alex took me out to eat the weekend before the dance. It was a nice change to have a guy pick me up instead of my having to constantly take Levi around. While I was more than happy to help him out, it was still a chore.

  I kept glancing over my menu at Alex. He was only a couple inches taller than me, but he was lean, with broad shoulders, dark hair, and dark eyes — almost the exact opposite of Levi. I couldn’t understand why he would want to hang out with me, a high school girl.

  “Hey.” Alex smiled at me. “Do you remember when we were little and we went up to Door County with our moms?”

  My heart warmed at the memory. Our moms had been really close. So, in a way, Alex was my first guy friend. My warm-up to Levi.

  “Yes, but as I remember, you weren’t that excited to be hanging out with a girl. Ew!” I scrunched up my face.

  “That’s because I was an idiot.”


  I did remember that week in Door County when I was six and Alex was eight. We’d gone swimming, went for walks among the cherry trees, and picked our own cherries — our hands and mouths stained red, our bellies full.

  “I remember your mom had this huge hat.” He held his arms out wide. “That hat was epic.”

  That hat. I can still picture her in that black and white striped hat. It flopped nearly over her shoulders.

  “Well, Mom and I have the same pasty white skin tone. Don’t you remember how burned I got?”

  “Yes!” He shook his head. “Your mom took you outside and sprayed you with vinegar.”

  “That stung so much! But it was better the next day.” I’d smelled for a bit, but once the vinegar had evaporated from my skin, it hadn’t been so awful. “Mom had some strange home remedies, but they worked.”

  Alex looked at me thoughtfully. “Is it okay that we talk about her?”

  “Of course.” I knew it would be a disservice if I didn’t celebrate the time I’d had with her.

  At least that was the attitude I tried to have. I still would have my moments when I’d get sad. But I would’ve been worried if that hadn’t happened.

  Alex got quiet. “I’m sorry we didn’t hang out much after.”

  Alex’s mom had joined the parade of casseroles after the funeral. She’d come by every now and then to check up on me, but then life happened. People got busy.

  A smile spread across his face. “I do remember being shocked the first time I saw you freshman year. It was like, ‘Is that little Macallan Dietz? She’s all grown up!’ ”

  I recalled passing Alex in the hallway a few times, and how we’d smile and say hi to each other. But the first time we’d had a real conversation in years was when he spotted me in line at the grocery store.

  Alex continued. “And then I couldn’t believe you had that boyfriend. What was his name — Lewis?”

  “Levi?”