BFF Breakup (mix)

by Taylor Morris

  “Get out!” I screamed, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed.

  Worse, even my dad had plans. His best friend, this guy Adam he went to college with, wanted to “get him out of the house,” as if leaving this wretched place was the right thing for all adults to do. I got a knot in my stomach just looking at Adam. His mustache-less beard didn’t help.

  “Your old dad needs to relax for the night, forget about everything. Don’t you think he deserves that?” he’d asked me with a shine in his eyes. I wondered if he’d been wanting to hang out with my dad for a long time but couldn’t because of my mom or something. I knew Adam had gotten divorced last year. Dad had helped him move out of his house. He was probably just waiting for someone else to split up so he could go to bars and get rowdy, or whatever it is that divorced dads do.

  Ugh. So gross.

  I had to admit, though, Dad looked pretty relaxed as he and Adam had a beer and chomped mixed nuts while they watched the end of some baseball game. He was all showered and shaved and had his shirt tucked in. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought he was going out on a date.

  Double gross.

  “You sure you’ll be alright here by yourself?” he asked as they got their coats to leave. I realized then that he was wearing cologne. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn cologne.

  “I’ll be fine,” I told him.

  “Give Brooke a call, have her come over and keep you company.” He pecked me on the top of my head. “Be good, keep the doors locked, and call me if you need anything.”

  “I will,” I said, and the stinging realization that he hadn’t noticed that Brooke hadn’t been around for weeks hit me.

  Adam clapped my dad on the back and said, “Come on, old guy!” and out they went.

  Standing in the foyer of our house, I felt the immense silence of the empty space. I told myself it’s not that big of a deal to stay home on an occasional Friday night. I didn’t have to go out every single weekend, after all.

  I made myself some pasta and watched TV. I took a long bubble bath, the water so hot that my skin turned red, and I stayed in as long as I could, sweat beading on my forehead at first, then the water turning cool as I started to chill. In my room I goofed around online, watched some more TV, and flipped through a magazine.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Brooke. When I was around my friends it was easy to ignore her and what happened, but when I was home alone with nothing to do, it became impossible to not think about her. I was still angry at her, my best friend, for treating my new friends the way she had. I would never have done that to her—if she’d made new friends, that is. I started to wonder why she’d clung to me so tightly, practically refusing to make new friends. Like we were together or something.

  I missed her, though. Even though it was kind of annoying, like Susanna said, I did sort of miss her smart-alecky ways. I even missed the dumb creek. I wondered if her dad had built that rope swing yet. I hadn’t been out there since our fight. It felt more like Brooke’s territory than mine, even though that’s where we met and where we became best friends. I had no reason to go and besides, I had nice shoes now that I didn’t want to ruin.

  I told myself this whole fight thing was so stupid. How did it all start really? Brooke had been a jerk to my friends and I had snapped back at her. Brooke had completely ignored me and what I’d been going through with my parents so I said something mean to her, which I’m sure she knew I didn’t really mean anyway. So we were both at fault.

  I started thinking about how I was growing up pretty fast, having to deal with my parents’ divorce and Mom moving out. Susanna said that when she looks back on herself before her parents’ split, she was embarrassed at how naïve she was, and how she had to learn to deal with things on her own. “You have to depend on yourself, you know? Because if your parents aren’t looking out for you, you have to do it yourself.”

  So I figured I’d take the situation with Brooke into my own hands and patch things up. Maybe we had been drifting apart since school started, but we were still best friends. One fight couldn’t change that.

  I decided to send her an e-mail, like a peace offering. I didn’t want her to think I was groveling, like begging for her forgiveness or something, but I did want us back as friends. And I guess part of me wanted her to know that I was pretty upset about the way she’d treated and ignored me, but that I was willing to let it go if she could.

  I sat in front of my computer and wrote this:

  Look. I’m sorry about that stuff I said and for not standing up for you that day. Maybe I should have but I’d been so upset about lots of things lately and the way you were basically ignoring me just hadn’t helped. So, if you want to be my friend again, that’s cool.

  I read it over once, making sure it had the right tone and said what I wanted without sounding like I was kissing up to her. I apologized, which was mature of me, and I also told her why I’d been acting the way I had, while subtlety letting her know that she hadn’t been there for me. I had nicely set up the e-mail for her to respond back to me with something like, “Yes, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. You’re right. Let’s move on.” Or something. My message to her practically wrote her own response.

  I hit SEND and felt exhausted. Even not talking to Brooke had become such a chore. At school I had to constantly think about where she was so that I could purposely not look her way. Not to mention, working out the locker schedule so that it wouldn’t be like I was avoiding her, even though I was. It was time to end all that nonsense and just get back to being friends, even if I was being forced to grow up more quickly than her.

  Even though it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, I crawled into bed and got under my thick down comforter. I wondered when she’d get the message. Maybe she was seeing it right now? I doubt she had plans for the night, either. I’d seen her sitting with a couple of different people at lunch, but nothing solid. She was probably just as eager to hang out with me again as I was with her.

  24 BROOKE

  MY HANDS SHOOK AS I READ HER MESSAGE Sunday morning, my breath coming in shallow gasps. As a million thoughts raced through my mind, one was loud and clear: She’s worse than I thought.

  So she’s letting me be her friend again. Wow. I should bow down to the friend gods and thank them for allowing me to still be in the presence of someone like her. I get to be Madeline’s friend again! Hooray for me!

  Honestly, I was stumped. She really had no clue what had happened. I wondered what the story was in her head, the reason why we weren’t talking. I stared at her e-mail and tried to get inside her thoughts. What would Madeline tell herself? That it was all my fault because . . . I was too dumb to see how totally awesome her friends were? That it was my fault because . . . I’m a bad friend since my parents are still together and I couldn’t possibly understand what she’s going through? And which stuff was she sorry about? The things she said about my mom or the part where she basically called me a loser?

  I hit REPLY and wrote back.

  Thank you so much for forgiving me and allowing me to be your friend again. What would I do without an amazing person like you in my life? No one is as wonderful and caring and understanding as you. I will forever be in your debt for giving me this second chance to be your friend. LYLAS! BFF!

  —Madeline’s Best Friend

  I stared at the monitor, my cheeks hot and my jaw clenched. Sitting at the kitchen computer, I no longer saw the Madeline that raced in front of me on her four-wheeler, her hair whipping behind as she turned to make sure I was following closely, a huge smiled stretching across her face. I didn’t think of the Madeline who danced with me at the end-of-the-year dance and promised me we’d always be friends, no doubt about it. All I could think of now was this person who was so selfish that she actually thought she could anoint me her friend again, just like that. Hey, it’s cool. I allow you to enter my world again.

  I’d been so desperate to get a single word from her these last coupl
e of weeks. Even a look, a brief glance, would have been something. The way she totally ignored me left me feeling stunned and crushed, thinking she couldn’t even stand the sight of me. Had I done something so horrible that warranted never even setting eyes on me again? Really?

  Then I finally got a peep from her and it’s this? Maybe I’d been missing her for the last couple of weeks, but staring at the e-mail, I started to realize it was the old Madeline I missed, the one who was a true friend all through elementary school. Not this one who emerged the day we walked through the doors of West Junior High. I missed the Madeline who invented the slap, tap, and bump, and who understood me with just one word.

  I deleted my message and wrote a new one.

  *Maybe* you should have stood up for me? Well, uh, I guess I should say thanks for apologizing . . . ? That was AWFUL of you, choosing your new friends over your best friend. And this whole thing of me ignoring you? How could I have been ignoring you if I saw you and spoke to you every day—except on the weekends when you were hanging out with your new friends? I’m sorry for not liking your new friends. They’re not my style and that’s fine. To each her own. You left some things out in your grand apology, though. Not one single word about my mom? Really? And what about the things you said about me? I’m sure it was oh-so-difficult for you to write me, but why bother when you’re not even going to be honest? Way to leave out the worst thing you did and pretend it didn’t happen. But it did happen, and I haven’t forgotten.

  I stopped writing. My jaw hurt from clenching it and my shoulders were up by my ears. I took a deep breath and looked back at what Madeline had written to me. She didn’t really care about anything but herself. I wanted to be there for her as her parents got divorced but she never seemed to want me. Susanna, the divorce expert, was always there. I get that Madeline would rather talk to someone who knew more of what she was going through, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t help in some way too. I thought she didn’t want me around as much, that she wanted some space or something as she tried to figure out her life with split parents. I’d been guessing at what she wanted because she never told me. How was I supposed to know I was doing something wrong or falling short of her expectations as a friend if she didn’t say a word?

  No matter what I wrote back, it would only fuel things. I realized, with resigned finality, that Madeline and I couldn’t be friends anymore. She thought I was a bad friend. She said and did horrible things to me, things that she had no excuse for and couldn’t even apologize for. Even if I did suck it up this time and patch things up with her for the sake of our friendship, how would I know she wouldn’t do it again? How could I trust her?

  I deleted my message and signed out completely. I wasn’t even going to respond.

  I went to my room and lay on my bed, resting my head on a pillow of stuffed animals. I pulled out the one closest to me—a gray kitten I never got around to naming—and tried not to cry. Then I gave up and just cried. As I bawled like a baby once again over Madeline, I told myself that this was the last time. I’d give myself this moment and then I would pick myself up and move on. I had to. I couldn’t keep wondering if we would work things out and how we might be friends again. I couldn’t keep hoping things would go back to normal because it was clear now they never would.

  I cried over her because I loved her and I missed her so much. I cried because I was mad she was doing this to us and because it was clear that she didn’t love me anymore. I didn’t love her like a sister, because Madeline and I were even closer than Abbey and I. She was something bigger than that, to me anyway. Clearly the feeling wasn’t mutual. Instead of trying to make it work and accepting blame for something I didn’t do, I just had to cry it all out, then move on.

  It’s such an amazing feeling knowing you have friends who will be there when things get rough. Even though Corrine and Lily and I have only been friends for a week or so, I hoped that when I called, they’d step up. And they did.

  I didn’t actually call, though; I IMed. I asked if they wanted to go get some ice cream or go to a movie or something, anything. The morning had been terrible and I didn’t want to spend the day moping around the house.

  Must get out of house, I wrote. STAT!!

  Sounds like an emergency, Corrine wrote. We’re there!

  My dad said he’d take us to the Brentwoods, Lily wrote, referring to a shopping area that had an upscale ice-cream shop that always smelled like fresh waffle cones and liquid chocolate.

  Getting in the Bat Mobile now, Corrine wrote. Stand by!

  See? I thought to myself. Real friends.

  When I slid into the back of Lily’s dad’s Audi, both girls asked, “You okay?” And because Lily’s dad was right there, I smiled and said, “Yeah! Good!”

  He dropped us off at the end of the shopping area so we could walk around and maybe stop somewhere else besides the ice-cream place.

  “I like coming here,” Lily said as we strolled down the walk, “because it’s like the places we usually go but kind of fancy. I like to pretend we’re grown-up and doing some shopping while our kids are at lacrosse or something.” I could see her blush, even in the setting sun. “I guess that’s pretty dumb.”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  “Of course not,” Corrine said, walking in the middle, her hands in the pockets of her baggy jeans. Lily was dressed in pressed khakis and ballet flats. They looked like total opposites but neither seemed to care. I’d never think Corrine would hang out here on her own. I might not either. I was already seeing that Lily was the type of girl you just didn’t mind doing things with that you wouldn’t normally do. Probably because she so rarely asked you to. “These stores are kind of cool. And the ice cream really is much better than the mall, even if it is more expensive.”

  “My mom says sometimes you have to pay for quality. It’s just a matter of knowing when it’s worth it,” Lily said.

  As we walked down the wide sidewalks, past ornate cast-iron lampposts that were just turning on, Corrine said, “So . . . everything okay with you, Brooke?”

  I didn’t say anything at first, trying to decide how I would phrase it and how much I should tell them. I figured at this point I should just let it all out, but part of me felt bad about dumping all my problems on them when we’d just become friends. Another part still felt like I was betraying Madeline by complaining about our fight.

  I decided to just jump in and tell them. “I’m kind of freaking out. You know my best friend, Madeline?”

  “Of course,” Lily said. “You guys are fighting, right?”

  A lump formed in my throat, and a flash of her laughing face crossed my mind. “Actually, well . . . we’re not friends anymore.”

  “At all?” Corrine asked. I shook my head and felt the tears welling up. I just needed to get through this, and then everything would be okay.

  “Oh, no,” Lily said. The girls slowed their pace and waited for me to talk.

  “I didn’t tell you guys, but we got into this awful fight on the phone.” I shook my head. “She said some really terrible things to me.”

  “Like what?” Lily asked.

  I didn’t want to tell them. It was embarrassing, knowing my own best friend thought I was some burden who didn’t have a life. I wasn’t about to say those things out loud, so I said, “Imagine the parts of yourself that you like the least. Like, any insecurities you have. Then imagine your best friend throwing those things in your face and being all, ‘That’s the kind of person you are.’” I bit my lip to keep from crying. “That’s pretty much what she said to me.”

  “Whoa,” Corrine said.

  “I know,” I said. “It was all way below the belt.”

  “For sure,” Corrine said.

  “That was the last time we talked, and then this morning I got an e-mail from her, sort of apologizing.”

  “Well, that’s great!” Lily said. “I’m sure she didn’t mean those things she said.”

  “What did the e-mail say?” Corr
ine asked.

  “She said she was sorry for not standing up for me that day in cafeteria with Susanna. Then she said, and I quote, ‘If you want to be my friend again, that’s cool.’”

  “What?” Corrine asked. “Please tell me you’re making that up.”

  “I wish.”

  “Hardcore,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Oh, Brooke, I’m so sorry,” Lily said.

  “Me, too,” said Corrine. “I mean, dang.” Corrine kept her eyes on the sidewalk, her mouth curled in a slight snarl.

  “She’s just different this year,” I said. “Her parents are getting divorced and I tried to be there for her but every time I offered to help, like to go to her place or invited her to mine, she said no. It’s like she only wanted to hang out with Susanna. But maybe I’m being too hard on her. Her parents are getting a divorce after all. Maybe she’s just really upset about that and doesn’t mean to take it out on me.”

  “No way,” Corrine said. “I’m sorry, but don’t even say that. Best friends don’t treat each other like that, no matter what’s going on in their lives. Going through something bad doesn’t give you the right to treat people poorly. It’s not like it’s a free pass or something.”

  “I guess,” I said. “She’s basically had this attitude lately, even before her parents said they were splitting. It’s getting old. Maybe she’s just been looking for an excuse to get rid of me.” I heard myself saying these things about Madeline, but I wasn’t sure yet how I felt about it—talking bad about her. It was strange. I didn’t like it, but I also was too angry and hurt to care too much. And maybe saying these things out loud would help me get over her more quickly. If I said them, maybe I could convince myself they were true.

  “Forget her,” Corrine said.

  “We’ll never do anything mean to you,” Lily said. “We promise.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

  We walked up to Sophie Rose Creamery, and when Lily opened the door, the amazing fresh scent washed over me. I wasn’t so immature that I thought a fresh waffle cone of cake batter ice cream could make everything okay, but it did make me feel happy, even if just for a moment.