by Hazel Kelly
“I’m looking forward to round three.”
“I suppose that’s the best report you could give.”
“I left right after though,” she said. “He said his sister was coming by in the morning, and I’m not trying to meet his family yet.”
“Understandable.”
“And I wasn’t dressed for a pleasant walk of shame.”
“You mean uber of shame.”
“Whatever.”
She set her drink down on the coffee table, plopped on the couch, and reached down to start undoing her shoes which looked so complicated I was surprised she didn’t ask for help.
“What are you watching?” she asked.
“I’ll give you one guess.”
“High Fidelity?”
“Bingo,” I said.
“Did I miss the bit about the Monday tape?”
“Unfortunately.”
“What about when he’s sorting his record collection autobiographically?”
“Yep.”
“Damn. I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“You’d have to get a record collection first.”
She rolled her eyes. “Minor detail. So we’ve missed all my favorite parts?”
“Pretty much.”
She leaned forward for her drink. “But not yours I take it?”
I shook my head.
“How soon is it?”
“It’s the next scene.”
“Oh,” she said, slouching into the cushions. “I’ll shut up then.”
I smiled and hit play.
We both watched the proposal scene in silence together for what must have been the hundredth time, pursing our lips as the day drinking John Cusack asks his ex-girlfriend to marry him because he’s sick of fantasizing about other women, because she’s the only thing he doesn’t seem to get sick of.
And the whole time he was talking my heart was in my throat, and I couldn’t help but feel for the guy’s sad reach at romance.
When the painful scene ended, I realized Fiona was staring at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I lifted the remote and hit pause, turning towards her. “Can I ask you something?”
She swirled her drink so the ice clinked against the glass. “Anything.”
“If I knew your boyfriend was cheating on you, would you want me to tell you?”
“Are you the person he’s cheating on me with?”
“What? No.”
“Then yes.”
“And if I was the person?”
“I’d want you to both fuck off and never speak to me again unless you had really good news, like you both had herpes or something.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Not as fucked up as that question,” she said, pulling her feet up on the couch and tucking them underneath her. “Why are you asking me that?”
“You know how we saw Chelsea out with that guy?”
“Yeah.”
“And I tried to convince myself she just knew him somehow and that it wasn’t sketchy.”
“Well, it’s not like we saw anything.”
“Yeah, but how much do you have to see before you say something?”
“I don’t know.”
“Like what if I knew she lied to Aiden about where she was that day?”
She cringed. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said. “And it gets worse.”
She swallowed.
“I know she’s on Tinder.”
“How?”
“Cause she popped up when I installed the app on Alex’s phone.”
“Shit.”
“I know.”
“She’s too old for him.”
“Apparently she’s not.”
“Wow, so she really sucks then.”
“Yeah.”
“And Aiden has no idea?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“And you don’t know if you should tell him?”
I nodded.
“Well, my first reaction is that you definitely should because that’s horrible.”
“I know.”
“But you’re probably the last person he wants to hear something like that from.”
I swallowed.
“Especially because if he does know and they’re trying to work through it or something, it could make things really awkward between you guys if he thinks you don’t approve.”
“Right.”
“Which you don’t.”
“And never have.”
She blew air out between her lips.
“I mean, ideally I could help him figure it out on his own in a roundabout way. Then how he handles it is up to him.”
“How are you supposed to do that?”
“I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”
“I’ve got shit,” she said, “but promise me if you ever find out I’m being cheated on, you’ll let me know.”
“Of course.” I leaned forward and set the bowl of popcorn on the table.
“Lucy?”
“What?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you ever wish he would stop being such a fool and ask you out?”
“What?! Of course not.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
“I’m only asking because I don’t know why else you wouldn’t tell him.”
“If I wanted to be with him I would tell him though. I would tell him right away.”
She pursed her lips.
“I just can’t figure out how to tell him without hurting him.”
“But aren’t you still-”
“Hurting him by omission? Yeah, I am.”
Fiona sighed.
“Even if I tell him, though, he’s just going to break up with her and find another stupid model to date that won’t be good enough for him either.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Excuse me?”
“Face it. There’s only one girl who you think is good enough for him.”
“That’s not true. You know I don’t believe there’s only one right person out there for everyone.”
“Except when it comes to Aiden.”
“Come on, Fi. That’s not fair. This isn’t about me.”
“No, it’s about him. It’s always about him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can’t believe I never realized it until now.”
“Realized what?” I asked. “There’s nothing to realize.”
“Does he know how you feel?”
“We’re friends.”
“Only because neither of you has ever had the guts to try and be more.”
“That’s not why.”
“Forgive me then. I’m totally off base.”
“He’s not interested in me in that way.”
“How do you know?”
“Cause I’ve known him longer than I’ve known myself,” I said. “And he doesn’t think about me like that.”
“Of course he does.”
“No, he doesn’t.” I folded my arms across my chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fine, I’m crazy, and you’re happy the way things are, going on date after date so you can meet a guy who’s exactly like a guy you already know who’s crazy about you.”
“He’s not crazy about me,” I said. “If he was, something would’ve happened by now.”
She shook her head. “You know what I think the problem is?”
“Oh here we go.”
“I think the problem is that he has too much damn respect for you.”
“How is that a problem?”
“Because if he didn’t, he would’ve already shoved you against the wall and stuck his tongue in your mouth.”
I swallowed. “Do you think so?”
“I know so,” she said, draining her drink. “And if your mouth weren’t so full of bullshit excuses, there might actually
be room for it.”
Chapter 6: Aiden
When Chelsea got home, I was ready and waiting.
“Hey, babe,” she said when she saw me on the couch.
She was in skin tight jeans and a halter top.
“Hi,” I said, leaning back on the couch. “I hope you didn’t give any of Grandma Rose’s friends a heart attack wearing something like that to volunteer.
She laughed. “No, I wore a t-shirt over this when I was there and then took it off on my way home.” She plopped her bag down on the table. “I can’t believe how hot it’s been all day, can you?”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I said. “I had other things on my mind.”
“Oh really?” she asked, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Like what?”
“First tell me how your Grandma is doing.”
Chelsea took a big sip of water and then held the bottle on the back of her neck. “She’s good. Really good.”
“And all her friends at the nursing home?”
“Great.”
I pursed my lips and nodded.
“Why do you ask?”
“That’s a good question.” I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees. “I guess because I thought there was a teensy chance you might tell me the truth.”
“What?”
“But since that didn’t happen, I’ll give you another try.” I fixed my eyes on hers. “Where were you today?”
“I told you. I was volunt-”
I raised a hand. “I’m going to have to stop you there.”
She lowered the bottle of water down beside her.
“See, I decided to surprise you earlier.”
“Oh?” She walked around the counter and hoisted herself up on one of the bar stools.
“Yeah, I thought it had been too long since I paid Grandma Rose a visit.”
She swallowed.
“So I went to the nursing home, and you’ll never believe who I saw there.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Not you.”
“Look, Aiden. I can explain.”
“Great. Now would be a good time.”
She looked down at her lap.
“Are you trying to think of a lie or-”
Her eyes started to well up with tears. “I was organizing a surprise for you, okay? But now everything is ruined.”
“That’s sweet,” I said. “And what about all the other times you were volunteering over the last few months? Were you organizing a special surprise for me then, too? Because Grandma Rose said she hasn’t seen you since March.”
She froze.
“And I checked my text messages, and you’ve volunteered at least eight times since then.”
She stared at me without blinking.
“And you’ve slept over at Bianca’s even more times than that.”
She pursed her lips.
I stood up. “So whatever the surprise is, he must be really special.”
“You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Who is he?” I asked, stepping up in front of her.
“There is no he.”
“Come on, Chelsea. I think as your boyfriend I have a right to know who the fuck you’ve been wearing your black panties for.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“I would never cheat on y-”
I slammed my fist down on the counter. “Enough!”
She leaned back.
I flattened my hand and took a deep breath. “Enough of your bullshit already,” I said. “Aren’t you tired of putting on this charade? Just fucking tell me what I already know.”
She shook her head.
“Tell me.”
“It was just one time.”
“With how many guys?” I asked.
“How dare you!”
“No,” I said. “How dare you! I trusted you. With everything.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes I did.”
Her lips formed a straight line. “You might’ve trusted me with your money and your car keys and your family, but you never trusted me with your heart.”
“And it’s a good thing, too, huh? Cause it turns out it wouldn’t have been safe with a slut like you anyway.”
“I’m not a slut!” she said.
“Really? Cause I think that’s exactly what you are if you’d take my money and sleep in my bed and open your legs to someone else behind my back.”
Her bottom lip started to shake.
“If you’ve got no loyalty, I’ve got no use for you.”
“Aiden, please.”
“Did you even feel bad? Lying to my face and then fucking other guys. Are you even sorry?”
“Of course, I’m sorry.” Her eyes began to water. “I never meant to hurt you.”
I laughed. “That’s weird. Cause it feels like you meant to hurt me over and over again, and I’m done.”
She covered her face and wailed into her palms.
“You must have thought I was so pathetic, trying to work on our relationship while you busted other guys down. What did those guys ever do for you, huh? Did they treat you better than I did? Did they?!”
“No,” she said, holding her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I swear I never meant to hurt you.”
“Well, you didn’t. You only hurt yourself. Now get the fuck out.”
Her hands dropped from her face and she looked at me. “What?”
“You heard me.” I took a step back so she would have room to get down off the stool. “Get the fuck out.”
“But I live he-”
“No you don’t. We’re through. Get out.”
“But I love you, Aiden.”
I shook my head. “You have no idea what it means to love somebody.”
“But-”
“Save it. Your words are even emptier than you are.”
“Aren’t you going to give me another chance? I said I was sorry.”
“Are you completely deluded? I’ve given you too many chances as it is.”
She slid off the stool and stepped towards me, laying her hands on my chest. “But don’t you still love me?”
“No.”
Her face fell.
“To be honest, I don’t even like you anymore.”
She crossed her arms and hugged herself. “I need time, Aiden. I have nowhere to go.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you fucked around. Why don’t you pack your things and go wherever you go when you’re volunteering? They always seem to be happy to have you there.”
“I can make it up to you. I know I can.”
“No, you can’t. Because you’re leaving. Right now.”
Her lips fell apart.
“Your suitcase is open on the bed. Whatever you don’t take, I’ll mail to you when you have an address.”
“I can’t believe you’re throwing me out.”
“I can’t believe what a loose, lying bitch you are.”
She stormed around me and went down the hall. I followed her because even though I didn’t have much that couldn’t be replaced, I knew now that I could no longer trust her farther than I could see her.
True to her usual dramatics, when I came in the bedroom, she was yanking drawers open like she was deliberately trying to rip them off their hinges.
“Easy,” I said. “My furniture doesn’t like to be jerked around either.”
She glared at me while she grabbed handfuls of clothes and piled them in her open suitcase. A few minutes later, she huffed past me into the hallway. I watched her march to the bathroom, emerging a minute later with her patterned toiletry bag half open. I leaned against the wall as she shoved it into the mix.
“I know you think you’re angry with me,” I said, “but this is your fault. It didn’t have to end this way.”
She sat on the suitcase and zipped it.
“If you’d told me you were unhappy, I would’ve bent over backwards trying to f
ix what was broken.”
She set the bag down on the floor and rolled it up to me. “You know what’s really fucked up?”
“What?”
“You think I’m the problem.”
“Excuse me?”
“You think I cheated on you because I’m defective or something.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“But that’s not why I did it.”
I rolled my shoulders back. “Why did you do it then?”
“I did it because I could.”
I felt a drop of spit land on my cheek.
“I did it because you’re too nice.”
I wiped the spit away.
“Because you’re too trusting, Aiden.”
I clenched my fists.
“You made it so easy to cheat. Too easy.”
I pursed my lips.
“You might think you’re rid of me, but I won’t be the last girl that cheats on you. Mark my words.” She stormed out into the hallway and rolled her suitcase down the hall.
I followed behind her, grabbing a hanger out of the laundry closet on the way by.
“Goodbye, Aiden,” she said, throwing the front door open.
“You forgot something, Chelse,” I said, holding up her black bra and panties.
She snatched them out of my hand.
“I’m sure you’ll be needing those,” I said.
And then I slammed the door in her face.
Chapter 7: Lucy
I left a trail of wet footprints as I walked down the hall towards my room.
“I think I heard your phone ring while you were in the shower,” Fiona said as I squeaked by her door.
“Thanks,” I said, shutting myself in my room. I unplugged my phone from where it was charging on my dresser. The missed call was from Aiden, but he hadn’t left a message.
I looked up from the phone and into the mirror, staring at the drops of water dripping from the ends of my hair to the top of the towel that was wrapped around me. Then I held my arm out. The straight scars below the inside of my elbow were red from the heat of the shower and felt fresher today because I’d had a cutting dream.
Even though six years had passed since I’d drawn my own blood, I still dreamt about it. They weren’t the kind of dreams where I could watch from outside myself either. Instead, they were vivid and full of palpable stress.
When I was in them, I could feel the anxiety of being desperate to find a safe place to cut, the anticipation of pressing the razor into my flesh, and the relief that came when I dragged it against my skin and started to bleed.
