Post by Free on May 31, 2021 15:59:40 GMT -5
I force the accelerator all the way to the floor. I’m taking the turns on this road too fast, but I don’t care. I laugh. I’ve spent my whole life not caring, but have never felt this numb. It’s worse, I think, than hurting. At least if you’re hurting, you’re feeling something.
My last conversation with Desiree plays on a loop. I wish I could turn it off.
~
I haven’t heard anything from Desiree in a month. I know it’s stupid. It’s really not that different from all the months and years I stayed away, except that had been my choice. Sort of. I’d been protecting her and probably more than that, protecting me.
She’s never…pushed me away like that. Kicked me out, sure. But push me away? With the understanding that I won’t come back this time? I’m starting to think she meant what she said. But there’s only one person I know who might know her better than me.
When I knock on Brooklyn’s door, a guy answers. When I ask for Brooklyn, his face turns sour and I immediately say, “Hi James! It’s so good to meet you!”
I had a 50-50 shot at being right. But this guy has darker features, which more closely matches Brooklyn’s description of James, so I’m pretty confident.
I’m leaning against the doorframe. Partly because it looks cool and partly because I may have had a few drinks before coming here and the world is a little wobbly. He rolls his eyes at me and starts to shut the door.
I slide my foot in the way before he can close it and he says, “I’ll break it off.”
I grin at him. He sounds just like Desiree.
“Come back when you’re sober. Or better yet, don’t come back at all.” His tone is icy, hard.
“James? Who’s at the door?” Her voice is muffled, but it’s obviously Brooklyn. It’s musical.
“Nobody,” he says, eyes still on me. He kicks my foot and slams the door in my face.
“Well that’s not very neighborly,” I yell through the door.
I hear something on the other side of the door. Maybe an argument? Someone slamming their hand on the door? It opens a moment later and Brooklyn stands there. Her cheeks are tinted in an adorable blush.
“Jase!” A huge smile breaks out across her face. It was nice, being around someone who could admit they wanted you there. Desiree rarely did that. I could tell, sometimes at least, but it wasn’t the same.
Brooklyn launches herself at me. For a tiny person, she hits me hard. I almost loose my balance. Then she squeezes me so tightly, for a moment I think she can put all the pieces back together. Then she lets go.
“Brooklyn, don’t go anywhere with him. It’s not safe,” James had moved into the doorway when I wasn’t paying attention. His arms are folded across his chest.
He steps toward her and pulls at her elbow. I notice how gently he’s touching her and it makes something ache deep inside. I brush it away.
She puts both her hands on his arms — this guy works out — and makes pretty firm eye contact with him. I briefly wonder if maybe they need a room. I laugh to myself.
“You promised you would stop doing that.” She adds an exasperated sigh in there for good measure.
“Brooklyn, he’s drunk—“
“James,” she says firmly. “He’s not going to hurt me. Please let me handle this.”
I can see the struggle. His lips tighten and pucker like he’s just tasted something sour. He looks from her to me, back to her again. Makes direct eye contact with me and is probably silently considering all the ways he could murder me and how that dumpster is so conveniently located only fifteen feet behind me. (I know this because I briefly considered puking in it before making my way to the door.) Then he walks away.
Brooklyn closes the door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s a little overprotective sometimes.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“He cares about you,” I say. Those words hurt too. I search for something else, anything else to talk about.
“Are you okay?” she asks, “Because if this is a booty call, I suggest we go back to your place. Mine is kind of full right now. I mean, unless you like an audience.” She winks at me.
I take a step toward her, looking her up and down and smiling. She puts a hand on my chest to stop me from making a bigger fool of myself, I’m sure.
“I’m kidding,” she says. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong,” I say. “That’s so much nicer than ‘what are you doing here, Jase.’ Isn’t it?”
She laughs. “I take it that’s what Desiree said to you today?”
“Nooo,” I say with the world’s biggest smile. I don’t know why. It’s not remotely funny but if I’m not careful, I’m gonna lose it and start laughing again. “She says that every time. It’s almost like she’s not happy to see me.”
A shadow appears in the window next to me and I nearly scream. But I don’t. Nailed it. It’s James, naturally.
“Can we talk? Somewhere your guard dog can’t hear us?” I ask.
She laughs. “Sure. You want me to just drive us around, or—“
“You must come in my car.”
“Jase, I’m not getting in a car with a drunk person.”
“You are.” I laugh. “You just invited me into yours.”
She shoves my arm. “You know what I mean.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t drive here,” I say. But really, she should have more faith in me. Or maybe she shouldn’t. She doesn’t know me, does she? And honestly, I think I’m losing faith in myself.
“Is that your car?” She points to the Toyota RAV4 with the bright, pink “Lyft” sign sitting on the dash.
“Yep!”
“How ‘bout I drive us to your place? Then I can just drive myself home later.”
“I make a mean breakfast,” I say. “Anything you want.” I can, actually. I just usually don’t because I never stay the night.
She rolls her eyes at me, then walks over to driver of the RAV4. I can’t hear what she’s saying but the driver hits the accelerator pretty hard once she’s out of the way, so I assume he’s pissed.
“Ooo. You made him maaad,” I say.
She laughs and grabs my arm and pulls me over to this tiny car I’m not even sure I can fit into.
“What kind of bug of is this?” I ask. I can’t help it. It’s hysterically tiny.
“It’s not a bug, It’s my car. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to walk home.” She steps away from the car like she’s going to leave me out here and I can’t handle that. So I climb into the coffin and close the door.
“Your two best friends are huge,” I say. “Why is your car so small?”
“She can hear you!” Brooklyn says. “But we’re going to forgive you because you’re drunk.”
“That’s what people keep telling me.” I lean my head against the cool glass of the window. It feels good.
The drive is shorter than I remember. So short, I think maybe she jumped through a wormhole or something because there’s no way we got here that quickly.
I don’t really remember what happens after that.
When I wake up, the world is spinning, but at least there’s a girl with her head on my chest. I look down and panic because it’s Brooklyn and my first thought is how Desiree is going to kill me. But then I realize we’re both still fully clothed and the reason she’s here comes slamming back in so hard my chest felts permanently dented.
~
I’m smearing tiny pancakes with maple ricotta and decorating them with fresh fruit when Brooklyn walks into the kitchen. She gives me a big hug, then drops into one of the two bar stools sitting against my kitchen island. Yes, there are two because I bought one under the misplaced assumption that Desiree might be here. Sometimes.
It’s really nice, having her here.
“How are up this early after last night?” she asks laughing.
If Desiree asked me that, I’d make a joke about dipping into my uppers. But I don’t keep that sh*t in my apartment. Plus, no offense to her but Brooklyn will probably never be able to afford my services and the fewer people who know, the better.
I mean it’s not like I’d say yes if she asked me either unless I knew she’d go around me. Then I’d say yes because I’d feel better knowing the stuff she’s using isn’t cut with anything dangerous. I mean more dangerous.
You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this line of work, given I’m such a softie. But people are going to turn to vices, regardless, right? So why not? I found this path by accident and nothing legit has ever been so lucrative. Unless you’re Desiree. Or someone like her.
God. I can’t believe she said that.
I must be scowling into the lacy egg whites I’m adding to plates because suddenly Brooklyn’s arms are around me.
“Whatever she did — if it helps — I don’t think she meant it.”
I had already thought of that. Maybe she meant it, maybe she didn’t, but the message was pretty clear. Did it really matter?
“She re-wrote our whole story,” I say through gritted teeth. I arrange grilled tomatoes and mushrooms on the plate, then slide them across the island. I almost can’t believe I said that out loud. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry.
We sit down. Brooklyn immediately digs into the pancakes.
“These are so good!” she says, smiling at me.
I smile back at her, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. I stare at my plate for a moment. My appetite is gone.
After a moment, her hand is on my shoulder again.
“What story?” she asks quietly.
“The story of how we met.”
I can’t look at her face. I don’t know what I’ll find there but whatever it is, I don’t want to see it.
“It’s hard for her—admitting she cares. I can’t blame her. Her family is...complicated,” Brooklyn says. “I think she’s afraid, actually. But she’d obviously never admit that.” She laughs.
It’s ironic. Anyone who knew anything about Desiree would have assumed the exact opposite, but I know Desiree. Brooklyn is right. I sigh and shove my plate away from me. I let my head drop onto the island, let the cool granite press into my cheek.
“I’ve known her longer than him.” I don’t know where that came from. I guess when you start talking, it’s hard to stop. But I didn’t care if she knew at this point. I wouldn’t have showed up at her apartment last night if I’d been intent on hiding. Either way, it sounds so childish. It doesn’t mean anything. Except that she should’ve picked me.
“What do you mean?” she asks, “I always thought she’d met you sometime in the last few years. She never talked about you before.”
I clench my jaw. That hurt. I guess I should’ve expected that. Desiree was probably protecting me, at least I’d like to think that was her motivation, but it still hurt.
“No,” I say darkly. I’m glaring, but I hope she knows its not at her. “We met in first grade.”
Brooklyn’s hand flies to her mouth.
“We didn’t start being friends until a few years later, but still.” That should count for something, shouldn’t it?
“She was different back then…” I say. “Less guarded, but just as confident.” I smile at the memory. She was amazing before her life fell apart. She is still amazing, just in a different way. She’d changed a lot, but then I had too. “Okay, maybe not just as confident, but she faked it well.”
“Oh my god! You have to tell me everything!” Brooklyn was leaning so far across the table, her hair dragged in her plate. I pushed it aside for her. Then her expression changes, “Sorry! I know this isn’t fun for you. I just want to hear the story.”
I laugh. “I don’t think she’d like that. She thinks of that part of her as dead. I don’t know if that’s true or not. Sometimes I think it’s still in there somewhere I can find it. But I’m different now too. So maybe it doesn’t matter.”
I’d had to be different. To survive her leaving, to survive the hell that became my life after she left. That part hadn’t had anything to do with her. I usually pretend it didn’t happened. It’s easier that way. I’d never told her, or anyone else, that part. I just donned a smile for every occasion and somehow ended up here.
“You said she re-wrote your whole story?” Brooklyn’s green eyes are so soft right now. It’s almost like maybe she cares. But that’s stupid. She doesn’t know me.
“Yes.”
Brooklyn leans her head on my shoulder and just waits quietly. I don’t know what’s holding me back. Desiree’s words still play in my head, but Brooklyn’s not like Desiree. We both came from nothing. Maybe this is something she’ll understand.
“My family was poor. Like can’t afford the brand name Cup o’Noodles poor. The only reason Dez and I even went to the same school was my scholarship.” I move my finger on circles on the countertop. I hate reliving this.
“Word got out. I don’t know how. Maybe because I never had designer anything or new anything. Maybe because I was one of the only kids there without a cell phone. I mean, obviously I pretended to have one. …They made fun of me.
“Dez stood up for me. She defended me. She made me seem cool, likable. I liked the way she saw me. Maybe the other kids saw me that way too after that. I don’t know. But they never made fun of me again.
“Knowing her, maybe she threatened them.” I laugh. “Maybe not. Ace would have pounded them into the ground for messing with his sister anyway. Maybe it was the fact that she was his sister. I don’t know. But, we were best friends after that. Closer than ever. I knew I could count on her. …Until she disappeared.
“Going to her house, I knew I wanted something like that for myself one day and no one was going to hand it to me.” I squeeze my eyes shut as I say, “Then my mom died. It was so stupid. They could’ve saved her, but we didn’t have insurance and couldn’t afford her treatment and it was one those things hospitals are not legally obligated to do anything about.” I’m quiet for a long moment, trying to pull myself out of the hospital where she died.
“And they put me in the foster care system and…well, you know the rest. I made this life for myself.” I gesture around the room, but my eyes are still on the counter, on the loops I’m making with my index finger.
Brooklyn climbs off her chair and wraps both of her arms around me.
“She said that’s who I’ll always be, that poor kid in the lunch line everyone hates. Basically, that I’m not good enough for her,” I grate out. I can barely say the words.
Brooklyn buries her head in my chest and I finally wrap my arms around her.
“That’s not true,” she whispers. “None of it. You’re an amazing friend to her. You’ve made a lot of yourself, clearly. But it wouldn’t have mattered. You started out amazing.”
“You don’t know that.” I force a laugh because I don’t want to cry. What she just said hit home so hard my throat hurts.
“I can’t defend her. But I still don’t think she meant it. Any of it. If she hadn’t wanted you around all that time, you wouldn’t have been,” she sighs. “Like right now, I don’t even know where she lives.”
“She cares about you too,” I say. I squeeze my arms tighter around her.
“I know she does.” Brooklyn’s quiet for a moment, then says, “I actually think, the more she cares, the harder she pushes back, maybe hoping you won’t figure it out. With her dad working all the time and the rest of her family gone…I think it was easier for her not to care. Like if she did, she’d be giving too much away.”
I had figured some of that out already. Except—
“She never talked about her life before moving here.” She looks up at the ceiling for a moment, then back at me. “Maybe with Logan? But not the rest of us. I think it was too painful, since…you know…her mom and brother…”
“Wait. What? Where did her mom and brother go?”
I’d almost forgotten about them, it’d been so long… Whatever happened to Ace?
“They died,” Brooklyn says quietly. “She didn’t tell you?”
My stomach dropped out of my body. Oh Dez… No wonder she didn’t trust anyone. It took me a minute to find my voice. “What happened to them?”
“They died in a car accident… Right before she moved here,” Brooklyn said.
“I always wondered why she just disappeared. She didn’t say goodbye. She just didn’t meet me before school like she usually did and then she wasn’t in any of our shared classes.” I wasn’t sure if I should admit this next part. I guess I’m already in pretty deep. “I tracked her down. It wasn’t easy. We reconnected. I didn’t think to ask about her family and she didn’t tell me. We never went to her house though, so I didn’t think anything. Plus, he would have been in college when we were in high school anyway.”
Did that math check out? I couldn’t remember how much older than us he was. I barely remembered what he looked like. I think his hair was dark, like hers.
My world was spinning again and it has nothing to do with me drinking last night.
My last conversation with Desiree plays on a loop. I wish I could turn it off.
~
I haven’t heard anything from Desiree in a month. I know it’s stupid. It’s really not that different from all the months and years I stayed away, except that had been my choice. Sort of. I’d been protecting her and probably more than that, protecting me.
She’s never…pushed me away like that. Kicked me out, sure. But push me away? With the understanding that I won’t come back this time? I’m starting to think she meant what she said. But there’s only one person I know who might know her better than me.
When I knock on Brooklyn’s door, a guy answers. When I ask for Brooklyn, his face turns sour and I immediately say, “Hi James! It’s so good to meet you!”
I had a 50-50 shot at being right. But this guy has darker features, which more closely matches Brooklyn’s description of James, so I’m pretty confident.
I’m leaning against the doorframe. Partly because it looks cool and partly because I may have had a few drinks before coming here and the world is a little wobbly. He rolls his eyes at me and starts to shut the door.
I slide my foot in the way before he can close it and he says, “I’ll break it off.”
I grin at him. He sounds just like Desiree.
“Come back when you’re sober. Or better yet, don’t come back at all.” His tone is icy, hard.
“James? Who’s at the door?” Her voice is muffled, but it’s obviously Brooklyn. It’s musical.
“Nobody,” he says, eyes still on me. He kicks my foot and slams the door in my face.
“Well that’s not very neighborly,” I yell through the door.
I hear something on the other side of the door. Maybe an argument? Someone slamming their hand on the door? It opens a moment later and Brooklyn stands there. Her cheeks are tinted in an adorable blush.
“Jase!” A huge smile breaks out across her face. It was nice, being around someone who could admit they wanted you there. Desiree rarely did that. I could tell, sometimes at least, but it wasn’t the same.
Brooklyn launches herself at me. For a tiny person, she hits me hard. I almost loose my balance. Then she squeezes me so tightly, for a moment I think she can put all the pieces back together. Then she lets go.
“Brooklyn, don’t go anywhere with him. It’s not safe,” James had moved into the doorway when I wasn’t paying attention. His arms are folded across his chest.
He steps toward her and pulls at her elbow. I notice how gently he’s touching her and it makes something ache deep inside. I brush it away.
She puts both her hands on his arms — this guy works out — and makes pretty firm eye contact with him. I briefly wonder if maybe they need a room. I laugh to myself.
“You promised you would stop doing that.” She adds an exasperated sigh in there for good measure.
“Brooklyn, he’s drunk—“
“James,” she says firmly. “He’s not going to hurt me. Please let me handle this.”
I can see the struggle. His lips tighten and pucker like he’s just tasted something sour. He looks from her to me, back to her again. Makes direct eye contact with me and is probably silently considering all the ways he could murder me and how that dumpster is so conveniently located only fifteen feet behind me. (I know this because I briefly considered puking in it before making my way to the door.) Then he walks away.
Brooklyn closes the door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s a little overprotective sometimes.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“He cares about you,” I say. Those words hurt too. I search for something else, anything else to talk about.
“Are you okay?” she asks, “Because if this is a booty call, I suggest we go back to your place. Mine is kind of full right now. I mean, unless you like an audience.” She winks at me.
I take a step toward her, looking her up and down and smiling. She puts a hand on my chest to stop me from making a bigger fool of myself, I’m sure.
“I’m kidding,” she says. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong,” I say. “That’s so much nicer than ‘what are you doing here, Jase.’ Isn’t it?”
She laughs. “I take it that’s what Desiree said to you today?”
“Nooo,” I say with the world’s biggest smile. I don’t know why. It’s not remotely funny but if I’m not careful, I’m gonna lose it and start laughing again. “She says that every time. It’s almost like she’s not happy to see me.”
A shadow appears in the window next to me and I nearly scream. But I don’t. Nailed it. It’s James, naturally.
“Can we talk? Somewhere your guard dog can’t hear us?” I ask.
She laughs. “Sure. You want me to just drive us around, or—“
“You must come in my car.”
“Jase, I’m not getting in a car with a drunk person.”
“You are.” I laugh. “You just invited me into yours.”
She shoves my arm. “You know what I mean.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t drive here,” I say. But really, she should have more faith in me. Or maybe she shouldn’t. She doesn’t know me, does she? And honestly, I think I’m losing faith in myself.
“Is that your car?” She points to the Toyota RAV4 with the bright, pink “Lyft” sign sitting on the dash.
“Yep!”
“How ‘bout I drive us to your place? Then I can just drive myself home later.”
“I make a mean breakfast,” I say. “Anything you want.” I can, actually. I just usually don’t because I never stay the night.
She rolls her eyes at me, then walks over to driver of the RAV4. I can’t hear what she’s saying but the driver hits the accelerator pretty hard once she’s out of the way, so I assume he’s pissed.
“Ooo. You made him maaad,” I say.
She laughs and grabs my arm and pulls me over to this tiny car I’m not even sure I can fit into.
“What kind of bug of is this?” I ask. I can’t help it. It’s hysterically tiny.
“It’s not a bug, It’s my car. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to walk home.” She steps away from the car like she’s going to leave me out here and I can’t handle that. So I climb into the coffin and close the door.
“Your two best friends are huge,” I say. “Why is your car so small?”
“She can hear you!” Brooklyn says. “But we’re going to forgive you because you’re drunk.”
“That’s what people keep telling me.” I lean my head against the cool glass of the window. It feels good.
The drive is shorter than I remember. So short, I think maybe she jumped through a wormhole or something because there’s no way we got here that quickly.
I don’t really remember what happens after that.
When I wake up, the world is spinning, but at least there’s a girl with her head on my chest. I look down and panic because it’s Brooklyn and my first thought is how Desiree is going to kill me. But then I realize we’re both still fully clothed and the reason she’s here comes slamming back in so hard my chest felts permanently dented.
~
I’m smearing tiny pancakes with maple ricotta and decorating them with fresh fruit when Brooklyn walks into the kitchen. She gives me a big hug, then drops into one of the two bar stools sitting against my kitchen island. Yes, there are two because I bought one under the misplaced assumption that Desiree might be here. Sometimes.
It’s really nice, having her here.
“How are up this early after last night?” she asks laughing.
If Desiree asked me that, I’d make a joke about dipping into my uppers. But I don’t keep that sh*t in my apartment. Plus, no offense to her but Brooklyn will probably never be able to afford my services and the fewer people who know, the better.
I mean it’s not like I’d say yes if she asked me either unless I knew she’d go around me. Then I’d say yes because I’d feel better knowing the stuff she’s using isn’t cut with anything dangerous. I mean more dangerous.
You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this line of work, given I’m such a softie. But people are going to turn to vices, regardless, right? So why not? I found this path by accident and nothing legit has ever been so lucrative. Unless you’re Desiree. Or someone like her.
God. I can’t believe she said that.
I must be scowling into the lacy egg whites I’m adding to plates because suddenly Brooklyn’s arms are around me.
“Whatever she did — if it helps — I don’t think she meant it.”
I had already thought of that. Maybe she meant it, maybe she didn’t, but the message was pretty clear. Did it really matter?
“She re-wrote our whole story,” I say through gritted teeth. I arrange grilled tomatoes and mushrooms on the plate, then slide them across the island. I almost can’t believe I said that out loud. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry.
We sit down. Brooklyn immediately digs into the pancakes.
“These are so good!” she says, smiling at me.
I smile back at her, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. I stare at my plate for a moment. My appetite is gone.
After a moment, her hand is on my shoulder again.
“What story?” she asks quietly.
“The story of how we met.”
I can’t look at her face. I don’t know what I’ll find there but whatever it is, I don’t want to see it.
“It’s hard for her—admitting she cares. I can’t blame her. Her family is...complicated,” Brooklyn says. “I think she’s afraid, actually. But she’d obviously never admit that.” She laughs.
It’s ironic. Anyone who knew anything about Desiree would have assumed the exact opposite, but I know Desiree. Brooklyn is right. I sigh and shove my plate away from me. I let my head drop onto the island, let the cool granite press into my cheek.
“I’ve known her longer than him.” I don’t know where that came from. I guess when you start talking, it’s hard to stop. But I didn’t care if she knew at this point. I wouldn’t have showed up at her apartment last night if I’d been intent on hiding. Either way, it sounds so childish. It doesn’t mean anything. Except that she should’ve picked me.
“What do you mean?” she asks, “I always thought she’d met you sometime in the last few years. She never talked about you before.”
I clench my jaw. That hurt. I guess I should’ve expected that. Desiree was probably protecting me, at least I’d like to think that was her motivation, but it still hurt.
“No,” I say darkly. I’m glaring, but I hope she knows its not at her. “We met in first grade.”
Brooklyn’s hand flies to her mouth.
“We didn’t start being friends until a few years later, but still.” That should count for something, shouldn’t it?
“She was different back then…” I say. “Less guarded, but just as confident.” I smile at the memory. She was amazing before her life fell apart. She is still amazing, just in a different way. She’d changed a lot, but then I had too. “Okay, maybe not just as confident, but she faked it well.”
“Oh my god! You have to tell me everything!” Brooklyn was leaning so far across the table, her hair dragged in her plate. I pushed it aside for her. Then her expression changes, “Sorry! I know this isn’t fun for you. I just want to hear the story.”
I laugh. “I don’t think she’d like that. She thinks of that part of her as dead. I don’t know if that’s true or not. Sometimes I think it’s still in there somewhere I can find it. But I’m different now too. So maybe it doesn’t matter.”
I’d had to be different. To survive her leaving, to survive the hell that became my life after she left. That part hadn’t had anything to do with her. I usually pretend it didn’t happened. It’s easier that way. I’d never told her, or anyone else, that part. I just donned a smile for every occasion and somehow ended up here.
“You said she re-wrote your whole story?” Brooklyn’s green eyes are so soft right now. It’s almost like maybe she cares. But that’s stupid. She doesn’t know me.
“Yes.”
Brooklyn leans her head on my shoulder and just waits quietly. I don’t know what’s holding me back. Desiree’s words still play in my head, but Brooklyn’s not like Desiree. We both came from nothing. Maybe this is something she’ll understand.
“My family was poor. Like can’t afford the brand name Cup o’Noodles poor. The only reason Dez and I even went to the same school was my scholarship.” I move my finger on circles on the countertop. I hate reliving this.
“Word got out. I don’t know how. Maybe because I never had designer anything or new anything. Maybe because I was one of the only kids there without a cell phone. I mean, obviously I pretended to have one. …They made fun of me.
“Dez stood up for me. She defended me. She made me seem cool, likable. I liked the way she saw me. Maybe the other kids saw me that way too after that. I don’t know. But they never made fun of me again.
“Knowing her, maybe she threatened them.” I laugh. “Maybe not. Ace would have pounded them into the ground for messing with his sister anyway. Maybe it was the fact that she was his sister. I don’t know. But, we were best friends after that. Closer than ever. I knew I could count on her. …Until she disappeared.
“Going to her house, I knew I wanted something like that for myself one day and no one was going to hand it to me.” I squeeze my eyes shut as I say, “Then my mom died. It was so stupid. They could’ve saved her, but we didn’t have insurance and couldn’t afford her treatment and it was one those things hospitals are not legally obligated to do anything about.” I’m quiet for a long moment, trying to pull myself out of the hospital where she died.
“And they put me in the foster care system and…well, you know the rest. I made this life for myself.” I gesture around the room, but my eyes are still on the counter, on the loops I’m making with my index finger.
Brooklyn climbs off her chair and wraps both of her arms around me.
“She said that’s who I’ll always be, that poor kid in the lunch line everyone hates. Basically, that I’m not good enough for her,” I grate out. I can barely say the words.
Brooklyn buries her head in my chest and I finally wrap my arms around her.
“That’s not true,” she whispers. “None of it. You’re an amazing friend to her. You’ve made a lot of yourself, clearly. But it wouldn’t have mattered. You started out amazing.”
“You don’t know that.” I force a laugh because I don’t want to cry. What she just said hit home so hard my throat hurts.
“I can’t defend her. But I still don’t think she meant it. Any of it. If she hadn’t wanted you around all that time, you wouldn’t have been,” she sighs. “Like right now, I don’t even know where she lives.”
“She cares about you too,” I say. I squeeze my arms tighter around her.
“I know she does.” Brooklyn’s quiet for a moment, then says, “I actually think, the more she cares, the harder she pushes back, maybe hoping you won’t figure it out. With her dad working all the time and the rest of her family gone…I think it was easier for her not to care. Like if she did, she’d be giving too much away.”
I had figured some of that out already. Except—
“She never talked about her life before moving here.” She looks up at the ceiling for a moment, then back at me. “Maybe with Logan? But not the rest of us. I think it was too painful, since…you know…her mom and brother…”
“Wait. What? Where did her mom and brother go?”
I’d almost forgotten about them, it’d been so long… Whatever happened to Ace?
“They died,” Brooklyn says quietly. “She didn’t tell you?”
My stomach dropped out of my body. Oh Dez… No wonder she didn’t trust anyone. It took me a minute to find my voice. “What happened to them?”
“They died in a car accident… Right before she moved here,” Brooklyn said.
“I always wondered why she just disappeared. She didn’t say goodbye. She just didn’t meet me before school like she usually did and then she wasn’t in any of our shared classes.” I wasn’t sure if I should admit this next part. I guess I’m already in pretty deep. “I tracked her down. It wasn’t easy. We reconnected. I didn’t think to ask about her family and she didn’t tell me. We never went to her house though, so I didn’t think anything. Plus, he would have been in college when we were in high school anyway.”
Did that math check out? I couldn’t remember how much older than us he was. I barely remembered what he looked like. I think his hair was dark, like hers.
My world was spinning again and it has nothing to do with me drinking last night.