CHAPTER TWELVE
ASHLEY
Whitney and I once had a very lengthy discussion about how no one person could actually drink two full bottles of wine. It was like trying to suffocate yourself; eventually, the body gives up and renders you unconscious before you can do serious damage. Bottle and a half? Unlikely, but possible. Two bottles? Impossible.
I uncorked the second bottle and tossed one of Ella's curly straws in there. May as well make it easier.
"What are you doing?" Whitney asked from the kitchen. I noticed she kept a fair amount of judgment out of her voice. That right there was why we were best friends.
"Making history." I raised the bottle up as a toast and took a sip. Then winced. "Jesus. What is this shit?"
"No idea, I just liked the label. I guess I'll add that to my list of Never Again."
"Please do." I took another sip. "God this is awful."
"So don't drink it."
I ignored her and went out to the patio for another cigarette. That had been my entire day while Ella was with Martha: wine, cigarette, wine cigarette. I should have used the free time to do something useful, like study or clean out every scrap of Charlie's presence from the apartment, but here I was instead. Pathetic.
Whitney joined me in the extra chair with a martini and kicked her feet up over the railing. Our view wasn't anything worth writing home about, just a parking lot filled with modestly shitty cars and the occasional couch by the dumpster. Still, we'd often sit out here with drinks and smoke and talk about what life was going to be like after we graduated. My plans were always so very different than hers, but it was fun to dream.
Today wasn’t as fun.
"Are you ready for my opinions on this?"
I looked at her over a long drag. She'd remained uncharacteristically quiet about this whole thing. It was nice to mope and weep in peace. Until now, I hadn't been ready to have someone trash him, either. I was still mourning the boy I loved and didn't want anyone to soil his memory. But it had been a few days and the anger was starting to spark.
"Sure."
Whitney took another drink and watched a car park in front of the building opposite us. "I think you need to cool your heels and wait to talk to him once he's had some therapy. Or, like, a lot of therapy."
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
She watched another car pull out of the next building over, like she was suddenly a freaking expert in parking lots. "That boy has a fuckton of demons, don't get me wrong. And that can be, you know, a problem. But as far as I understand, he only fights with his demons this way because he's refused help in the past. He thought he was stronger than them. Which sounds an awful lot like a certain stubborn roommate I have."
I glared at her and took another sip, like it'd somehow erase the conversation we were having. It didn't, because she kept talking.
"Look, he may not be the guy for you. Maybe he was only placed in your life, right now, to remind you that you can in fact have a life while raising Ella. Maybe he showed up to remind you how amazing sex is, because b-t-w our walls are thin and fucking biscuits, how many orgasms can one girl have?"
Instead of making me laugh, it made me cry. I slapped myself to stop and lit up another cigarette. Whitney squeezed my arm.
Every minute with him had been wonderful up until the very last few. He made me laugh, he made me feel sexy in a way I'd never felt before, and he opened up within me something so raw and powerful and real I thought I'd been remade. I was a whole new person under his touch. I loved that person more than almost anything.
That person... was free.
"I only know what you tell me and what Joel tells me. Joel is the best man I've ever met, Ashley. He makes my life complete because he lets me be me. I trust his opinion more than anyone but you."
I snorted and wiped away smattering of tears. "Right. Because I'm the best person to take advice from."
"Are you kidding me?" Whitney screeched. She spun her chair around so she was looking straight at me. "Ashley Johnson, are you fucking kidding me? Let's give a list of reasons why you are the best person to go to, shall we?"
"Let's not, please."
"Fuck off, we're doing this." Whitney held up her fingers to use as points. "Number one, you rock an amazing GPA despite balancing a million things. You somehow manage to have a job, a kid, and work to support both of those things. Number two, Ella is one of the happiest and sweetest little girls I have ever met in my admittedly short life with children. My nieces are all assholes. Ella is polite and amazing. Everyone loves her. She is that way because you give her a safe and loving space to be in. My mom says that every single time we go to her house for dinner, 'That Ella is such a lucky girl to have her.' Safe space, love, that thing I just said."
I lit up another cigarette while tears flew down my face faster than I could wipe them away. I never did well with compliments as it was, but after the week I had, my heart was torn between embarrassment and a real need to hear that I didn't just ruin everything.
"Number three, you have easily identified every shit boyfriend I'd ever had within like five minutes of meeting him. How are you so freaking intuitive? I don't understand that and it's so unfair. You read people like a book and are practically never wrong."
"Except with Charlie." The words were bitter in my mouth.
"Oh, fuck Charlie. I'm talking about you. Number four, every remedy you've ever thrown together for my endlessly breaking heart has been pure magic. Number five, that's because you care about people more than anyone really should. You're empathetic as hell and, frankly, I don't deserve you as a friend because I'm a pretty shitty human and yet you love me anyway. That is number six."
A laugh spit out between the tears. "You aren't shitty. You're my best friend."
"Well, you have terrible taste but I'm not going to complain because it benefits me in the end. Number seven, is your mother fucking shitty ass brother. Oh yeah, I'm going there. Eddie is the number seven reason why I will trust you over anyone. Technically, it should be number one. Let's pretend I counted down. Shall I outline everything he's done?"
"No."
"Strap on your seatbelt, sisterfriend, because we're going there. Hey, remember that time your family took in your childhood best friend?"
"Whitney." I warned, my throat full and my heart dangerously close to breaking. "Please."
"Remember when she lost everyone and you guys took her in so she would have a family to love her? Remember when your brother knocked her up and your parents kicked her out and you moved out to be with her and the baby? Remember what happened to her?"
I couldn't breathe. I could only nod.
"Remember how, after everything that happened, you took that tiny little baby and gave her a home and a life? Remember how you tell her stories about her mom every night before bed, so she'll know where she came from? Remember how you sacrificed literally everything to be her mom now, the person to raise her and love her and give her more than both Bethany and you ever had? Remember that shit?"
Remember? That was often all I could remember. I remembered every time I looked at Ella's beautiful face, because she looked exactly like her mom and nothing like my brother. Every single day I was grateful I never had to see his awful terrible face ever again.
"You are the best person I know, Ashley Johnson. You deserve the moon and more. One day, someone will come into your lives and they will love you and Ella with the fierce passion you deserve. Maybe that man is Charlie. Maybe it's not. It doesn't fucking matter, honestly, because someone as wonderful as you deserves that happiness. If Charlie is willing to fix himself and be that man, give him a chance. If not? Fuck him. He doesn't deserve you or Ella."
She let me cry on her shoulder for so long the sky went dark. All the pain I'd kept welled up for too long came pouring out and left me feeling lighter, if only by a little. Sometimes a little give was all I needed.
Whitney kissed my cheek. "I love you."
I wiped my cheeks and looked at the wine bottle on the ground. "I guess I'll never find out if I can handle two bottles."
"Nah." Whitney hugged me tight and didn't let go. "I'm sure we'll find out when Ella hits those preteen years."
I laughed, really laughed, for the first time in days. "You're wrong, you know. I don't deserve you."
"Miss him." She said earnestly. "Miss him and know that that's okay. You will still be okay."
We went into to eat ice cream and watch terrible movies, our standard for repairing Whitney's broken heart. I knew she was right. There was a tiny part of my heart with Charlie's name etched in it. That’s not so easy to undo.