Emma finally breaks the silence as we’re pulling into the mall parking lot. “So … I’m really curious.”
“Finally,” I say.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re dying to know about Oscar and me because you’re not sure if he was playing with you in using the whole ‘business meeting’ excuse.”
Her brown skin gets a little ruddier. “Busted.”
“There’s really nothing to tell. He was helping me with a personal problem, but I assure you, my breakup has nothing to do with him.” I pause, figuring I have to make the offer. “If you don’t really want to hang out, I can turn around.”
“No, it should be fun.” Her relief is obvious.
Actually, it is. We spend two hours picking out clothes and I buy a few things that Morgan would never wear. No, that’s wrong because I am Morgan, so no matter what I put on, it’s exactly right. Emma looks adorable in anything, but I can’t find the perfect pair of jeans to save my life.
“They look good,” she assures me.
But I don’t like the way they fit, so I grumble and try again. It takes me fifteen minutes to figure out the problem. I need Tall sizes now because I’m not a pixie anymore. I’m five nine with lots of leg. Average-cut pants won’t work. Now I feel stupid but fortunately Emma doesn’t seem to realize this was the problem. Once I make the switch, I lock on to some pants that make my butt look amazing.
Totally buying these.
My wardrobe needs more casual clothes. I can’t spend the rest of my life looking like I’ve just walked off a photo shoot. Morgan cultivated an aura of perfection but I don’t mind if people realize that I’m human. That means I’ll get dirty occasionally, have bad hair days, or fall down and rip my pants. Resisting those inevitable moments is just a waste of energy better put toward more important things.
I take Emma by the perfume counter, pretending I need to buy a gift, but really, I’m sleuthing. The lady at the counter asks me what I’m looking for, but I don’t know, so I try to describe the scent. “It has mandarin, I think … citrus, and some flowers, maybe lilies…?”
She sprays a few cards, and I keep shaking my head, while Emma is probably thinking I’m so specific. Finally, the assistant brings me a bottle and I recognize it, even before she mists the perfume. This is it, Clinique Happy, which is kind of ironic, considering how Lucy Ellis-Frost ended up. I buy the orange box out of a sense of obligation, relieved finally to be able to name the scent that haunts me.
We wrap up at the food court and I get sushi, sort of in memory of Clay, which is ridiculous because we broke up; he’s not dead. But he’s also not mine anymore, and it aches like a sore tooth, a low throb I can’t shake, because I hardly had any chance to be with him for real. For me most of it was fake, until it wasn’t anymore, and then it was too late.
“This was fun,” Emma says. “We should do it again.”
“Next time we’ll invite Tish and Sarah if you think they’ll come.”
“Are you serious? Everyone wants to hang out with you, it’s just … you used to come off a little scary. No, that’s not it. Aloof, like you were waiting for someone cool enough to approach you.”
Now I can only speculate. “People probably don’t realize that I’m a little shy.”
At least she was in elementary school. I remember clearly how she held my hand like it was a lifeline and wouldn’t let go at recess. Sometimes she cried when I got off the bus before her, and she always, always wanted to be where I was. Though, later, her physical beauty made Morgan outshine me, so others believed I was the moon to her sun; I think I was always a bit braver, more willing to take risks.
Emma goes on, “We all wondered why you liked Liv so much. Not that I’m speaking ill of the dead,” she scrambles to add. “I mean, she seemed nice…”
That’s what you say about someone who left a faint impression. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m still here, still leaving my mark on the world.
Of everyone in the world, why did Morgan like me so much?
Though I can only guess, I say, “Because Liv didn’t wait. She decided we should be best friends in grade school … because of a joke.” Then I tell Emma about Ed Keller’s obsession with comics, how he accidentally created the crime-fighting duo of Frost and Burn.
And for a moment, I sense Morgan nearby. It feels like she’s smiling, one hand on my shoulder, and that she’s totally okay with me passing this on, so I don’t ever forget her—that nobody does, though, to the rest of the world, it’s Liv who’s gone.
I won’t let them forget you. Us.
“Wow,” she says softly, her eyes damp with sympathy. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose your best friend.”
“It’s bad. There are no words.”
I don’t realize I’m about to cry until the tears spill over. Mortified, I dive for a napkin and mop up as best I can. Thankfully, Emma doesn’t say anything else, and we finish our food without additional waterworks. This has probably impacted her image of me and will shape the way she treats me going forward. Because I’m not an ice princess or a heartless socialite or whatever label they’ve slapped on me at school.
I’m just a girl with too many problems and too few friends. But if I’m brave, if I show a little faith, maybe I can change that.
“We should head out.”
I clear the table and we leave the food court just as my phone delivers the message from Oscar: Done. Emma reads over my shoulder but she doesn’t understand how scary or momentous this is. From today on, life will get much more difficult for Creepy Jack. But I couldn’t wait to see what he’d do with the pictures, assuming he kept them. I’m tired of wondering how much worse things can get.
It’s time to find out how this ends.