Eighteen
I came home from work one afternoon and found Cara and Ansel having what appeared to be a deep and serious conversation.
“What’s up?” I asked, my heart dropping into my feet. Ansel plastered on a smile and got up.
“Just having a chat, and I’m on my way out. I have a hot date tonight.” His smile turned from fake to genuine. I glanced at Cara who was also trying to smile.
“Oh, yeah? You think this is the one?” He burst out laughing.
“You know that I never got to have my casual dating days when I was younger, so I have to make up for lost time. I can see myself getting married. Maybe in ten years.” I had the feeling if he met the right girl, he would be all in. We were similar that way. Once we met someone we liked, we stuck with them and that was it. Like when I’d met Cara. I looked at her and decided that she was going to be my best friend and here we are.
“Well, enjoy your casual date, and I demand full details afterward.”
“Me too,” Cara added. Ansel gave me a hug and a salute on his way out. I put my bag down by the door and sat on the couch with Cara.
“Do you want to order something for dinner? I don’t really feel like cooking.” She was quiet for a minute. Was I just supposed to pretend I hadn’t walked into something?
“Yeah, sounds good. I’m fine with whatever you want.” She got up and left the room, but I followed her.
“What were you talking about with Ansel?” I asked as I shut the door of her bedroom.
“Oh, nothing. Just regular stuff. Stressing about school.” We both knew that wasn’t what she’d been talking to Ansel about. Did I let it go, or poke at the wound in hopes that it would help?
I opened my mouth and closed it. I couldn’t. I was the worst at this kind of stuff. I didn’t do confrontation. Not that this was like calling someone out for being a dick, but I didn’t want to hurt Cara. I didn’t want to annoy or harass her. Maybe she had been talking to Ansel about me.
“Is it me?” I blurted out.
She turned around from where she’d been fiddling with things on her dresser.
“What?”
“Is it me? That you’ve been talking to your therapist about and were talking to Ansel about? Is that why you can’t talk to me about it? Things have been a little weird, and I just need you to tell me it’s not me.” The words can out in a rush, as if from a broken faucet. I guess I’d been holding a lot in and I couldn’t anymore.
Cara looked at me as if I’d hit her and then she shook her head.
“No, Loren, it’s not you. It’s me.” I would have laughed if I had been in any kind of position to.
“Are you sure?” I needed confirmation. She nodded.
“It’s all me,” she said, giving me a sad smile.
“Okay,” I said, but that wasn’t really an answer. At least, it didn’t feel like one. I was worried and confused.
I’d pushed too hard already, so I had to let it drop. I took a breath and started to back out of her room.
“Okay,” I said again, opening the door so she could have her privacy.
“Loren,” she said, and her brown eyes were full of anguish. A few tears glittered there as well. My heart twisted and I didn’t know what to do.
“It’s okay, Care. I promise. I just wanted to make sure.” I left the room before she could say anything else and shut myself in my room for the rest of the night.
Everything had been going fine, but still, there was something going on.
I called my mom, because who else was I going to call?
“Something is up with Cara. Has she talked to you?” I asked.
“No, she hasn’t. I did sense a little melancholy, or something else going on. She won’t talk to you?” I didn’t know if Cara had told my mom about the therapy, and I didn’t want to be the one to share that with Mom if Cara wanted to keep it secret, so I told her that Cara was talking to Ansel, but she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, talk to me about it.
“I got all paranoid that she was angry at me, or regretting everything, or that she wanted to move out, or a hundred other things. I kind of attacked her and she said that it was something to do with her, but she wouldn’t give me any other details. We’ve always been able to talk about absolutely anything, so I’m at a loss with what to do. Should I just leave her alone?” I was a mess. My best friend was going through something and I couldn’t help her. It broke my fucking heart.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry that you’re going through this. But I think the best thing you can do is back off and let her come to you. If you keep trying to get her to open up, she’s going to close up even more. Give her time. I’m sure she’ll come around, okay?” Doing nothing didn’t feel like an option, but I guess that was what I was going to have to do. Nothing.
I hated doing nothing. It was like giving up. I would never give up on Cara, but I guess I had to let her come to me. Everything inside me screamed to run to her room, sit her down, and make her tell me everything over ice cream, but that wasn’t going to work, and it might hurt Cara even more. The only thing worse than doing nothing, would be to cause her to not want to be my best friend anymore.
“Thanks, Mom.” I hung up with her, not really feeling better, but at least I had sort of a plan. A nothing plan.
I couldn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined knocking on Cara’s door and crawling into bed with her, holding her until she broke down and told me. But I couldn’t. I had to wait, and the waiting was already killing me.
I didn’t have to work the next day, which was a blessing, because I never really got to sleep. I just stayed up all night trying to read or watch something to distract my mind from Cara.
I heard her get up and leave the next morning, but she didn’t say goodbye like she usually did when she left for work. We always said goodbye when one of us was leaving, even if it was just to walk up the street to get some coffee. Not today.
I lay in bed not wanting to get up or do anything. I stayed horizontal until my stomach and my bladder forced me to get up and take care of my body’s needs, but then it was right back to bed. I forced myself to do some reading and made my way through a biography of Hillary Clinton. Thankfully it was more than interesting so, for a little while at least, I wasn’t thinking about Cara. I finished the book and then I didn’t know what to do next, so I put my hand in my pants and got a little busy. Nothing could take your mind off everything like a solid orgasm. Only problem was, Cara kept popping up there no matter what I did. I kept thinking about her hair and her face and her laugh, and even my fantasies of Cate Blanchett in a suit weren’t distracting me from. Frustrated, I stopped and realized that I should probably get the fuck out of the house. Maybe a change of scenery would be a better distraction.
I put on my shabbiest pair of yoga pants and a tank top that said “I’M SORRY I’M LATE, I DIDN’T WANT TO COME” and my favorite pair of sandals. My hair went into the messiest of ponytails and then I was ready to go.
I put on my noise-cancelling headphones and started walking. We lived not far from a really nice park, so I made my way there, and it looked like I wasn’t the only one who had that idea. I passed tons of people walking their dogs, and with babbling babies in strollers, and runners doing their thing.
I put on some loud and crashy music that made my eardrums hurt and set a brisk pace. I was exhausted as hell, but I was going to sleep tonight, even if I had to start running. Perish the thought.
After making three loops of the fairly large park, I sat down on a bench and stretched my legs out.
“Fucking fuck,” I muttered to myself. “This is not working.”
I went home and took a shower and went back to laying around until Cara came home. I sat up the second I heard the door open, waiting for her to come and find me.
She didn’t.
My heart sunk and I crawled back under my covers, pulling them up to cover my face.
Then there was a knock at the door.
I sat up.
“Yeah?”
Good thing I hadn’t been getting myself off. That would have been beyond awkward.
Cara poked her head in, as if she still wasn’t sure if she was allowed in my room.
“Hey,” she said, clamping her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Hey,” I said, pushing the blankets down.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I motioned for her to sit down on the bed. She immediately started messing with the edge of one of my blankets.
“I’m sorry about last night. And for not saying goodbye to you this morning. I’m just... Everything is so messed up in my head and I’m still trying to work it out. My therapist is helping a lot, really. She’s amazing. I’m thinking about things in a different way now and once I have definitive answers and know what’s going on, I’m going to tell you, Loren. I promise. I just need time.” She shouldn’t have to ask me for time. I should just be able to give it to her. I should know what she wanted, what she needed. I was her best friend; that was my job.
“You take all the time you need. Forever, if you need it. I’m sorry for bothering you. I guess I got too much in my head and got a little paranoid.” I shook my head at myself.
“No, no. You deserve to know. You’re the only person I want to talk about this with, but I just... I couldn’t, and I can’t tell you why. Soon. You’ll know everything soon.”
That would have to be enough.
“I missed you. I know it’s only been like, a few hours, but I did miss you,” I said, holding my arms out. She scooted over and hugged me, but let go quickly.
“I missed you. Even though we were under the same roof, it was like you were a million miles away. I didn’t like that feeling at all, and I’d rather not go through it again. Ever.”
“Same,” I said. The ice had been broken, and we fell right back into how we’d always been, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I could deal with this. I could wait until she was ready. I could do the right thing for her.
ANSEL APPARENTLY HAD a great date because he would not shut up about the girl he’d met.
“She’s just... so...” he sputtered and threw his hands up in the air.
“Wow, speechless Ansel. That’s something I thought I would never see,” I said. He and I were doing a friend date because he’d gotten out of work early.
“Honestly, I have never felt this way about someone. I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. I can’t let my heart get broken. It’s so fragile.” He rubbed the left side of his chest over his heart.
“Poor Ansel,” I said, rubbing his shoulder. He pouted. “But maybe it will work out. You never know.”
“I mean, I’m convinced that everything good in my life will blow up in my face, so I’m going to try to think that way. Or at least hope that this won’t be as bad as my last breakup.” He didn’t talk much about his ex, I didn’t know her name, only that she’d wrecked him and had stomped on the pieces as she left.
“If things go well, I want to meet her. You know, give the stamp of approval. Plus, if she’s as great as you say, I want to be friends with her.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” I had a good feeling about this girl. Firstly, she had a career as a mortician, did roller derby on the weekends, and spoke four languages and was learning two more. Seriously, who wouldn’t want be friends with her? Hell, if she was into girls, I would want to date her. Sadly, she was not.
“And what about you? What are you going to do about dating now?” I started laughing because that was so far from my mind right now.
“I can’t really date when I’m married to someone. I mean, I’m not polyamorous, and it would just be weird. Like ‘oh, sorry, my best friend slash fake wife is calling, got to go’ on a date.” That sounded painfully awkward. No thank you.
“What about Cara? Is she also doing the no dating thing?” I had no idea. She hadn’t talked about guys in a while, and hadn’t dated one in at least a year. All her boyfriends had been short-lived, except for one she’d had our freshman year of college who had been pretty serious, but it turned out he had not only one other girlfriend, but two on the side, and Cara wasn’t cool with that when he’d said they were exclusive. What a dick.
“I haven’t asked,” I said. The very idea of Cara dating made me want to throw up. Of course I wanted her to be happy and be with someone who treated her the way she should be treated, but I had a lot of doubt about any guys being good enough for her. There probably weren’t any that were good enough, and I was never going to change my mind. Still, if she found one that she fell in love with, I’d do my best to be supportive.
“Huh,” he said.
“What does that mean?” I asked. He finished his drink and set down the empty glass, crunching on an ice cube.
“Nothing. Just making sounds with my mouth.” I squinted at him in suspicion.
“Something you want to share with me, Ansel?” He shook his head and fished out another ice cube.
“No, Lo. Hey, can I ask you a question?” He was definitely trying to distract me and I went ahead and let him because I knew that if I tried to get whatever it was out of him, he’d snap shut like a clam shell and would refuse to talk. I’d been there before, and it wasn’t fun.
His question ended up being about whether it was too early to get his new lady friend flowers, so we talked about dating and what a minefield it was. You never really knew what to do, and you always felt like you were doing it wrong, or you weren’t doing it right.
“I’m almost relieved that I don’t have to worry about dating right now. That shit is too much stress. I can’t deal with that right now. Being fake married is enough work and stress as it is.”