I was standing on a stepladder, sanding down the kitchen cabinets, when someone tapped my shoulder.
The whining, grinding noise of the electric sander meant that I didn’t hear anyone come in. I also didn’t hear anyone call my name. I didn’t actually know anyone was in the room until the interloper touched me.
I shrieked in surprise, a very un-me sound, and dropped the sander. And because it was still switched on, it skidded across the countertop, dropped to the floor, blasted across the room, and barreled into the wall. The sound of the hole being punched through the drywall was not as loud as I thought it would be, probably because the sander was really fucking loud. In fact, it was now making a squealing noise from its perch half in, half out of the wall.
Meanwhile, in my shock, I also fell from the stepladder, which was again not as awful as it could have been, since the shoulder-tapper caught me. But the sudden added weight of an extra person – as well as, I’m sure, the overall excitement and confusion of the runaway sander – caused whoever it was to lose their balance, and we both fell to the floor.
I closed my eyes, taking stock of my body. Nothing seemed broken, and I was still conscious. Thankfully, the sander stopped a moment later, though my ears rang with the echo of its death throes for several minutes after that.
“Ow,” the mysterious visitor said in a voice that was not so mysterious. In fact, the high-pitched, normally bubbly voice was almost as familiar to me as my own.
Taylor had come home.
I pulled my dust mask and safety glasses off, groaning. I was pretty sure I’d hit my head, and my shoulder was going to be sporting a wicked bruise from where it’d banged into the concrete subfloor.
“What the fuck, Tay?” I opened my eyes, trying to figure out how to get myself free from the Larkin-Taylor pileup. “You scared the shit out of me.”
After I’d disentangled myself from her, I sat up, rubbing my head with one hand, my shoulder with the other.
“Hi.” Her voice behind me was hesitant, very unlike her usual confident self.
I turned to face her, and her expression was cautious, her blue eyes wide and wary. She looked almost like she was bracing herself for a tongue lashing as she brushed sawdust off her skinny jeans.
“Hey.” My tone was equally tentative.
We stared at each other for a long moment, neither one of us speaking. Then, as if by some silent signal, we both moved at once.
“I’m sorry,” she cried, lunging forward and wrapping her arms around me.
I clung to her tightly. “I fucked up,” I muttered against her shoulder, for once not minding the scent of her perfume. It was comforting, familiar. A ‘don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone’ kind of thing.
Everything about her was kind of like that, really. For every single day I’d known her, since the first day of kindergarten, she had annoyed the fuck out of me. Until the day she was gone, that is.
It wasn’t until she’d all but moved out that I realized how much I actually missed her. Only then did I remember how she could make me laugh with her silly dance routines. How she would defend me against high school bitches who would whisper behind my back that I wasn’t good enough for Daniel, and later, how she would listen to me complain about Phillip the Evil Neighbor, then go next door and solve the battle of the week with her unique, smiling brand of diplomacy. How she would watch Valley Girl with me, reciting every line and throwing popcorn at the screen whenever Julie’s preppy boyfriend, Tommy, walked into frame.
How she’d lay in bed with me while I wept for Daniel, for our best friend, my lover, my husband. How she’d stroke my hair and hold me tight and tell me it would be okay, even as her own tears fell.
And it wasn’t until she’d gone that I realized what a shitty friend I’d been in return. How I took her support and love for granted, never giving any back in return. How I’d resented her for always being so happy and pretty and just, like… blessed by unicorns or some shit. How I’d always made everything about me and my grief, and never considered hers. How I’d never even thanked her for giving up her whole life for me, for quitting her job in Manhattan and moving back to South Bay to effectively nurse me back to health. How I’d thrown it back in her face, how I’d yelled at her for not supporting me the way I wanted her to, for not babying me, when all she’d ever wanted was for me to get better.
“I fucked up you and me, Tay.” I pressed my face into her coat. “I fucked everything up. I’m so sorry.”
She squeezed me tighter. “No way. I’m the one who’s sorry. I messed up. I was such a bad friend. I forced you to go on that date with that awful guy, all because I was lying to myself.”
“Yeah, but I was rude the whole night.” I burned with shame, thinking of how awful I’d been to everyone that night. I’d mocked my own date, lusted after Taylor’s, and yelled at my best friend.
I could feel her shaking her head. “You had every right to be rude,” she insisted. “He was terrible.”
I chuckled weakly. “Yeah, he really was.”
She huffed. “I’m the worst friend ever for making you do that.”
I shook my head stubbornly. “You were the best friend. You just wanted me to be happy again. I was the worst. At least you had good intentions.”
“Your best friend wouldn’t abandon you,” she mumbled sadly.
I was quiet for a minute, because I really couldn’t deny that. She’d been gone for weeks, when I’d really needed her. But I didn’t want to start another fight with her, either.
Especially not when I was still hugging her like I’d just jumped off the Titanic and she was the last life preserver.
“Where did you go?” I finally asked.
She took a moment to answer. “I stayed with someone I work with.”
I bit my lip. In the interest of being a better friend, I was about to ask her about it, to let her be the one to vent, for once. But her tone told me she didn’t really want to talk about it, so I remained silent. I figured she’d tell me about it in her own time.
“Work was crazy busy,” she continued, “so it seemed like a good idea to be closer to the office. And I figured we both needed some time apart, too.” She sniffed. “But then a couple of days turned into a week, and then two. I wanted so badly to call you, but I didn’t know what to say. It felt like the gulf between us got bigger and bigger, and it was easier to just stay away.” I could hear the tears in her voice, and my own started back up, too.
I couldn’t be mad at her for not knowing how to deal with this awful situation. I was the queen of avoidance. Plus, I knew her work really had been busy, because Graham had said the same thing. Which I’d ignored, of course, for my own selfish reasons.
And then I’d seduced him, picked a fight with him, and ruined everything.
I sighed. I didn’t want to think about that right now. Dwelling on how it had all gone wrong with him wouldn’t help me solve the puzzle of how to make it right.
“Well, I can’t blame you,” I told her. “I’m the worst.”
She shook her head again. “No, I am. I really am.”
“Nah,” I mumbled. “It’s me.”
She huffed out a laugh, pulling back to give me a teary smile. “Maybe we can just agree to be the worst together?”
I chuckled, though it sounded weird, since my throat was clogged with tears. “Yeah. We’re the worst.”
She laughed, wiping her cheeks, like she was wiping away the hurt and mess. I’d always envied her ability to do that.
“Anyway, what’s going on here?”
She took my hand as she stood, pulling me up with her. Then she looked around the room, taking in the cabinet doors stacked next to the back door, as well as the cabinets themselves, which I was halfway through sanding. Her eyes traveled to the almost ninety-year-old linoleum I’d ripped up and piled on the deck, the wall to the dining room that I’d knocked out, and the full paint cans on the counter, fresh brushes at the ready.
“You’re finally remodeling the place?”
I nodded, following her gaze around the room. It didn’t look like it, but I’d made a lot of progress. And apparently when you smashed stuff with a sledgehammer with the intention of eventually replacing it, it wasn’t considered a mental breakdown. It was called demolition, and it was totally legit.
So I had that going for me, at least.
“What made you finally decide to do it?”
I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “To sell it.”
She gave me a look that encompassed every emotion, the whole history behind my decision. She knew it all. She knew how hard this would be for me.
“Oh, Lark.”
I sniffed, blinking back new tears. “Yeah.”
She swallowed a few times, nodding her head. “He’d want you to, I think.”
I nodded. “I think so, too.” I heaved a ragged breath. “He’d want me to be happy.”
“Yeah he would,” she whispered, putting an arm around me.
I gestured to the room at large. “I’m working on it.”
She gave me a soft smile, letting me know that she saw I wasn’t just talking about the house. “I can see that.”
We were quiet for a moment, and I knew we were both thinking about Daniel. Eventually, Taylor broke the silence.
“So why fix it up? Why not just sell it as is? It’s in a prime location. It’s still got a ton of resale value.”
I gave her a look. “You’ve been watching too much HGTV again.”
She grinned. “Guilty.”
“Anyway,” I drawled. “Uncle Tom said I’d get more for it if I put in a bit of work. He gave me a prioritized list.”
“And you’re doing it yourself?” Taylor sniffed like she smelled something distasteful.
I laughed softly. She hated getting dirty. I could tell the lingering sawdust all over her clothes was driving her crazy, just based on the way she held her shoulders, like she was trying not to bat at her body from head to toe.
“The stuff that I’m capable of doing, yeah.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Saves money.” And because ‘demolition’ was therapeutic for me.
Taylor shook her head. “One of these days you’re going to have to accept the fact that you’re a millionaire, Lark.”
“Barely,” I argued.
Daniel’s trust fund had been depleted quite a lot, between buying this house, buying his mom’s house in Florida, opening Soundtrax, and paying off our student loans.
And paying for Daniel’s funeral.
Though I was grateful, extremely grateful, for the fact that I didn’t have to struggle anymore, that I was twenty-five years old and didn’t have crippling debt like most people my age, I still held a deep ambivalence for the money that had made it possible. It carried a lot of bad blood, a lot of turbulent emotions, and I’d never been very good at letting those go. And though I was doing my best to figure out how to move on with my life without losing my fucking mind in the process, in the meantime, I wasn’t sure what to do with what I considered to be blood money.
“Well, what about the stuff you can’t do?” Taylor asked.
I shrugged. “Bitty Lowenthal’s cousin is gonna come in and finish it.”
Taylor perked up at that. “Gabe Bloom? The hot contractor?”
I blinked. “He’s hot?” I hadn’t noticed. I hadn’t really looked at him at all, come to think of it.
I hadn’t looked at any man at all in eighteen days, twenty-one hours, and – I checked my watch – twelve minutes.
Not since Graham ‘Not My Boyfriend’ Morris rang my doorbell.
Taylor nodded enthusiastically. “He is totally hot. And he’s our age, too. I can’t believe you haven’t seen him around town.” Her smile faded. “Well, I guess I can believe it. You haven’t exactly been Miss Leaves the House lately.”
I snorted. “No, I guess I haven’t.” I frowned. “But I’m trying.”
She hummed in approval. “So I’ve heard! Kristi says you come to work every day. And you go to the grocery store all by yourself, according to your Aunt Louise. And Phillip told me just now that you actually mowed the lawn yesterday.” She gave me a facetious smile. “He was very excited about that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Phil and his landscape fetish can go fuck himself.” I walked over to the sander, sighing as I got a good look at the damage to the wall. Oh well. I probably needed new drywall in here, anyway. “Or better yet, he can go fuck his wasteful gas-powered lawn mower.”
Taylor giggled. “Oh, Lark. I shouldn’t laugh at that. I really shouldn’t.”
“Sure you should.” I grinned at her. “I’m fucking hilarious.”
She gave me an affectionate smile. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“We should hang out. Tonight, in fact.”
My smile quickly turned to a frown. “We are hanging out, Tay.”
She sighed in a long-suffering way. “I mean, you should hurry up and take a shower, so we can go out. Because you smell like you’ve been working around the house all day.”
I gave her a flat look. “I have been working around the house all day.”
She nodded. “And that’s great. But we’re going to karaoke tonight.”
I frowned. “Karaoke?” What the fuck?
She smiled. “Yup! Wednesday is karaoke night at this really cool bar near work.”
I huffed. I did not want to go to a bar. I did not want to sing karaoke. I did not want to drink with strangers and make merry. I’d been making progress with my attitude, sure, but that didn’t mean I’d suddenly become a social butterfly.
Fuck that noise.
“My co-workers will all be there,” she said, her tone sly.
I froze. “Tay.”
My eyes darted away. I knew where this was going, and I so did not want to have this conversation. We’d made up all of five seconds ago. The last thing I wanted to do right now was tell my best friend that I’d fucked her ex-boyfriend.
Because then I’d have to tell her I’d fallen in love with her ex-boyfriend, then promptly broken her ex-boyfriend’s heart.
And then I’d have to face the possibility that I might see her ex-boyfriend tonight. My ex-boyfriend? Could he really be considered my ex if we’d never actually dated? We’d just been friends, until the night we fucked.
And the morning after, I’d taken even that away. Now we weren’t anything.
“Yeah, no.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to go.” I turned away, intending to grab the shop vac.
But Taylor was having none of my bury-my-head-in-the-sand crap. She reached for me, putting her hands on my shoulders and turning me until I was facing her.
“Lark. I know about Graham.”
“You-” I frowned. “You what?”
“I know about Graham,” she repeated slowly.
I shook my head again. “No. No you don’t.”
“Sure I do,” she replied, giving me an indulgent smile. “You had a thing going on with him.”
“No.” I continued to shake my head, like my denial would somehow make this whole awkward conversation go away. “No, one fuck does not ‘a thing’ make.”
“Oh, I think it was more than one fuck,” she replied.
I frowned. “And how would you know that?”
She continued to smile. “Because he came to my desk this morning, begging me to get you to talk to him.” Her smiled slipped. “Got me in trouble with my boss, actually. But that wasn’t his fault,” she added, waving her hand dismissively. “The point is, he misses you. He seems pretty desperate, in fact. That tells me it’s more than a fuck to him.” She narrowed her eyes, giving me an uncharacteristically shrewd look. “But the question is, is it more than that for you?”
I bit my lip, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
It was so much more. I didn’t want to get into the whole question of soul mates and happily ever afters, because that just made my heart hurt. But I knew I loved him, and I wanted to be with him. I was a better person with him. Saner, happier, my rough edges sanded down until I was the Larkin I was supposed to be.
She beamed, her eyes going all misty. “Good.”
I frowned, wondering if this was going to be fight now. I mean, I was prepared to fight for him, but I didn’t want to lose my best friend again, and-
“Wait.” I stopped, gaping at her. “You’re not mad at me?”
She waved her hand again. “Of course not. I told you, I didn’t even like him.”
I flipped through the conversation highlights in my head. “Uh, no, you didn’t.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t even like that with him.”
“Tay.” I gave her a pointed look. “You went on three dates with him. Three.” I set my hands on her shoulders, shaking her gently. “That’s a very big deal for you.”
She shrugged. “Well, it’s not important.” Her tone was breezy, but she wouldn’t quite meet my eye.
I stared at her, but she just blithely continued on like she wasn’t acting like a total weirdo. I wondered if this had anything to do with the “friend” she was staying with.
“The point is,” she said, “he’s all yours. You just need to get him back.”
I sighed. “I don’t think it’s that easy, Tay. I fucked up big time.”
She smiled. “That doesn’t matter. He wants you back. All you should have to do is give him a quick apology, and you’re good to go.” She gave me a scheming look. “All you need is opportunity.”
I huffed. “And karaoke is your answer to that?”
She grinned. “Karaoke is the answer to everything,” she said, like it was obvious. “And I overheard some of the guys from work saying he’ll be there.”
I rolled my eyes, but internally, my belly gave a little shimmy at the prospect of seeing him again.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
“Excellent.” She clapped her hands. “And you’ll go take a shower?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I mean, I did smell like the inside of a running shoe. I just hadn’t cared. Not until the prospect of seeing Graham in my current state had been presented to me.
“Good. Because I need to change now, and all my stuff is at Mo- uh, my new place.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re going to tell me about that, you know. Once we straighten my shit out, you’re going to spill.”
She gave me a placating smile. “Yes, of course,” she lied. “Now go get ready.”
“All right, all right,” I grumbled. “I’m going.”
“And make sure you wear your good jeans, and that sweater I gave you for Christmas last year.”
I huffed as I left the room. “Fine, fine.”
“And put some lip gloss on!” she called after me.
I growled. I would let her boss me around, dress me up, and drag me out. But lip gloss was where I drew the motherfucking line.
“Absolutely no makeup, Tay!” I shouted back down the hallway. “And that’s final.”