Forty-four

LILAH

“Lilah, do you have a minute?”

My hand stills on my spoon as soon as I hear her voice.

It’s Charli.

And she no doubt wants to talk, but I’m really not in the mood. I haven’t been in the mood for the last three months if we’re keeping count.

I just want to enjoy my yogurt in peace while my class is away for their weekly music lesson. Not talk about whatever it is that Charli wants to discuss.

But it would childish to turn her away… again. I can only avoid her for so long before she calls in reinforcements, namely my mom. And that is not a duo I want to tackle at the moment.

“Sure, come on in.”

I push my yogurt to the corner of my desk and watch her approach.

She looks fabulous as always in a belted denim shirtdress and leopard-print pashmina. Her hair is up in her signature teaching topknot and a pencil is sticking out of the curly mass.

“How have you been?” she asks quietly.

The awkward tension filling the room since she entered makes me want to cringe. This is my best friend and we’ve been reduced to this?

I feel like shit when I see the sadness in her eyes because it’s all my fault. I withdraw during difficult times. It’s my thing. But this last bout has been the worst one yet.

Where I would usually run to Charli to vent about everything eating me up inside, I’ve shut her out too.

“I’m okay,” I answer in a wobbly voice.

“I’m worried about you, Lilah.” And I can’t ignore the concern plastered across her face.

“I’m fine. There’s absolutely no need for your concern.”

She flinches as if I’ve just slapped and I want to sink into the floor.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I being such an asshole to someone who clearly cares about me?

“You’re my best friend, I will always worry about you,” she says fiercely.

“Sorry,” I mutter avoiding eye contact.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” she observes sadly.

A broken heart will do that to you. My appetite has been missing in action for some time now.

“Why don’t you let me take you to dinner tonight?”

My first instinct is to decline her offer, but I realize if I’m ever going to return to my normal self I should probably try to engage in social interactions beyond the five-year-old kids I teach every day.

I’ve been faking the funk since August and here we are in the middle of October.

Something’s gotta give.

So I accept. “Sure. That would be great.”

A genuine smile touches her lips and she starts rattling off things at the speed of light.

“Fantastic! We’ll get fancy. I hear that new Asian fusion place on Dixie is to die for. Let’s go there. Pick you up around seven?”

I can’t help but get a little excited. Her enthusiasm is contagious.

Maybe a girls’ night is just what I need. It can’t hurt.

“Seven sounds great,” I tell her with a smile of my own. It isn’t as big as hers but it’s the best I can manage, all things considered.

“Oh! I’m so happy!” she squeals, rushing around my desk to hug me tightly.

As soon as her arms around me, I want to burst into tears. I haven’t hugged anyone in so long. I’m starved for human contact.

She props herself up on the edge of my desk and I tilt my chair back to look at her.

Clearing my throat to hide my emotion, I ask, “So how’s everything with you?”

Shrugging, she gives a noncommittal grunt.

“Not much has changed,” she shares solemnly. “I just missed my best friend.”

We talk until it’s time to go retrieve our kiddos from their specials and I can’t deny the extra spring in my step following our conversation.

Maybe I’m going to be okay after all.

***

After school I head into the parking lot to my car.

Getting a new loan with a repossession on my record was not an easy feat. The interest rate is freaking high but it provides me with peace of mind. It was either this or hopping on a bus every morning at a quarter to six to get to school by seven.

Rifling through my purse, I search for my keys while looking at my phone to compose a text message to my mom.

I’ve never been too good at multitasking and that fact is made clear when I collide with a solid brick wall.

“Ouch!” I groan, reaching up to rub my forehead.

And that’s when I notice I’ve already made it to the parking lot. The asphalt beneath my feet gives it away.

Which means it couldn’t be a brick wall.

Looking up, my eyes collide with cobalt eyes that I thought I would never see again. I lose the grip on my bags and they fall at my feet as my heart begins pounding in my ears.

The swoosh of blood is all I hear until he opens his mouth to speak.

“I don’t remember you being this clumsy, Cupcake.”

Andrew.

My Andrew.

He’s here!

But why?

After all this time, what made him come to me?

“What are you doing here?” I ask with a hitch in my voice.

Andrew kneels before me to pick up my scattered things.

“We need to talk,” he says, standing to full towering height again. He doesn’t hand over my stuff, but instead keeps them in his firm grasp.

My heart won’t stop galloping and I’m glad he has my stuff because with my sweaty palms, I’m bound to drop it all over again.

“Talk about what?”

It’s been three months. What could there possibly be to discuss?

“Everything.”

Gaping up at him, I struggle to find words.

“What’s different?” I ask, curious about his change of heart. “I thought you were done with me.”

“I have some things to get off my chest,” Andrew states watching me closely.

Dread fills me at his words. He’s here for closure. Nothing more. Another crack joins the fractured remnants of my heart.

“And for the record, I could never be done with you, Cupcake. Not even if I tried.”

Gulping, I run my slick palms over my skirt and look everywhere but at his eyes. I don’t like the hope blossoming in my heart so I try to squelch it before it gets out of hand.

“I’m sorry for everything,” I blurt, needing him to believe me.

My actions led to our demise and I need him to know I take full responsibility for that.

We continue the walk to my car in silence and I lean up against the passenger door for support.

“Look, I understand it was a fucked-up situation. You did what you thought was best for your company. I can’t be mad at that.” He shifts from one foot to another and then continues. “I just wish you had trusted me enough to confide in me. I can’t say that my reaction would have been positive, but you never even gave me that chance.”

Tears spring up out of nowhere and I feel my face crumple.

“I know,” I cry, covering my mouth with my hands. “I’m so, so sorry.”