Since You've Been Gone

“Yeah,” she said, following behind me. But she didn’t get into the back, just stood outside it, craning her neck like she was looking for something, fiddling with her keys—including the personalized SLOANE mini license plate keychain I’d special-ordered for her birthday—which was what she did when she was nervous.

“You okay?” I asked as I opened the Twizzlers and pulled one out, biting both ends off and then sticking it into my Diet Coke.

“Sure,” she said. “I’m—” But she didn’t finish this, as her phone beeped with a text. She pulled it out immediately and read it, smiling down at the screen as she typed a quick response back.

“Sam?” I guessed, taking a drink through the Twizzler.

“Yeah,” she said, pocketing her phone and looking at me. There was a flush in her cheeks and I noticed how much more alive she now looked—happier, and more excited, like now things were actually happening, whereas before, they hadn’t been. “So here’s the thing,” she said talking fast. “I told Sam we were going to be here, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to come or not, but then—”

“Hey, you.” There was Sam, sliding his arms around Sloane’s waist and kissing her cheek.

“Hi,” Sloane said, smiling wide as she turned to kiss him, and I could hear the happiness in her voice so clearly. “You’re here! I wasn’t sure if you were going to show.”

“Of course I’m here,” he said easily. He slung his arm around her neck, letting his fingertips rest on her arm. “Oh, hi, Emily,” he said, as if he’d just noticed me.

“Hey, Sam,” I said, trying to sound excited to see him, like I was happy he was here, not like I was disappointed that my night with Sloane had suddenly come to a crashing halt.

“Nice straw,” he said with a short laugh, nodding at my cup with the Twizzler poking out of it. “Wow. God. I haven’t seen that since I was, like, eleven.”

“Yeah,” I said, with an embarrassed laugh. “It’s . . .” I wasn’t sure how to finish this, so I just let my voice trail away. Sam was still looking at me, raising his eyebrows like he was challenging me to finish the sentence. He gave me a pitying smile, then squeezed Sloane’s shoulder, threading his fingers through hers. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward the far side of the field. “I’ve got a great spot.”

“Oh,” Sloane said, looking from me to Sam, some of the happiness fading from her expression. “I was thinking we could all watch together, maybe?”

Sam just laughed again, and I noticed, maybe for the first time, that he used his laughs to score points, like a punctuation mark, not because he found something funny. “I think Emily will be fine,” he said, looking over at me, already starting to steer Sloane away from me. “Won’t you, Em?”

There was absolutely no way to respond to this question except in the affirmative, and as I looked at Sloane’s expression, I could see this was all she wanted—she wanted to be able to keep Sam happy, to go off with him, and for me to be okay with it. “Sure,” I said, giving her a smile I didn’t quite feel, wondering for a second if she’d be able to tell the difference. “You kids go have fun.” I’d intended this to be funny, but it somehow didn’t seem funny once I’d said it, Sam just looking at me quizzically, Sloane not laughing at my jokes like she normally did.

“Uh, okay,” he said. He gave me a nod. “See you around, Em.”

“Bye,” I called as Sam started to walk away. Sloane turned back to look at me, and we had a fast and furious conversation as we mouthed our words—Are you sure? Yes! Go have fun! Call you tomorrow? Yes!

She shot me one last happy, excited smile, then turned back to Sam, already laughing at something he was saying.

I watched them go, feeling my own smile fade until it was gone. I climbed into the open back and took a sip from my soda. But the Twizzler suddenly made the soda too cloyingly sweet, and I pulled it out, replacing it with a regular straw instead. It was pretty childish, after all. I probably should have stopped doing it a while back.

I settled into the back, sticking to my side of the car even though there was no need to, trying to tell myself that things were fine, that I should be happy for Sloane. She’d met a guy she really liked, and what kind of best friend would I be if I couldn’t be excited for her? Everything would be okay. And by the time the credits rolled, I’d even started to believe it.

Since I’d had no impending crime-committing to worry about, I’d actually been able to follow The Lady Vanishes, and I’d really liked it, though I did wonder why Hitchcock was so obsessed with trains—both of these movies had seemed to feature a lot of them.

I had stayed in my car for a bit, just looking at the darkened screen. The line leaving the drive-in was always epic, bottlenecks forming at the exit, and everyone honking, even though this accomplished absolutely nothing. Sloane and I had always just hung out in the car, lying back against the pillows and finishing the last of the snacks, discussing the movies or just talking.

When the silence got to be too much, I headed out with my trash and stuffed it into one of the overflowing cans. Now that the parking lot was emptying out, I could see Frank and Collins standing by Collins’s minivan. Not feeling the need to keep humiliating myself in front of Frank—I figured that quota had pretty much been met tonight—I turned my head away and was halfway to my car when I heard Collins calling me.

“Emma!” he yelled, and then I saw Frank lean over and say something to him, and Collins nodded. “Emily!” he called, finally getting my name right. “Come here!” I just waved at him and continued over to my car, hoping that he would buy that I hadn’t heard him. “No,” Collins shouted, louder than ever, now incorporating large hand movements, pointing at me, then at him, and miming walking. “Come over here!” People were starting to turn and look, and I knew there was really no way I could keep pretending.

I let out a long breath and headed over to them. Frank and Collins were having what looked like an intense discussion that stopped abruptly when I reached the minivan. “Hello,” Collins said, giving me a theatrical wink. “Don’t you look lovely tonight. It would have been a fetching ensemble for a mugshot.”

I could feel myself blush and looked over at Frank, who glared at Collins, who didn’t seem to notice. I knew that I probably couldn’t be mad at Frank for telling him. If the situation had been reversed and I’d been here with Sloane and caught Frank Porter trying to steal something, I wouldn’t even have waited until I saw her—I would have been calling her on the walk to the car. “Nothing to be ashamed of,” Collins went on, smiling wisely at me. “Sometime, when the moment is right, remind me to tell you the story of my time in Disney jail.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to me. “Spoiler alert—not the happiest place on earth.”