What else could I have said?
I don’t know. I guess I could have used my words more effectively, instead of stammering nonsense, but would it have made a difference? If I admitted that I’d been bored of my life and wanted to do something different, something scandalous, something entirely unexpected, would Tate have understood? Would he have pitied me, or thought I was an idiot? Would it have alleviated any of his pain? Would it have made anything okay?
Then again, I try to make allowances. Tate didn’t give me the chance to get a word in, so even if I’d had the truth prepared, it wouldn’t have mattered. Somehow, that just makes me feel even worse, as if I’m trying to pin the blame on an undeserving victim.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and realize I’ve been trying to brush my teeth for the past ten minutes. I move the toothbrush around in some half-hearted circles, and then give up. It’s not like I have anyone to impress these days, anyways. Suddenly, a voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Heyyyy Laurie!”
I nearly jump out of my skin as Rachel slides on the hardwood floor in her socks and skids to a stop outside of the bathroom door. She aims two finger-guns at me, her smile wide.
“I learned a new TikTok dance!” my buddy proclaims with obvious glee. “Want to see?”
Truthfully, I would rather throw myself onto the ground and die.
“Sure.”
Playing the attentive audience, I sit down on our battered couch in the living room, and gesture at her to begin. But as my best friend whirls and twirls and twerks around, I’m unable to focus. The question is still ringing in my ears and buzzing around like a fly I’m unable to swat. All I want is for it to be silent, and for everything to be silent frankly. I’ve never been this depressed before. I’ve never felt so alone, so guilty, nor so ashamed.
“Are you even watching?” Rachel demands, freezing in the middle of a dance move with her arms flung over her head.
I nod dutifully.
She sighs. “No, you’re not. Here.” She walks over to the cat tree, picks up a sleeping Toodles, who meows reproachfully, and sets him in my lap. He eyes me in confusion, and then settles himself comfortably on my thighs and falls back asleep. I stroke his head with my finger, from the crown down to his sweet little pink nose. It makes me feel a little better, but only marginally.
“Did that help?” Rach asks, sitting on the floor across from me.
“A little.”
“No, it didn’t,” Rachel says. Her brown eyes are full of warmth and concern, and kind of make me want to cry, so I try to avoid her gaze. “Hey,” my friend says softly. “Look at me, okay?”
I do, and this time, my sniffle’s audible.
“Are you alright?”
I shake my head no.
“Can I help?”
I shake my head no again.
“Okay. That makes sense, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.”
I wince. The last person who said that to me immediately kicked me out of his home, and out of his life, forever. The thought immediately brings a gray cloud back down.
But my bestie’s different. Rachel’s been in my life for years now, and despite our arguments and idiotic fights, I know that she would never abandon me. For better or for worse, we’re stuck with each other, the way true friends are supposed to be. She senses my change in mood and tilts her head to one side.
“Want to talk to me about what’s in your head?”
I sigh, petting Toodles as he purrs dreamily in his sleep. “It’s nothing new,” I sigh. “Just the same old shit. ‘What else could I have said?’ ‘What could I have done?’ ‘Why did I even lie in the first place?’”
“Those are impossible questions to answer,” Rachel consoles. “You’re just torturing yourself if you keep ruminating and letting them spin around in your head rent-free.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you picking up lessons from your therapist?”
She laughs. “Maybe. But am I wrong?”
I sigh again, leaning back into the couch. “No. But I don’t know how to make them go away. Tate meant so much to me, Rachel. I think… I think…” I let out a breath, closing my eyes, unable to even look at her. “I think I was falling in love with him.”
Rachel gets up and sits next to me on the sofa. I lean my head onto her shoulder and she slings an arm around my shoulders.
“I know,” she says quietly. “But it’s okay, honey. You’ll move on eventually. This will all be in the rear-view mirror someday, I promise.”
But I’m not convinced. Life isn’t rainbows and sunshine and butterflies, like I believed as a child. Life, sometimes, punches you in the gut, kicks you in the teeth, and leaves you squirming and helpless on the floor. There have to be instances in which things don’t just magically get better, and I think this might be one of them.