Gracie
“Owen still isn’t back?” Marcy questions as she plops down on my bed, her plate ladened with food jiggling slightly at the movement.
I eye her for a moment, hating even the smallest ounce of a chance of food being splattered on my bed. In response, I shake my head and gingerly sit beside her, watching as she wraps the spaghetti noodles around her fork. Leftover spaghetti and garlic bread. I’m not the best at cooking, but spaghetti is pretty easy and is one of the best meals I can make. We have it at least once every week. The guys don’t complain for the most part, but I know that eventually, I’m going to have to learn something else. It just takes time, and I tend to burn things a lot.
“No. It’s been two whole nights since he left. He must’ve made up with Donna.” I shrug, trying to act like I don’t give a shit.
But I do, and Marcy knows that too. I care more than anything. It’s almost like a punch to the stomach. It doesn’t help that the past few days, even Devon has been avoiding me. I rub my forehead, trying to soothe a sudden aching headache that’s beginning to throb.
“I gotta move,” I finally blurt, the words of the one thought I’ve been thinking over on repeat finally coming to fruition.
Marcy chokes on her food and has to spit out the mouthful she’s got back onto her plate, blinking rapidly before wiping at unshed tears. She heaves, making sure she isn’t about to choke again and sets her fork down. She stares at me in bewilderment, shaking her head vigorously.
“Move?” she breathes and looks around wildly. “Why do you want to move? I thought you liked it here?”
I tilt my head back and look up at the cream-colored ceiling, counting the cracks there. I want to avoid her looking at me. “Of course, I do. I love it here, but I – I can’t keep living here.”
“Why?” Marcy presses, complete confusion in her voice. “Is it – you know –the guys?”
I drop my head, eyeing her with pursed lips. “I feel like staying here is ruining their relationships. Donna has been giving Owen a lot of shit, and I mean, he isn’t even here.” I throw up my hands in exasperation. “And Kate isn’t too happy with me around either. I think if I keep sticking around, she will end up having a nasty fight with Devon or worse, and I don’t want to be the reason either of them loses their relationships.”
It isn’t a lie, and as I speak, I can feel the tears burning in the corners of my eyes. I turn quickly away from Marcy, even though there’s no reason to try to hide them from her. We’ve been friends since Kindergarten, a whole eighteen years. There’s nothing neither one of us doesn’t know about the other. For fuck’s sake, she’d even admitted to me about fucking my nephew! We are more than just friends. We’re sisters, and that’s about the best friendship a girl can have. I’m glad I’ve got her, even after all the shit I put her through.
Marcy’s plate clinks as she sits it on my desk, and the bed dips as she takes a seat next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders before pulling me into a hug. I can’t hold it in then. I turn and bury my face into her shoulder, wrapping my arms around her, and curling my fingers into the back of her shirt.
“All right, look,” she said sternly and pulls back, holding me by the shoulders as she stares at me strictly. “Are you sure this is something you really want to do?”
I sniffle and shrug, shaking my head. “I don’t know. Not really, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t – it’s hard.”
She nods and lets go of me. “I know, but your dad doesn’t make random decisions for no reason. He believes this can work; you know that.”
I nod and look down, picking at my cuticles. “I know, but it still sucks. I’m trying so hard, and the whole thing with Owen and Devon just makes it difficult for me. I know I can’t have them back, no matter how badly I want them back.”
“You just have to get over them,” she tells me. “Not in the friend way, but the romantic way.”
I glare at her. “Really? I gave my virginity to Devon, and I took Owen’s. How the fuck am I supposed to get over themromantically?”
She bites her lip, her face twisting almost in an apology, but then her eyes light up, and Marcy bounces in her spot, clapping her hands excitedly together. “I can set you up with one of Landon’s friends! We can do a double date!” She squeals.
I puff out my cheeks and slowly blow the air out as I roll her words over in my mind. “What?”
She grabs my hands and bounces again, overly excited about this whole thing. “Come on! Let’s do it. You don’t have to go on a second date, but it’ll help you get back out there.”
I start to shake my head and then stop as Marcy puffs her bottom lip out in pout, her eyes pleading. Puppy dog style. I groan, knowing I’m going to regret this later on. But at least I won’t be expected to go on a second date. I know it isn’t the best idea to be going on a date, but hey, it’s better than sitting around and moping about things I can’t change and two guys I can’t have back.
“Fine,” I agree and hold up a finger when she opens her mouth to squeal. “One date, that’s it.”
She squeals, and I grimace at the sharp sound grating my ears. “I’m going to text Landon and ask him to ask a friend. I don’t know who, but he has a few single ones.” She rattles and tugs her phone out of her back pocket, beginning to type out the text.
I smile wanly, but I don’t respond. Instead, I avert my attention to the room around us. It’s the smallest room in the apartment, but I don’t mind. I don’t have a whole lot of things. When I first moved here, I barely had anything to my name. That’s what being so wrapped up in drugs and booze does to you. You don’t care about your belongings. What you do get, you end up selling for an extra day or two of “the fun stuff.” When I came here, I had a box and a backpack of my belongings. Twenty-three years of age and the most I had to show for it was one photo album, a stuffed panda from my childhood, and clothes. Now, with nine months under my belt, I have a laptop added to the pile, a small television on top of my dresser that I can hook up streaming to but choose not to, and a few collectibles of Winnie-the-Pooh and Pandas. I have always loved Pandas and am grateful my mother saved a few, especially the glass figurines I know out of habit would have given me a hefty amount of cash, which I would’ve blown on drugs. I’m glad I have them now that I’m sober and not during those wretched years. I would’ve regretted losing them.
“Landon says he already has a friend who’s agreed for this Saturday!” Marcy exclaims, shattering my thoughts.
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That fast?”
She shrugs. “Sometimes a guy just wants a good time.” She laughs when I wrinkle my nose. “Not always like that. Some guys like going on dates to find a good girl.”
I snort and drop my legs off the bed and feet to the floor, standing as I stretch my arms. “I should probably go get a plate for lunch too.” I groan.