Living With Regret (31 page)

“Rachel,” she mouths, crossing her arms over her stomach. What I couldn’t see from the way she stood before was her swollen stomach. Not as in ate-too-many-cookies swollen, but more there’s-a-real-live-baby-in-there big. All I can do is stare at her, not her face, but how the rest of her has filled out. There’s this horrible black hole in the middle of my chest. Why would she want to go through something like this without even telling me? That’s probably the worst part. She was my best friend, and I thought I was hers. Sisters. We were like sisters.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asks, regaining her composure. The black hole grows larger. There’s no ‘
How are you?’
or ‘
What have you been up to?’
She’s nothing but a stranger with a familiar face.

“I work here,” I choke.

“Oh, I didn’t know.” She’s acting like it’s the worst thing that we’re here together in the same room.

“I tried to call you a couple times. You never called back.” My mom would say that a nice Midwestern girl should just let it go, smile, and move on. But Madison hurt me. I was sick and sad and helpless, and she just left me to heal on my own. That’s not a best friend. That’s not a friend at all.

She takes a step back until her back hits against the counter. “I didn’t know what to say, Rachel. What do you want me to say?”

“I didn’t need you to say anything. I just needed you to be there for me. That’s what friends do, you know?”

Her eyes cast downward, and when they come back up to mine, they’re full of unshed tears. The blood of the soul. “I’m sorry for everything,” she cries. “There are things we all wish we could take back, and for me, what I did to you will always be one of them.”

“What are you talking about? Help me understand because, right now, I don’t. How hard is it to pick up the phone?” My face looks like hers now, tears streaming down. I swear someone took a spikey ball and inserted it in my chest. Every time I turn, it cuts deep into my heart. Each time it hurts a little more. There’s not much more that can go wrong in my life. There’s not much left inside me to shred.

“I don’t want you to hate me. Besides, I heard you’re with Sam now,” she says softly, smoothing her hand over her stomach. “You deserve to be happy.”

The painful ball in my chest just moved a little bit more. A deep, excruciating cut. “I was with Sam. Turns out some people aren’t what they seem.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrow on me. I’m noticing how much talking they truly do for a person.

“Do you even care?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. I sound like a bitch, but I think I’ve earned it.

A single tear slips down her cheek. “God, I care more than you’ll ever know. Don’t you get it, Rachel? That’s why I stayed away. Because I care.”

I’m so freaking confused. Someone spun me around and around then turned me loose here. This whole day just needs to evaporate. “He lied to me, okay? He was there the night of the accident and didn’t tell me.”

Her eyes widen. “You remember?”

“Just parts. I remember driving to the party. I remember running through a field and straight into Sam. Cory found us. That’s why he was so upset with me that night.”

She swallows visibly, bracing her hands against the counter. “You don’t remember why you were running?”

After everything I told her, that was the last bit I expected her to focus on. “No, I don’t remember that part. I don’t know that it really matters anyway.”

She looks toward the window. Her whole body trembles. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Streams of tears fall from her eyes. It saddens me, even after everything. “I should probably get going. I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”

I nod, coming around the counter to set my delivery tickets in the drawer. “When are you due?”

There’s a pause—a long but audible pause. “February.”

“I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

“I wasn’t really.” She laughs, but yet she cries. It’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard. It almost makes me want to forgive her for everything that happened, or didn’t happen, the last few months. I have my shit, and she has hers. I just don’t know who’s buried deeper.

As I come back around the counter to where she stands, I spot Ms. Peters peeking through the small window between the showroom and backroom. I wonder how much of this she can hear, or if she’s just waiting for us to clear out. It doesn’t matter. I think she already knows my life is a hair below the level of normal.

“For what it’s worth, it was good to see you. I only wish we could have done it sooner,” I say.

“Yeah, me too.”

Months ago, if we’d had this conversation, I would have hugged her. That doesn’t feel like the right move anymore. I’m not sure what’s right.

“I’ll let you get going. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I really have to get going,” she cries, walking past me to the door.

I’m speechless. Another person gone. Another disappointment. Another dark cloud of memories covering my sky.

THE FIRE CRACKLES FROM
across the room as I pull my favorite fleece blanket up to cover my legs. Mom’s already gone up to bed, and the house is quiet. This hasn’t always been my ideal Friday night, but it’s my new Friday night.

The only way to escape to a guaranteed happy place is get lost in a book. If I want to laugh, it’s easy to find a book to make me do just that. In the instances I want a good cry, I can find a book to make me do that, too. A well-written book is as powerful as a hug at the end of a long day. My mom swears by a book and a glass of wine before bed. No wonder she always looks well rested.

I made it through the week without any more surprise visitors. Madison and I haven’t spoke since Monday, not that I expected our confrontation to change anything. Our friendship is too far-gone. The trust is gone. The feeling that we’ll be there for the other no matter what sailed a long time ago. It’s better this way.

And Sam … still radio silence there. Some of the anger has faded away, but where that’s gone, loneliness seeps in. When I told him I didn’t think I meant anything to him, I didn’t mean it literally. I was trying to hurt him like he’d hurt me, but now it’s more of a belief. If our relationship was more than just another fling for him, wouldn’t he be fighting, even if he thinks there’s no chance I’ll take him back?

That’s the part I don’t get. Why he isn’t coming at me with gloves on. Cory never fought for me either. Maybe there’s nothing about me worth fighting for.

This is when I feel the most alone. When I think way too much. This is when I know it’s time to open a book and fall right into the drama of someone else’s life. It’s always better as an observer.

My phone buzzes on top the coffee table. Besides Mom and Ms. Peters, it barely rings anymore.

“Hello,” I answer, folding my book over my leg.

“Did I wake you?”

I straighten at the sound of Kate’s voice. “Oh, no, I was just reading a book.”

She laughs. “Control yourself on a Friday night, Rachel.”

I can’t help but relax. She has that power over me. “There’s not much to do here this time of year. Actually makes me wish I could return to school right now.”

“Aw, don’t talk like that, or I’m going to have to come up there and get you. Are you at least cuddled up to Sam?”

Hearing his name sends my heart plummeting. A long, steep fall. “We broke up. Actually, I don’t know if we really even broke up, because I’m not sure we were ever really together.”

“Oh my God, what happened?”

“I’ve been remembering little bits and pieces of the accident. Anyway, he was there. He was at the party that night, and he’s the whole reason Cory and I fought.”

She gasps loud enough I hear it over the phone. “What? You’re kidding right? Why wouldn’t he tell you that?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.” Her voice is quiet, almost too low to hear clearly.

“I’m trying not to think about it right now.”

“He’s not an ‘it,’ so I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

She’s right. I know she is, but the only way I get through each day is to tell myself that this is just another bump I have to get over. I have to believe there’s still something or someone out there for me. That loneliness isn’t my destiny.

“I know. I thought if I pretended everything was okay, it just would be. You know?”

“Oh, I know, but things don’t really work that way. You can face them, or you can bury them. But let me tell you, when they come to the surface, and they will, they’re so much angrier. So much louder.”

It would sound ridiculous coming from anyone else, but Kate’s like the encyclopedia of devastation. She’s lived through so much, and to see her now, you’d never know it.

“I’ll work through it eventually. I just have a lot on my mind right now. So much, it’s hard to even see straight.”

“Is there something else going on?”

I sigh, sinking back down into the couch cushion. “I finally ran into Madison. I think she’s an even bigger mess than I am. Pregnant and all.”

“That’s crazy! Do you think she thought you’d be disappointed in her? I mean, Emery was worried about telling everyone for that exact reason.”

“I don’t know. Everything seemed off, like I wasn’t even looking at the same person.”

“That sucks, but the people who stay in your life through your struggles are your true friends. She should have been there for you.”

“Like Beau was for you?”

“Exactly!”

“I don’t know. I just feel like things have to get better at some point. At least they can’t get worse.”

“Do you remember the napkin I gave you when you came into the diner? Remember those words no matter what happens,” she says quietly.

I’d completely forgotten about the napkin until just now. Too much happened after we left the diner that day, and I never took it out of the pocket of leather jacket. “I will,” I reply, trying to remember where I put that jacket. I haven’t worn it since then.

“Hang in there. I’ll take a look at my work schedule and see if we can do another girls’ day soon.”

“I’d like that.”

“Anyway, I need to get going. Beau just walked through the door. He says he has a surprise for me.”

“You’re so lucky. Don’t forget that.”

She’s quiet. It’s a rare occasion. “You better call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Have a good night.”

“You too. I hope your book is good.”

As I hang up the phone, I stand up from the couch and run upstairs, hoping the napkin is still tucked away in my jacket. Luckily, the coat is right where it should be, hanging behind my door. Sliding my fingers into the right pocket, I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel the paper against my fingertips. I pull it out, unfolding it carefully. The words take my breath away.

I pin it on my bulletin board and head downstairs to finish my book, realizing my lips are turned up for the first time this week.

“Rachel, why don’t you go up to bed?” I must have drifted to sleep at some point while reading because Dad stands over me now. He’s still dressed in his suit, but his tie hangs loosely from his neck.

I yawn, noticing the small flame that still burns in the fireplace. That’s not going to make him happy. “What time is it?”