“I mean,” Ryan continues, “what if Taylor’s the one I want to date? That doesn’t mean I don’t want you as my best friend. I want you as my best friend. Always. Doesn’t that matter more than dating?”
I don’t look up. “I know. I know all that. And maybe I’m being selfish, but I want everything. I want all of you. Because I’m in love with all of you.”
I say this and I realize—there’s nothing else I can say. I can repeat it a million different ways—but there’s nothing more I can add, nothing stronger than this.
I am trying not to think about kissing on this bed. I am trying not to think about being naked on this carpet. I am trying not to remember all the times we closed that door and became those people and made everything feel possible.
He walks over and sits next to me. I feel the weight of him against the mattress. The dip and the slight lift.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. Not romantic. Consoling.
“Look,” he tells me, “I can say it over and over again. You are my best friend. You are my best friend. You are my best friend. I love you like that, which is huge. I don’t want to hurt that, and I don’t want to hurt you. I know you’re making it seem like it’s obvious that you’d react this way to Taylor, but honestly, it feels out of the blue to me. I know it isn’t—I know that now. But you have to understand, to me it is. I never thought what we did was … that. I am very, very sorry if you did. But I didn’t do anything to make you think that. I didn’t. It’s always been clear to me. And that doesn’t make you any less awesome to me. You are completely awesome to me. You’re just not my boyfriend. You’re my best friend.”
“But do those have to be two different things?” I ask, barely keeping the sob from engulfing my voice.
“In our case, yes.”
This is so much worse than I feared it would be.
We sit there for a minute or two. I have nothing left to say. He has nothing left to say.
Finally, it’s Ryan who breaks the silence.
“Look, I saw you dancing on that bar. And I read about your adventures on Saturday night. Man, that made me jealous. But I’m glad for it, because it shows that you’re going to have plenty of opportunities—you’re going to find someone as awesome as you, and I’m really hoping that when you do, you’ll tell me all about it. Because that’s what best friends do. And even though right now it’s so totally awkward, I know it’ll pass, and I know it’ll be fine, and I know we’ll get through this. Okay?”
I don’t want someone else. I want you, I think. Even now.
But I’m back to keeping it inside. Before it was because I feared it wouldn’t work. Now it’s because I know it won’t work.
I can’t tell him it’s all okay, either. I can’t lie like that.
I just look at him and think all of the old things one more time.
You are so beautiful.
I understand you.
You understand me.
I know you well.
We’re in this together.
We can be together.
We can cut through all the bullshit, and what we’ll find underneath is love.
I know I should let go of all of these things—but you can’t let go of something that’s inside you. You’re not holding it like that.
You are not good enough, Mark.
You will never be good enough.
How could you ever expect him to see you that way?
He was using you, and now he’s done.
You were just a substitute until he found someone better.
And now he’s found someone better.
Ryan stands up. Goes to his bookcase. Straightens something on the shelf.
“I’m sorry for dragging you back here. And for thinking it was a good idea to invite you to Taylor’s party. I’m going to leave it up to you whether you want me to tell you about it or not. I’ll understand if you don’t want me to. I don’t have to talk about him at all to you. Whatever it takes for us to get through this.”
It would help if he were acting like more of an asshole. It would help if he would say the absolute wrong thing. That way I could storm out. It’s too hard to just leave.
But he has a party to get to, and I have nothing left to say out loud. So I stand up. I find my breath. I force myself to meet his eye.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him. And then, because I know I will hate myself for it, I add, “Have a good night.”
“You too,” he replies.
We’re just so helpless.
I open the door. I decide not to look back.
“And, Mark?”
I look back.
“I would fight for you, too,” he says. “I hope you know that.”
I can’t. I just can’t.
I run away before I lose myself completely.
TUESDAY
12
Kate
I wake suddenly—warm summer light through my window—and check my phone.
Nothing.
Which is so strange, because Mark said he would text no matter what. Whether it was good news or bad news, I love you or I love you not.
So?? I write now, and then I carry the phone with me down the hall, set it on the edge of the sink. As I shower, I keep waiting for it to buzz. Maybe the water is too loud, or maybe, while I’m standing under it and thinking of kissing Violet, I am too swept up in the memory to listen closely. But when I draw the curtain and check again, he still hasn’t answered.