“Of course I know! Why else do you think I’m asking? If you’re there, it will be so much fun! We can pass out flyers and silently judge everyone just like the old days!” I tighten my grip on her hand, fully prepared to not let go until she says yes. “Please. You know I’m not above begging.”
“Judging people does sound fun.” She taps her foot as she considers it, and I can tell she’s softening. “I’ll do it under one condition.”
“I will do literally anything. I mean, look at me.” I gesture to my bedroom, which only minutes ago looked like a scene from a low-budget horror film. “I’m living with my parents, involved in the most contentious HOA campaign that has maybe ever existed, and my temper tantrum is going to haunt me until my dying days. Do you really think there’s anything I won’t do at this point?”
“All right . . .” She leans in with the same conspiratorial grin that used to precede all our most wild nights. I lean in, too, excited to hear whatever scheme she’s concocting. “You don’t ever, and I mean ever, ignore my calls like this again. I was out of my mind worried about you!”
“Rubes—” I start, but she cuts me off with a long finger pointed in my face.
“No, you don’t get to Rubes me. You completely shut me out.” Her eyes gloss over and her voice trembles. “That’s not the kind of friends we are, Collins. You don’t hide from me. We show each other everything. The good, the bad, the fucking ugly. We are there through it all. You don’t ever need to hide in your stinky-ass bedroom from me. Do you understand me?”
She’s talking about me, but I know she’s right back to the summer when she found out her dad had been lying to her for years. He hadn’t just had a series of one-night stands; he had an entire other life that he was living. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so destroyed. It changed her in a way I still have trouble articulating. After that summer, her worldview changed. Where she found safety before, she now saw danger. But instead of cowering behind doors （or in her bedroom in stinky old sweats） she figured out a way to fight back. Sometimes I still wonder what path she would’ve gone down if her dad hadn’t done what he did.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t try to make excuses, because there are none for shutting her out the way I did. It was selfish and maybe even cruel. “I’ll never do it again. I was worried about burdening you with the same old song and dance, but you should’ve been my first call and I’m sorry I didn’t do that.”
“I can always hold space for you and you are never a burden,” she says. “You’re my best friend and I love you. Don’t hesitate to ever ask me to help carry whatever you’re going through.”
“I love you too.” I hug her again, this one shorter and less tearful than the last. “Also,” I say as I pull away, “did you just say you can always hold space for me? Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Ughhhh. Yes, I’m seeing Monique again.” She scowls at me when I can’t bite back my smile any longer. “You weren’t answering the fucking phone! Who else was I supposed to call?”
“Even though I can also always hold space for you, I’m not a licensed therapist. You should call Monique even when I’m not in the midst of a nervous breakdown.”
I’ve been trying to get her into therapy ever since we graduated from high school. Her mom made her go while her parents were going through the divorce, but she hated it and refused to go after. It wasn’t until I found Monique during a rough patch a couple of years ago and was relentless about singing her praises that she booked her appointment. To say it’s been an on-and-off-again relationship is the understatement of the century, but knowing my latest spiral got her back into therapy is the bright spot I didn’t know I needed.
“Yeah, okay. Just don’t do it again.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell her heart’s not in it. “Now, get dressed. I’m getting hangry.”
She leaves my room and pulls the door closed behind her but pushes it back open almost immediately. She sticks her head into my room, humor dancing in her eyes again now that the heavy stuff is taken care of.
“You were right! The amount of wall art your mom has is bordering on unhinged!” she whisper-shouts. “And no offense to your childhood cuteness, but nobody needs that many pictures of one person on their walls.”
“I told you!” I whisper right back, not offended in the least. There’s an entire section of the hallway dedicated to my awkward tween years, and let me tell you, no adult needs a daily reminder of that period of their life. None. “Now, go. I know what you’re like when you haven’t been fed and I don’t think sweet Ashleigh will be able to handle it.”
“Good call.” Her eyes go wide and she slams my door. Not even a few seconds pass before I hear her shout, “All right, Mrs. Carter, now that that’s taken care of, fill me in on the Karens. You always have the best gossip.”
I slip on my jeans, smiling to myself as I skip over my Crocs and opt for a pair of Ruby-approved sandals.
The heavy fog I was under begins to lift, and things don’t feel so bad. Sure, last week sucked, but that was then and this is now. My best friend is in town, my family is the best, and I still have the opportunity to exact intense and painful revenge on Nathanial “the Snake” Adams.
Things are definitely looking up.
Chapter 16
C-bus stand up!” Ruby yells as we navigate the crowded sidewalk in downtown Columbus.
Don’t ask me how we got here. I’m still not sure myself. All I know is that after a few shared appetizers and a couple of drinks down the street from my house, Ashleigh was somehow able to convince us to check out the nightlife scene in Columbus.
We hopped in an Uber and told them to drop us off at their favorite bar. Our driver, Katrina, who had a cooler in the front and a survey in the back for music selection and temperature control—ten out of ten service—told us that Short North Arts District was where we wanted to be.
She did not lie.
I wanted to hate it and bah-humbug the entire night away, but goddammit if it’s not only really fucking cute but there are great drinks for prices I couldn’t have even dreamt of in LA. And Ruby, my serious friend who never takes a day off and hasn’t had more than a glass or two of wine in years, is on her hot-girl summer-party shit.
It. Is. Glorious!
“Oh my god!” She points to a bar across the street with a rooftop deck covered in string lights. “Can we go there next?”
Ashleigh and I look at each other and shrug.
“Sure,” I say. “Wherever you want to go is fine with us.”
This is Ruby’s world and we’re just living in it.
She shrieks so loud, she startles the group of too-cool men wearing coordinating striped button-ups and fedoras. They start to glare, but when they see Ruby, their entire demeanor changes.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Fedora number one in the navy shirt says. “Where are you ladies heading off to?”
I know what’s about to happen before Ruby even opens her mouth. I’d feel bad for the guys, but something about matching fedoras makes me hate them on sight. So instead, I stand to the side and enjoy the show.