Standing outside his apartment, I remembered that Tuesday nights he met with his writing group, the progressive poets of color collective. Or was it Wednesdays he met with the poets? And Tuesday he played in the adult volleyball league? I couldn’t remember, and anyway maybe his schedule wasn’t the same anymore.
I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. My heart leaped, hoping it was Ed somehow. Then I remembered I’d blocked his number.
It was Fiona. “Where are you?” she asked.
“Nothing’s going on between Aaron and me,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “Come back. Please?”
I was already staggering in the direction of the bar.
When I got there, Fiona was standing by herself outside, smoking a cigarette. She looked like she’d been crying.
“Where’s Aaron?”
“Jane,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It was a mistake.”
“No it wasn’t,” she choked out. “He’s sleeping with someone else. Some actress,” she added. She dropped the cigarette on the ground and tented her hands over her face. “He said he’s in love with her. He said he’s in love with both of us. What does that even mean?” She shook her head. “Why does this always happen to me?”
Later, I drove us back to my apartment. We lay down to sleep side by side in my bed, something we hadn’t done in years. She turned her back to me, and I slid an arm over her, found her hand in the dark, curled into a fist. I held her like that for a while. Smelling her hair, the back of her neck, I held her. I liked being Fiona’s big spoon. Even after I heard her breath go steady, I kept holding on.
* * *
? ? ?
We started unpacking in the kitchen, unwrapping the dishes and glasses and placing them in her new cabinets. The rice cooker fit over there, under the microwave mounted to the wall. Then, the living room: we replaced the slats into the bookshelf, crammed her books in tight until there was no more space in each row. She broke the silence, said she needed to buy something made of real wood, and then we were quiet again.
We worked steadily for two hours, putting her apartment in order. It was three o’clock before we realized we were hungry. We walked to a sushi restaurant two blocks away on Hyperion, ate quickly, then returned to finish. I knew it was important for Fiona to feel at home on her first night in the new place, to get as much of the unpacking completed as she could.
After the last box was opened and put away, we uncorked a bottle of red, poured two glasses, and sank into opposite ends of the sofa.
“This shit is worn-out,” she said about the sofa.
“It’s comfortable,” I said.
“Why did I even move it over here?”
I told her the new place looked good, that it had a good vibe.
“Jane,” she said. She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, you know? I was a jerk to you. About Aaron. I just thought— I don’t know what I thought—”
“He’s a dick,” I said. “A narcissist.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. She hesitated before adding, “I was jealous. The two of you, it’s like you had your own little club, your private in-jokes.”
“I was stupid,” I said. “It shouldn’t have been like that.”
“I should’ve trusted you. I don’t know why I didn’t trust you.”
“Fiona,” I said.
“You’re my best friend, and I—”
“I have to tell you something.” I hesitated. “I swear to God, I was going to talk to you about it, but I was so wrapped up in my own shit, with Ed—I know it’s not an excuse—and then—”
“Wait. What are you talking about?”
“I knew,” I said. I heard myself tell her that I knew about Aaron and the actress, that he’d confessed it to me at one of our happy hours.
“He told you,” Fiona said slowly. “He talked to you about cheating on me?”
“I didn’t know he had feelings for her,” I said. “He said it only happened one time. So I thought it was a mistake—”
“And you didn’t tell me?” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And then you went and accused me—”
“Don’t turn this around,” she said. “I knew something weird was going on—I just didn’t think—”
“I screwed up,” I said. “I don’t have— I’m sorry, Fi. Okay? Please—”