“You think you got space to negotiate here?”
“I think Frank is going to be pissed if you come back empty-handed. If you want your money, this is the way to get it.”
“Fine. Eight p.m. downtown,” he said finally. “Look for a text with an address.”
I waited for some rush of regret after I hung up. The return of that fear. But nothing came. Protecting my friends was the right thing to do. After everything they had done for me over the years, everything they were still doing— it needed to stop. Otherwise, I’d just keep dragging all of them down, forever. I knew that I would.
Worst of all was letting them share the blame for Alice. When what happened was all my fault, not theirs. I’d taken our fragile, broken friend, a girl I loved, and shoved her right over the edge— and I’d never owned up.
Alice had been off her medication for weeks before the roof. I could always tell. I’d told her to get back on it. The way I always did— with a lot of bravado, but without any actual follow-through. I didn’t call her mom, didn’t go to the health center. Didn’t tell anyone. Because deep down I was too afraid they’d say I was the reason she needed medication in the first place. How fucking self-involved is that?
And then the accident on the roof happened, and Alice went from bad to so much worse. I knew that I couldn’t, shouldn’t, be accountable for her. Alice needed someone brave enough to actually help her, strong enough to make the right choices.
Alice saw it coming, too. Right away, she seemed defensive when I showed up outside her dance class unannounced. Tugging on one of her long reddish braids, looking strong and fragile all at once in her cropped hoodie and leggings. It was only five days after the roof. Five days for me to realize that I didn’t have it in me to put Alice back together again. We needed to be apart for good.
“What’s wrong?” Alice asked me, already downshifting from defensive to wounded.
Staring at her sweet, freckled face, I wanted to cave. To forget the whole thing. But what about the damage I’d do if Alice and I stayed together? And so I panicked when I felt myself wavering, all the careful things I’d planned to say going out the window. I grabbed instead for something quick and easy and so unbelievably cruel.
“I’m in love with somebody else.”
“What?” Alice had laughed, sure it was some kind of joke.
“No, it’s true,” I lied. “That’s why— that’s the reason I can’t be better to you. Because I’m in love with someone else.”
Tears flooded her hazel eyes. “Of course you are,” she said finally. “That would make sense.”
“I’m not good for you, anyway,” I offered feebly. And also Alice wasn’t good for me— that was true, too, wasn’t it?
“Right.” Alice had gripped her dance bag against her strong, small body as she blinked back her tears. Already, her face was setting into stone. “Who is— you know what, I don’t even want to know who she is.”
“We shouldn’t be together anyway, Alice,” I added, still afraid I might try to take it back later. Because I did love Alice. I did.
“Okay, fine,” she said with an angry, exaggerated shrug. “Whatever you want, Keith. Whatever.”
And with that, she’d turned and walked away. Six hours later, thanks to me, she’d be dead. And all these years later, I was still letting my friends believe they were as much to blame as me.
I didn’t leave my room at Jonathan’s house until 7:30 p.m. I even pretended to be asleep when the door opened and closed a couple times. I’d found a pad of paper and a pen in the nightstand drawer （of course, only Jonathan）， and I wrote a quick note: “You deserve better than Peter. Keith.” There was more I thought about writing to Jonathan, more I could have thanked him for, or apologized for, or tried to explain. But it seemed like too much and not enough. And Jonathan being worth more than Peter was the part he needed to remember.
I headed toward Jonathan’s bedroom, hoping to leave the note somewhere he’d find it later. But the door swung open just as I reached it, and there was Peter, shirtless and in a pair of jeans. Peter was always shirtless.
“What do you want?” he asked— aggressive, loud. Peter was only that way with me, always out of Jonathan’s earshot. Like I was a little kid he could abuse because I’d never be believed. He wasn’t wrong— it had been a justifiably long time since anyone had listened to me. “Oh, wait, let me guess, you’re here for our money? You sure could buy a lot of drugs with twenty thousand dollars.”