That’s the thing about our friendship. Messing up isn’t merely acceptable, it’s encouraged. It’s hard not to seek out validation when I’m feeling terrible about last night.
My friendship with Nicole wasn’t, isn’t, healthy. I know that now. But it was my constant growing up. And I was her constant. I let Aiden down last night. Am I really going to let Nicole down, too? If she’s calling me again, for the second time in a week, there has to be a reason. Even though there is a sense of foreboding in my stomach, I can’t decline the call when she has nowhere else to turn.
I don’t want to walk out of human resources before I’m finished, but I also don’t want to miss the call, so I answer and keep the phone down on my thigh. “Excuse me?” I ask the human resources director, who arches an eyebrow at me. “Am I all set or do you need me to fill out anything else…？”
Her smile is pinched. “All set, Ms. Schmidt. You can go. Please remember to keep your badge visible at all times.”
“Yes. Will do.”
I rise and leave the office, entering the warehouse-like space that holds merchandise and veer toward the rear exit door—mostly used for employee smoke breaks—waiting until I’m outside to press the phone to my ear.
“Nicole. Hey.”
“Nice of you to answer. And with such enthusiasm, too!” There’s a long pause. “Excuse the hell out of me for being excited to hear my best friend’s voice for the first time in years.”
A kernel of guilt wiggles its way into my throat, despite hour upon hour of counseling from Dr. Skinner that suggested I should feel the opposite. It’s a lot easier to recognize a toxic relationship when there’s some distance. But having their voice, their character up close and personal is different. There’s nostalgia and reminders of the good times attached to that voice. I…should be excited to speak with her, as well. Shouldn’t I? I once referred to Nicole as my sister. We went through puberty together and we vowed to grow old in a condo by the ocean. Countless nights of our youth were spent sneaking out, huddled up behind the local liquor store talking about the adventures we were going to take as soon as we had the money. A few words from Nicole and I can smell cigarette smoke, burnt hot dogs from 7-Eleven and peach schnapps or whatever terrible liquor I pilfered from my parents that wouldn’t be missed.
“Yeah, hey, I’m sorry.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, wincing at how little time it took me to start apologizing. “I just didn’t expect the call.”
Being that we were in prison for the same crime, we were not on each other’s approved caller lists, so no phone calls were allowed. We’ve written letters over the years, but they definitely grew strained and thinned out toward the end of my sentence. There was always a tone of resentment from Nicole’s letters because of my actions the night of the robbery and the fact that my sentence was shorter because of it.
Nicole sniffs. There’s some shouting in the background. A security door slamming. Familiar sounds that make my stomach turn over like a rusted car engine. “That’s fine,” she says. “So where are you?”
I stare down at my feet, fighting to swallow. God, I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want anything to touch the fragile construction of this new beginning. It’s barely in its infancy. I’m proud of the steps I’ve taken, but she’ll find a reason to put it down. “Home,” I croak, then clear my throat. “I went home. I’m at my parents’ house.”
Several seconds tick by. I can feel my pulse hammering at the side of my neck. “Really?” Her laugh is like a recording from the past. “Because I spoke to them a few days ago. When you wouldn’t answer my call, I tried them instead. Can’t say they were happy to hear from me, but they did say you were in New York at your uncle’s place.”
My whole body feels hot.
Like my beating heart has expanded and taken up every corner of my insides.
“We always talked about going there together. Getting jobs, taking advantage of the cheap rent and saving up our money. Using it as our jumping-off point.”
“I remember,” I say through stiff lips.
“Why would you lie?”
“I don’t know.” The winter sun is blinding. It’s cold, but I’m swearing. “I’m just…look. l’m trying something new. I’m starting over.”
“Without me, sounds like,” she adds flatly.
Yes. Say yes. This is my chance to set the boundary. I practiced this for years with Dr. Skinner. Why are the words sticking in my throat? Words that are written in a notebook at the apartment, so I wouldn’t forget.
I take ownership of my bad decisions. Every single one of them. Those bad decisions were made alongside Nicole, though. They were made with a lot of pressure on my back. Saying no to anything made her defensive. Any time I questioned her, she broke me down. Accused me of thinking I was better than her because I was raised with middle class advantages. And she kept up until I just gave in, scared to drive a wedge between us. Because at that point, she was the only one I had. I’d alienated everyone else. Or she’d done it for me.
“Whatever, it’s fine.” she laughs. “Don’t include me in your plans. I’m used to being left behind, right? My parents didn’t even come to my parole hearing.”
“Parole hearing,” I echo, cymbals crashing in my ears.
Nicole hums. “I thought I was calling to give you good news, but maybe you want me to stay in here and rot while you’re ‘starting over’ in New York.”
I lean back against the building, my legs no longer able to support me. “You got parole?”
The robotic recording starts to play, telling us we only have thirty seconds left.
“That’s right. Guess they decided to be lenient with me, too. It’s about time something went my fucking way, right?” She pauses. “Do you have a car?”
I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “No.”
Her sigh fills my ear. “Guess you won’t be able to pick me up.”
She leaves it hanging there. Automatically, my mind scrambles for a solution. A way to get me to Connecticut so I can be there when she walks out. So I can help her. I had someone there, didn’t I? My father might have been tight-lipped and distant, but he showed up. Brought me home to Pennsylvania, gave me enough money to start me off in New York. It’s an advantage that Nicole doesn’t have. I’m selfish if I don’t do something to help. I can’t just pull up the rope ladder and leave her trapped in the basement. “I mean, I can send some money. I don’t have a lot left and I won’t get my first paycheck for another week or so—”
“You got a job? What is it?”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me.
No. No, I won’t tell her about this. I can’t. She’ll hate everything about it. If I think I’m dealing with imposter syndrome now, her reaction to me having such a high-end job will take the cake. Score another one Stella. Some people are born with it all.
Our time is running out.
“Ten seconds remaining,” chirps the voice.