“Oh.” We stare at each other, and then I glance at her coffee cup. Hoping for a reprieve from whatever interrogation this is, I ask, “Can I get you a refill while I get my mug?”
“Sure,” Alexis says. What she doesn’t say is, “That’s the least you can do,” but she somehow manages to convey it.
I pay for my own bottomless mug and fill it up. I can’t help, as I head over to the self-serve carafes, but think about all the times we’d come here with Finn and Sylvie to study. Not much studying was ever done, and that always bothered Sylvie but not the rest of us.
On a whim, I fill her cup up with an extra-dark roast like Sylvie drinks. I add sugar and cream before bringing it to her, but Alexis still grimaces at the first sip. She doesn’t complain though. She pushes the mug to the side of the table and looks back at me.
“Well,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“You have been a really shitty boyfriend this summer,” Alexis says to me.
“How is that possible? When I’m not your boyfriend?”
“We’ve been sleeping together all summer.” She says it slowly and sadly, like she regrets expecting better from me.
“You’re the one who said, ‘This isn’t a thing. We’re just convenient to each other,’ remember?”
She waves my words—or rather her words—away with one hand.
“Whether we were technically together or not, it doesn’t matter,” Alexis says. “You haven’t been treating me right, so I’m here to say, once and for all, that I’m through with you. We’re over.”
From the pout on her face, she’s already decided on her reply, and it doesn’t matter what I say next. So I answer, “Yeah, I know. Because we broke up last March, and we haven’t spoken in three weeks.”
“And why is that, Jack?” Alexis asks. “Why haven’t we spoken?”
“Are you serious?” I had been blowing on my coffee to cool it, but I freeze with the mug held under my mouth as I gape at her.
“Yes, I’m serious.” She raises her chin.
“Because Finn died, Lexy.” I’m so confused. I set my mug down with a clink. Some hot coffee spills onto my fingers, but I don’t react.
“Exactly.” She throws up her hands like I’ve proven her point.
“I don’t understand. I’ve been grieving, Lexy.”
“And you left me to grieve alone!”
I’m not sure if the coffee shop falls silent at her outburst or if I’ve momentarily gone deaf. Either way, there’s a ringing in my ears that prevents me from hearing myself when I say, “How dare you.”
Alexis must have a ringing in her ears too, because she cups her hand around her ear as she says, “Huh? Speak up.”
“How dare you say that to me,” I say as this strangely serene feeling fills me. It’s suddenly all so clear.
So many times, I told myself that I’d finally seen the “real” Alexis, that I’d never fall for her antics again, but I always did. I understand now. I’d seen aspects of the real Alexis, but I’ve never seen them together as a whole. Now all those pieces have come together, and I can finally see the whole Alexis.
It’s actually a very simple picture. She’s a really insecure girl who defines herself entirely by the people she surrounds herself with. Her friends are a collection, a planetary system she has built to rotate around her.
“How dare I? Jack, you—”
“No, no,” I say. “If I wanted to, I could have called you here and said, ‘Hey, we were sleeping together all summer, and then my best friend died, and you didn’t even check on me.’ I could do that. You don’t get to do that.” I try not to have my tone sound like I’m talking to a child, but it’s hard.
“He was my friend too,” Alexis says. “Why can’t you or Sylvie see that?”
And it happens again. What’s unfolding is so clear that I laugh.
She’s surprised enough to lose her focus, and in the pause, I share my humorous revelation.
“This isn’t about us, is it, Lex? Sylvie broke up with you.”
I try not to laugh again, because now it feels a little mean, but it’s all so silly and obvious. Sylvie hurt her, so she’s trying to reenact that with me instead of looking at herself and wondering why Sylvie made that choice.
Alexis is sputtering.
“Sylvie and I didn’t break up! We both have a lot going on, and I’m going off to school, and she needs to find a new shrink—poor thing!—and we both needed to take a step back from our friendship.”