by Portia Moore
“Lisa . . .” I want to explain, but it doesn’t feel right, as if I’m betraying her.
“Will says this has really been bothering Willa. I wanted to talk to you before he approaches Lisa,” she says apprehensively.
My face scrunches up. I’m surprised he’s not ecstatic that Lisa’s backed off. Whenever I went to pick Willa up, he seemed about as enthusiastic as a dude about to get a prostate exam. He and I haven’t been close since Chris and I were kids. After finding out what Mr. Scott did with Lisa, I lost all respect for him, and we keep things as short as possible with each other now.
“I’ll talk to her,” I promise Ms. Scott.
“I don’t want her to feel forced about this. I only want her to be involved if she genuinely wants to,” Ms. Red says hesitantly.
“She does, it’s just . . .” I try to figure out how much I should say. It’s not for me to tell her about Lisa’s life, but I don’t want her to think Lisa has just gotten too busy or changed her mind.
“Everything was going so well, Aidan. What happened?” she asks.
“If I tell you something . . . could it just stay between us?” I ask quietly.
“Of course.”
“I mean, you can’t tell anyone else.”
There’s a stretch of silence.
“I promise, Aidan,” she says compassionately.
“Lisa was pregnant, and it didn’t go well. Since then, she hasn’t . . . she was doing really good at first, but since . . . I think she’s taking it as a sign she shouldn’t be a mom.” I shrug.
“Oh no,” she says, sounding genuinely upset. “How far along was she?”
I tell her what happened at the ultrasound appointment and afterward, about how Lisa’s been acting, how she stopped teaching.
“Do you know if her doctor assigned her a grief counselor?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I know she went to her follow-up appointment a few days ago. Sometimes she’s happy and seems fine, then there are other times where she just seems . . .”
“Closed off,” she finishes my sentence. “She really needs to talk to someone.”
“Well, she’s not talking to me, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the best person to help her. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t talked to anyone else about it either. She’s just holding it all in, and I’m afraid if I bring it up, she’ll shut me out and it’ll just be worse for her.”
“I know that it’s an uncomfortable topic and you don’t want to hurt her, but if it’s affecting her, then she’s already hurting. She can’t take what happened as a sign she shouldn’t be in Willa’s life,” Ms. Scott says sorrowfully.
“I know, I just . . .”
“I know. I know how Lisa feels.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t want to imagine Ms. Red in that kind of pain.
“I’ll tell Will to back off and just give her some time. Try to get her to talk someone if you can. Willa really misses her,” she explains.
“I’ll do my best,” I promise.
“Thank you, Aidan.”
Talking to Lisa should be easy—it’s not like I’m usually one to hold my tongue—but this is different. The whole situation is different. But if I don’t do it, there’s really no one else. As far as I know, she doesn’t have any other friends, and her mother is a complete waste of space.
Tonight, I’m just going to man up. If she tries to shut me out, I won’t let her. She lives with me, so it can’t be that hard.
Who am I kidding? Lisa can be stubborn as hell when she wants.
It’ll all work out. It’s going to be fine.
That’s what I tell myself at least.
“THE GUY OVER there stopped me to send you a drink.” Emily smiles at me teasingly.
I laugh, already knowing who she’s talking about.
She giggles. “Whaaat? He’s cute in a just-turned-twenty-one sort of way.”
“Not my type,” I say, waiting on my next orders to come up.
“I guess you’re right, especially when you have such a hottie waiting at the bar for you to get off every night,” she says slyly.
She isn’t the first of the waitresses to ask about Aidan. Last year, or any time before that, if any girl wanted to know about Aidan, I’d lay the red carpet out for her, but now there’s a pulling in my chest that feels strangely like jealousy. Especially since Emily is cute and nice and would actually be one of his better choices. Even thinking that makes me feel as if a hole has been dug in my stomach.
“Aidan’s my best friend,” I say quickly.
“Just a friend?” she asks, seeming a little more interested than I’d like her to be.
“Yup.”
“That man is seriously single? Is he gay?” she asks in disbelief, and I laugh.
“Pretty sure he’s not, but you never can tell these days, huh?” I say flippantly, grabbing my tray of orders.
I immediately feel bad. Aidan isn’t mine to be jealous over. I try to focus on the customers, but it’d take a million of them to keep my mind off of what happened this morning. When he knocked on my door earlier, wearing his charismatic smile and a T-shirt that showcased every muscle in his body, it made me think about sex for the first time in months. When he leaned into me, our lips just inches apart and our hips even closer, it took everything in me not to kiss him. These thoughts I’ve been having about him have been driving me batshit.
I don’t have these kinds of thoughts about him. I don’t feel this way about men at all, not since . . . I don’t even want to think about that. I just hate that it’s happening when Aidan and I finally have a solid friendship. He’s been there for me so much lately, even after I was an emotional mess. He’s my anchor, but as much as I want to be near him, I can’t use him as a crutch—he deserves more than that—but that’s what I’ve been doing. It has to be, because if not, that means I really do have feelings for Aidan, which would be terrible.
I know he doesn’t see me that way. Yeah, he loves me as a friend and he likes the way I look. I used to catch him staring at my boobs and ass, but now he stares into my eyes. That’s so much scarier. I can’t risk losing the only friend I have now over my stupid feelings. Feelings have gotten me in trouble my whole life.
“Hey, Lisa?”
I’m knocked out of my thoughts by Melody, a tall blond waitress who’s barely said a word to me since I started here, not that I make much effort to talk to people these days. Melody has always given me a vibe that if I were into becoming chummy with the girls, she’d have a problem with it.
“Emily mentioned that your friend is single,” she says, then bites her bottom lip.
I feel my cheeks heat up. She’s squinting at me as if she knows my secret—that I’m sort of falling for my best friend. But since I’m too chicken to say anything, she doesn’t care.
“Um, yeah, is it, like, bachelor night or something?” I laugh, trying to play off my irritation.
She giggles in a way that’s obviously fake and flips her hair. “I noticed him checking me out, so knowing you two aren’t together makes that a lot less awkward.”
I feel a scowl settling on my face as I turn to look at her. She’s about five six, the same height as me. She has long, obviously bleached hair, but it’s a good job. She’s cute—well, more like a nine out of ten. The type of girl who’s used to getting guys’ attention without doing as much as batting an eyelash. Aidan would do her in a heartbeat.
“You think he’d be into me? You’re his best friend and all, so I’m pretty sure you know his type,” she asks, but from her arrogant grin, she already knows the answer. “I’m just asking because I think Emily and Marie are into him too, so I’ll back off if they’re more his speed.”
Of the three, she’s definitely more Aidan’s type, unfortunately.
“I won’t say anything of course. It’d be our secret.” She flashes me a grin, displaying her perfectly straight, freshly whitened teeth.
I let out a deep breath, trying to maintain my compo
sure. This girl must take me for an idiot. She’s barely said a word to me since I started, but now that she’s heard Aidan’s my best friend, she wants to be buddy buddy. She’s so transparent.
“You don’t have to say anything. I think I can read you answer.” She rubs her finger across her mouth as if it indicates her lips are sealed before sauntering away.
Ugh, why did I open my big mouth and tell all of these desperate, half-naked chicks that my hottie of a best friend is single and free game? It’s not like I should care though. He is single and fair game. That’s what I keep telling myself, but the knot in my stomach isn’t going away. After I drop off my order, I head to the back, grab my phone out of my locker, and send him a text.
Hey you don’t have to come by tonight, it’s going to be super busy. See you at home!
I think back to high school, when Aidan called me a cock block and I’d laugh it off. All these years later, that’s exactly what I’m doing . . . but as guilty as I feel, a huge part of me is relieved. If these vultures want him, they’ll have to make more of an effort. I’m not just going to serve him up on a platter.
When I have an hour left of my shift, I take one of the shots that we get for free. We get three a night, to be exact. I haven’t had anything to drink in so long, and tonight, it’s much needed. I had two super-rude customers—both women who probably assumed I was into their guys. They made my job hell by sending back dishes, telling me their drinks were weak, and on top of it, not leaving a tip.
I head to my next table. It’s another couple, and my stomach drops. I hope they’re siblings, or at least that the girl isn’t insane.
“Welcome to Ardeby’s,” I say with a fake smile.
“Lisa!”
Her squeal is familiar even years later.
“Amanda!” I squeal, ecstatic to see her.
It’s Amanda! My best friend from high school! She jumps up from the booth and almost knocks me down with a hug.
“Oh my God, you’re harder to find than Where’s Waldo!” she says, swatting my arm.
I laugh at her. She still looks the same, except her blond hair is cut in a cute little pixie cut. She has on a white sweater and blue jeans and looks to have picked up about ten pounds that look awesome on her.
“Lisa, this is my husband, Isaac,” she says, introducing me to the guy sitting across from her.
He looks at me with a wide smile, obviously accustomed to his wife’s excitement. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I can’t help but smile.
“I have looked all over Facebook, Instagram, and even LinkedIn. You’re like a social media ghost!” she says with a pout.
“Yeah, I’ve never really been into that stuff.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh my gosh, you look great!”
“So do you!” I say, giving her another hug.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
I giggle. “I’m at work.
She flips her bangs out of her face. “Right, oh my God, you’re at work,” she says with a laugh.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. When she went away to school after I got back from having Willa, we lost touch.
“It’s my mom and dad’s anniversary, so coming back wasn’t really optional. What time are you off? We have to catch up! I leave in two days. We’ve got to get together before I leave!” she says in a way that lets me know she’s not taking no for answer.
“I have another hour in my shift,” I tell her.
“That’s perfect! Isaac and I can have dinner, then we can drink until we can’t stand up straight and he can take us home afterward.”
Isaac chuckles.
“Are you sure?” I ask, still shocked to see her.
“Of course! You’re my MIA best friend. We are having drinks!” she demands.
“Well, I guess I’ll get you guys started with an order.” I giggle.
After I finish my shift, Isaac leaves and Emily becomes our waitress. Amanda orders two rum punches and tells Emily to keep them coming.
It turns out after Amanda graduated from college, she did a six-month tour around Europe, then lived in Edinburgh of all places. I never imagined her choosing Scotland over Italy or France, but she tells me I’d love it there, that it’s a beautiful city and the people are nice. She lived there for three years, then came back and got a job as an accountant at a firm in Seattle, where she lives now. Turns out she’s fallen in love with rainy places after living in Edinburgh. Isaac was one of her clients, and three years later became her husband. I can’t help but smile at how much has changed but is still the same. She’s still her bubbly, optimistic self.
“I’ve rattled your ears off. Now tell me about you! I never would have expected you to be back here. You hated this town,” she says.
I try to think of where to start. “Well, I went to college, graduated, and from there, I found a job teaching here. I don’t know, it was scary to leave,” I say.
“You became a teacher?” She looks confused. Obviously the years apart haven’t made her feel awkward about prying.
I chuckle. “Yeah, who’d have ever thought?” I’m glad to see Emily appearing with our rum punches.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always been super smart, but you never talked about wanting to be a teacher when we were kids,” she says, still in disbelief.
“Yeah, it was one of my wacky ideas.”
“So if you’re a teacher . . . what are you doing here?” she asks in a way that only she could make cute and not offensive.
“Well . . . I-I . . .”
She looks at me, her eyes wide and hopeful and completely non-judgmental. I think back to the nights I spent at her house. She always made me feel at home, like I could leave my baggage behind and truly be a teenage girl without a care in the world except for how we could mimic the latest makeup looks our favorite stars wore. I want to tell her everything, but I’m afraid to. I have to remind myself that even though she’s Amanda, she’s Amanda ten years later. She’s Amanda with a husband and a career and life experience, and I still feel like a teenage girl making the same mistakes over and over.
“Hon, are you okay?” she asks, taking my hand.
She makes me want to pour out everything. “I got pregnant senior year, that’s why I went away. I had a baby, and I gave her to my aunt Danni.”
“What?” Her eyes widen like a scared cat’s. Her disbelief is mixed with curiosity and excitement.
For the next hour, I tell her everything, with the aid of rum punches, from what happened with Will, to me coming back and Chris ending our friendship, to going to California with Brett and even losing the baby.
That was the hardest part.
She listens intently, taking big gulps of her rum punches—she’s on her third now—without interrupting. I guarantee she’s going to talk Isaac’s ear off when he picks her back up.
“I cannot believe that. How . . . oh my gosh, I don’t even know . . .” She shakes her head in disbelief.
“Please say something. You’re the first person I’ve ever told all of this to,” I say, starting to feel embarrassed.
“Oh my God, oh my God . . . Chris’s dad was the mystery dude I told you to go after!” She looks horrified.
I remember how I told her about the mystery guy I’d fallen for. I feel really guilty now. I felt guilty then.
“You didn’t push me. That was all on me.”
She still looks guilty, then her eyes widen. “You seriously need to write a book. This is a lot. I can’t believe you’re not in some psych ward. You and Chris’s dad, him and his wife raising your baby, then you getting back with Brett, and now you and Aidan practically living together and you falling for him. Wow!” She heaves a dramatic sigh.
“The craziness of my life,” I say with a dry chuckle.
Her face softens, and she takes my hand. “I’m really sorry about the baby.”
I fight the tears welling up in my eyes.
“I’ve had a miscarriage.
I was only nine weeks, but Isaac and I had been trying.” She’s looking off in the distance and her voice is low, and I hate that I’ve brought her back to a place it looks like she’d gotten away from.
“I’m sorry for bringing this up. I didn’t . . .”
She gives me a look to shut me up. “We named the baby Peyton, since it could have been a boy or a girl.”
I squeeze her hand.
“Did you have a name picked out?” she asks.
I blink away the tears. “I never said it out loud, but if it was a girl, I was going to name her London, and if it was a boy, Marcus.” I stop, feeling my throat tighten. I quickly wipe away my tears, remembering that I’m still at work. I don’t need anything else to make me a topic of conversation here.
She takes a napkin and wipes her eyes as well. “Lisa, you should talk to someone about this. You have to. I did for almost six months, and I had Isaac with me every step of the way. You’ve been holding all of this in?”
I pick up my rum punch and take a sip. “I just . . . I felt like since at first I didn’t want to be pregnant, it was my fault.”
She gets up and comes to give me a big hug. “This was not your fault; you stop thinking that this minute. You do not let this make you feel like you can’t be a good mother, or aren’t meant to be one. We’re human. Every one of us on this planet has made a mistake.”
Her words and the comfort she’s giving me make me want to hug her and never let her go.
“You need to talk to someone.” She reaches across our table and grabs her phone. “This is the doctor I spoke to afterward. It really helped. I can’t imagine healing while keeping it all bottled in.” She hands the phone and makes me key the doctor’s contact information into my phone. “She’s out of the state, but she can refer you to someone here or maybe offer Skype sessions or something like that.”
I nod.
“You still have a beautiful little girl who needs you. Don’t take what happened as a sign to close her out, but as a sign to let her in.” She hugs me again.