by Leah Konen
Jake’s eyebrows knit up. “But it doesn’t turn out to be a ghost story.”
This is it, I think. This is where he figures it all out. It doesn’t matter if he likes her or he likes me. He won’t want anything to do with either of us once he knows the full truth. Part of me is almost relieved. No more charades. No more lies. He’ll never forgive me, but at least he’ll know. At least it will be over.
“Remember, it’s all in Sophia’s head, because of her past trauma,” Jake says. He turns to me, his face falling to a frown. “Shit, I’m sorry. Spoiler alert. Ugh.”
Katie doesn’t miss a beat. “I know, I know,” she says. “But it’s a metaphorical ghost story. She’s haunted by her past, right?”
Jake’s eyes take me in, like he can sense it in me, that something is off.
I look away, picking at a bit of yet unravaged nail.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, I know, but still, I’m not sure I’d really call it a ghost—”
“I mean,” Katie goes on, “is there any need for ghost stories anymore, anyway? Isn’t it much more interesting to explore the ghost we all carry within us? In our modern world, haven’t we moved beyond things that just go boo?”
I look up to see her popping another fry into her mouth. The Great Katie Carrie has spoken.
She’s wrong, totally wrong, and I wait for Jake to say it, to school her. Ghost stories are a central tenet of horror, have been forever, and while some movies play on the tropes without having actual ghosts, the more traditional ones are not going to take the route of their star specters and disappear. These sorts of films are not ever going to go away.
I glance at Jake, at his face, unreadable, and it feels, suddenly, like it all rides on his reaction. Whether he finds Fake Carrie enchanting or disenchanting.
He breaks into a grin. “You know, that’s a good point,” he says, eating up her words faster than he scarfed his burger. “I’d honestly never thought about it like that.”
I can’t help it, I push my plate forward. I can’t sit here and watch this anymore.
“Sorry, but I’m not feeling great,” I say, eyeing the exit.
Jake stands up to let me pass, and before they can stop me, I squeeze out of the booth, out of the restaurant, and into the fresh air.
Out of my own horror movie. The one I can only blame myself for creating.
Bridges of Madison County
Katie finds me on Mill Hill Road, a few shops down from the burger place. “What are you doing?” she asks, hand on her hip like she’s my mom.
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I just can’t go back in there. It’s all too much.”
Katie sighs loudly, then grabs me by the elbow and nods to the crosswalk.
“You’re lucky,” she says as we make our way across the street and up the stone sidewalk. “I told Jake that you have a food intolerance that sometimes hits out of the blue, and you were sorry for leaving so abruptly.”
“Great,” I say, nausea coating my stomach, and not from any purported food intolerance, either. “All I need is another lie.”
Katie stops just short of the car. “I also told him that you’d Venmo him the money for our portion, so as not to seem rude.”
“Okay,” I say. “I get it.”
I shuffle toward the car, and Katie gets in the driver’s seat. “My house is just down the road. A left at the corner.” She nods, but I can tell she’s fuming. “So are you going to tell me why you stormed out like that? I honestly thought it was all going off pretty well.”
“Of course you did,” I say as she makes the turn.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Katie asks.
“I mean, you didn’t have to play it up so much, did you?” I tug at the edge of another nail.
“Are you seriously mad at me for doing too good of a job?” Katie asks. “He totally bought it; all of it.”
“Exactly,” I say. “I never asked for an Oscar-worthy performance. Turn left.”
Katie huffs, but she dutifully makes the turn. “Sorry, Olivia, next time I impersonate someone without any warning, I’ll make sure to be a bit more robotic.”
My house comes into view, and she pulls into my drive, winding toward the cottage. It’s still just barely light, but the sky is purple-blue now, the sun almost set. “I don’t mean robotic,” I say as she puts the car into park. “I just mean less dramatic. Less . . . enchanting.”
“Dramatic?” she asks, focusing only on the former accusation. “Seriously?”
I look away so she can’t catch my eyes. “It was like The Katie Show in there. I know guys eat that sort of thing up, but I don’t even act like that. It’s not me.”
“I thought the whole point was for him not to know it was you?”
I turn back to look at her. “Yeah, but you don’t have to make me this completely different person,” I say. “Ghost stories will always be important to horror. I would never say that.”
Katie laughs, tossing her head back. “So you want me to be kind of like you, but not too much, and also not too enchanting. And to do a good job, but not too good of a job. Girl. You should hear yourself.”
I feel my eyes begin to well, and Katie puts a hand on my shoulder. “Olivia, it’s okay. There’s nothing to cry about. I’ll tone it down, okay? Believe me, it’s obviously you he’s into. You’re the one who sent all those messages to him. The only reason he was even talking to me was because he was excited to finally meet you.”
I brush the moisture from my eyes with the back of my hand.
“I know you think I’m dramatic, but you’re the one who’s storming out of restaurants, mind you,” Katie says.
“I know,” I say, feeling suddenly foolish. “I’m being a total drama queen, and I don’t want to be.”
Katie holds up a hand. “First off, the one true Drama Queen will always be Meryl, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about stealing her title. Second, I’ve known you a while now. I’m used to your antics. This is a bit more involved than most situations we’ve been in together, but we’ll get through it. We always do.”
“Thanks,” I say, pushing away the sting of jealousy as I realize, once again, that Katie really is the best best friend ever. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
“Can we go inside now?” Katie asks. “I need some chips or something since I had to leave with a quarter of my burger still sitting on my plate.”
We spend the night watching a movie with my parents, their taste aligning with Katie’s better than it ever has with mine, passing around a bag of the white cheddar popcorn my dad’s been addicted to for years, and sitting stock-still at the sex scene that makes us all feel uncomfortable, no matter how cool my parents try to be about it.
As the movie plays out, I try to focus on the good things: that my best friend, whom I love—who always knows how to make me happy—is with me, saving me from the summer I thought would be mind-numbing. That my world of lies hasn’t come crumbling around me just yet. Only problem is, as she munches at the popcorn, digging her fingers down to the saltiest crumbs like she always does, I can’t help but feel off. Things were going so well before she arrived. I was going to tell him the truth today. Now, with Katie here, that feels impossible. The lies go too deep.
More than that, it’s clear to me after tonight that there’s a reason she’s the star and I’m not. Seeing her at the restaurant—cracking jokes, detailing her bus ride, making up theories about movies she hasn’t even seen—it’s easy to see what makes her so lovable. It’s hard to feel anything but dull by comparison, no matter what’s happened over the last few weeks.
When the movie’s finished, my mom stands up, flipping off the TV and turning to me. “I forgot to ask,” she says. “Were you surprised? Katie’s been planning for a few days, and I hope I didn’t give it away!”
“Believe me,” I say. “I was definitely surprised.”
My dad gets up, too. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you
want, Katie.”
“Thanks, Mr. Knight,” she says politely.
He crumples up the bag of popcorn and takes it to the kitchen, and my parents begin their evening shuffle. Water, vitamins, turning off the lights.
Back in my room, after changing out of our regular clothes and into PJs, Katie turns to me. “Are you feeling any better?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
She sits on my bed, and I plop next to her. A smile twists at the corners of her mouth. “Never in a million years did I anticipate my most challenging acting role would be in real life.”
“That’s what happens when you surprise people,” I say.
“Correction, my friend. That’s what happens when you surprise people who’ve concocted elaborate online identities featuring your very own photo.” She pauses. “Are you going to tell me why you used my photo, anyway?”
I sigh. “Because I looked awful that day, okay? And I just thought, I don’t know . . . It was stupid. It was a snap decision.”
Katie shakes her head. “Come on, Olivia. How many times do I have to tell you you’re—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She sighs. “Well, which one did you use, anyway?”
I shrug, figuring she might as well know. I grab my phone, load up Reddit, scroll through the hundreds of messages between Elm and me until I find it. I hold it out in front of her.
“That?” she asks. “All this for that? It’s not even a good photo!”
I whip the phone away, toss it onto my nightstand. “Yes it is. Every one of your photos is a good photo.”
“What can I say?” She rests her head on her hands and bats her lashes. “I’m always ready for my close-up.”
I don’t laugh.
“Oh, come on,” Katie says. “I’m telling you, you’re just as photogenic as I am.”
That, on the other hand, does get a laugh out of me.
“You are!”
“Can we not go down this road, okay?”
“The Olivia Is Beautiful but Doesn’t Know It Road? Right next to It’s Time to Love Yourself Already Street? Across the corner from Things Will Work Out If You Only Stay Positive Way?”
I can’t help but laugh. Then my phone buzzes, and I forget all her affirmations: a message on Reddit.
ElmStreetNightmare84: So great meeting you, even if it got cut a little short! Still can’t believe this crazy coincidence. It’s amazing!
My stomach sinks. He’s going to choose her. I just know it.
“What is it?” Katie asks.
“Nothing,” I say, setting the phone facedown on my dresser.
Katie leans against my headboard. “Anyway, you should have warned me if my presence would set off some sort of chain reaction. You were the one who begged me to come up and save you from your exile in the Catskills. Remember?”
Of course I remember, but it feels so long ago now. I thought that this summer would be hell, but it’s been kind of wonderful, truthfully. And now it’s all messed up. Broken beyond repair.
I glance over to Katie. “I still don’t get it,” I say.
“What?” she asks.
“Why aren’t you in your program?”
“I told you,” she says. “It was beneath me.”
My eyes narrow. I’d been hearing about the program for ages, and I can’t imagine she’d change her mind about it, just like that. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Katie says, eyes suddenly on her hands. I want to ask more, but I know what it’s like to not want to talk about things that make you upset.
“Let’s just go to sleep,” I say instead. “I’m exhausted from all the drama.”
She whips her head up, narrowing her eyes at me. “Hey, you’re not the one who spent the whole evening acting.”
I manage a smirk. “No. I was only director, writer, and muse all in one.”
“Just don’t get too used to it,” she says. “I like to retain some creative control.”
I laugh.
“By the way,” she says. “What’s this about the screenplay? You finished?”
“It’s just ninety pages,” I say. “They’re not even very good.”
Katie shakes her head in disbelief. “Ninety pages is insane, Olivia. I seriously can’t even comprehend it.”
“Don’t act so shocked.” I lean back, sinking deeper into the pillows.
“Girl, it’s not about me believing in you or not. There are people at the New School, like, studying writing and all that, paying shitloads of money to be there, who have accomplished less, I guarantee you. This is amazing. I’m so freaking proud of you, you don’t even know.”
“Well, it’s just another thing that’s messed up now,” I say, crossing my arms. “Because Jake thinks you wrote it.”
Katie sits up straighter, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Olivia, forget about Jake for a minute. Or his nerdy handle, all that. You were afraid you could never do this, and you did. Whatever else happens, that’s huge.”
“But—”
“No buts,” she snaps. “You’re a rock star. Own it, for once, okay? Girl, this is your Bridges of Madison County.”
The Dexter Incident
I try to own it, like Katie said, but it’s not that easy.
I texted Jake this morning—Sorry for leaving like that. Let me know how much we owe you!—and I still haven’t heard back. Since he’s at his internship, I won’t be seeing him around the office. Part of me thinks he’s pissed. Another fears he’s wildly in love with Katie. And a tiny, tiny part hopes that somehow Katie is right, that if I can stop being such a drama queen, this will somehow magically all work out.
When it comes time for lunch, it’s too nasty to sit outside, so I find a quiet table in the corner of the lodge and take out my turkey sandwich, the bread’s edges stale. Even with all the windows, it’s fairly dark in here, the sky so foggy you can’t even see the mountains.
“Hey, stranger.”
I look up, and to my shock, it’s Jake, his face stretched into a grin.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. Between him and Katie, the two are full of surprises, practically walking jump scares.
He takes a step or two back. “Sorry, just thought I’d say hi. I’m on my lunch break at my internship and . . .”
The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them. “What, did you come just to see me?” It’s the kind of thing Katie would say. Bold and unapologetic.
Jake looks taken aback. “No,” he says. “I mean, I just, I left something at the check-in office yesterday. Marianne told me you’d be out here . . .”
“It was just a joke,” I say, though I guess I thought that maybe, just maybe, he might have. Serves me right for trying to act like Katie would.
The corner of his mouth tilts up. “I thought bad jokes were my purview.”
I laugh, but it comes out weak. It’s like, since Katie arrived, we can’t quite get back to us. Even more, I can’t quite get back to me.
“Anyway,” he says, taking a deep breath, as if he senses the awkwardness, too. “You okay?” he asks. “I mean, after last night . . .”
No, I want to say. No, I’m not. And it’s no one’s fault but mine. I was scared, I didn’t believe in myself, and now I’m in too deep. Now it’s all screwed up.
Most of all, I want to tell him, I misled you, and I feel sick about it.
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m sorry about peacing out without saying goodbye.”
“Hey,” he says. “I get it. When stomach issues strike, right?” His face instantly turns red. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it. Not that I want to talk about it or anything, believe me. I mean, not that I’m one of those weirdos who likes to pretend girls don’t have stomach issues. Shit, I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”
I laugh. “No,” I say. “It’s not that. Honestly, it wasn’t my stomach, I just wasn’t feeling that great.”
“Oh,” Jake says, eyes turning down at the corners.
“Any reason?”
I look down at my sandwich, then back up again. Not lying is one thing, telling the full truth another. “Not really,” I say. “Anyway, did you get to finish your burger, at least?”
Jake smiles. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell you; but since you asked, I finished mine, polished off the sweet potato fries, and I may have had a little bit of yours and Katie’s, too.”
My eyebrows shoot up playfully. “You monster.”
His eyes widen. “I know, I know. You should have seen the way the waitress looked at me. Went from being the uber-cool guy at a table with two girls to the sad loner eating off of other people’s plates.”
I laugh. “That’s quite the fall from grace.”
He pauses, his feet shuffling back and forth, and I know I should say something.
Let me make it up to you for storming out. Let’s hang out again, without Katie this time. Let’s get back to exactly where we were before my best friend dropped the bomb that is her dazzling, confusing presence. Let me tell you the truth.
“Er, how’s Katie, by the way?” Jake asks.
“Oh,” I say, immediately losing my nerve. Maybe that hike up to the waterfall was nothing, and he routinely jumps in bodies of water fully clothed. Maybe every hand-graze, every stolen look, was imagined. Maybe it all meant nothing.
Only it wasn’t, I know that.
Maybe it’s just that, now that she’s here in front of him, he likes her more than me, simple as that. “She’s fine.”
Jake nods. “Well, I’m glad you’re good.” He stands there, hovering, as if he wants to say something else. “I should get going, though.”
“Sure, see you tomorrow,” I say.
He smiles. “See you tomorrow.”
As he walks away, I know in my heart that something has changed. I want to rewind, start everything over, but like the Dracula audition and my failed NYU application—like a lot of things—in real life you don’t get to do that.
Rewinding is only for movies, after all.
Katie picks me up that evening. As we make the drive back to my house, she details me on her day. She went on a long walk around my neighborhood and even discovered a nearby swimming hole, and spent the afternoon getting some sun. That’s Katie for you. Always finding a way to fit right in no matter where she is.