“Oh, Sam, you are the best, thank you.”
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Fine, I just got home from work and ran into Sam, he came to check on Vic, and Vic gave me a spare set of keys for emergencies.… I was stranded in the office all evening watching the storm. It was insane! I’ve never seen anything like it! Where were you?”
I can feel Sam looking at me and purposely don’t glance up or reply. Instead, I just keep stroking Vic’s hand. He stirs, his eyes opening slightly.
“Vic, it’s me, Angie, I’m here with Julia—”
“Uncle Vic!” Julia kneels down, clasping his other hand.
“Little Julia? And Sammy?”
“I’m right here, boss,” says Sam. “There’s an ambulance on the way.”
“That’s good news.” Vic smiles weakly. “Damn electricity.”
He closes his eyes and sighs deeply, his exhale coming out in shaky gasps.
“How did you know Vic was in danger, Sam?” asks Julia. “I mean, it’s nice to see you! I was just, um—”
“I’ve been working for Vic for weeks, remember?” says Sam. “Once I saw the floodwater, I wanted to check up on him.”
“Wow, that’s so good of you!”
A voice interrupts. “Are you okay? Oh, my God, Vic?” I look up, and there’s Pia standing with Coco and Madeleine.
“He’s fine, I think, we don’t know.…” I say. “Where have you guys been?”
“We just got back,” says Pia. “We were stuck in Manhattan.”
“I was with Ethan,” says Coco, sounding tearful. “Oh, gosh, poor Vic.”
The girls crouch down and start whispering to Vic, but my attention is on Julia and Sam. Something’s just not adding up.
“So, um, anyway, Sam?” says Julia. “Is your friend’s place damaged? It’s in Fort Greene, right?”
“It’s fine,” says Sam, checking his phone. “Have you checked the rest of Rookhaven?”
“A few broken windows, but that’s about it. So, uh, aside from biblical weather, how was the rest of your day? What have you been up to?”
I turn away. I can’t look at Sam, that lying scumbag, or see Julia treating him like he’s a friend, like she likes him.…
Wait a second.
I thought their date on Saturday night was a total bust. So why is Julia still sounding so happy and sort of, I don’t know, excited to talk to him? Does she still have a thing for him, after all that Sam said about the date being terrible? Well, I can put a stop to that.
“He’s not who you think he is,” I snap, looking up at Julia. “He’s not Sam Carter. He’s a liar.”
Julia looks at me, confused. “What do you—”
“He’s from New York, not Ohio. He’s not some poor college dropout, he graduated from Dartmouth and his family is loaded. And his name is Sam Rutherford.”
Julia looks from me to Sam a few times. “I don’t—”
“I tried to explain,” says Sam. “Carter is my mother’s maiden name, and—”
“Oh, my God,” says Julia, putting her hand to her mouth and backing away from Vic and Sam. “Rutherford.” She’s staring at me. At what I’m wearing. The Rutherford T-shirt that is obviously way too big for me. And she knows me well enough to know I’ve never worn sweatpants in my life.
Julia backs away. I follow her, unable to say anything, feeling a desperate sense of panic and shame.
“You’ve been with him—How could you—You knew how I felt—” Julia is staring at me in total shock, almost whispering. No one else can hear us.
“No, no, it’s not what it looks like, I mean, please, Jules, listen!” There’s a note of desperation in my voice I’ve never heard before. Then I say the three little words said by treacherous friends everywhere. “I can explain—”
At that moment, the ambulance arrives, and we’re distracted by paramedics running out to treat Vic. We try to comfort him as they load him on the stretcher.
“You’ll be fine, Vic, everything will be fine,” I say, covering his hand with both of my own.
“This is overkill,” Vic grumbles as they slip an oxygen mask over his head.
“I’m going with Vic.” Sam jumps in the ambulance, oblivious to the drama between Julia and me. “I’ll call his family on the way to the hospital.”
Seconds later, they’re gone.
Julia turns to me again, her face blank and pale, the words coming out slowly, as though every new thought gives her pain.
“You knew how I felt about Sam. You knew. But you’ve been with him for the past three days. That’s why you haven’t been home. That’s why I haven’t heard from him.… Oh, my God, I bet he left to meet you on Saturday night. He left the bar just after you, you must have texted him.”
“No, Julia, that’s not what happened. I—”
But she’s not listening. “You knew he was the first guy I’ve liked in so long, and you ruined it. Just to spite me. Of all the evil, bitchy, mean things to do—”
“No, that’s not true, Jules, I promise! It just, oh God, it just happened tonight, I thought I had feelings for him, but I don’t, he’s just a liar, and he told me your date was a total failure, he said that there was nothing between you, I thought you didn’t like him anymore, and—”
“And you didn’t even think to talk to me about it? I thought you were my friend!” Tears fill Julia’s eyes, and she turns and runs into the house.
I turn to Pia and Coco, trying not to sound hysterical. “What the fuck? Sam said nothing happened between them. Was that a lie, too?”
“They didn’t kiss or anything,” says Pia guardedly. “But…”
“She likes him, Angie.” Coco is distraught. “She’s liked him for weeks. How could you do this to her?”
And Coco runs up the stoop. I stare after her.
And the front door to Rookhaven slams shut.
Today I’ve been fired from the Gap, propositioned by a multimillionaire, found out my father’s getting remarried and starting a new family, run through New York in a rainstorm, fallen in love with the guy I thought was my best friend, discovered he was a liar, had my heart broken, survived a tornado, saved a man’s life, and accidentally betrayed one of my best friends.
But it’s the shocked disappointment of Coco, the sweetest person I’ve ever known, that truly destroys me. I want to collapse right here, into a tiny ball, and never get up again.
I am a bad person.
I sit down on the stoop, my hands shaking with cold and shame, my breath coming out in hiccup-y gasps. I am too overwhelmed to even cry. Pia sits down next to me and sighs, then puts her arm around my shoulders. Her unspoken loyalty to me right now, even though we’ve barely crossed paths in weeks, is the only good thing in my entire existence. I rest my head on her shoulder and she kisses my forehead, a motherly gesture that is so tender and loving, it actually makes me feel worse. I don’t deserve it.
Everything is fucked.
Then I remember.
“What time is it?” I ask Pia.
She looks at her phone. “Just past midnight.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Happy birthday.”
CHAPTER 37
“So, you’re really moving out?” I ask Pia at 7:00 the next morning.
She nods. “I think so. I mean … yes. I am. I want to be with Aidan. I’m going to talk to my boss today, ask if I can work from San Francisco; we have an office out there.… But I haven’t told the girls yet, so don’t say anything, okay?”
Pia and I are in the sunlit kitchen having coffee. Lots of it. I didn’t sleep last night. Not because of Sam, or my dad, or even the big black future-shaped hole in my life, but because when I close my eyes, all I can see is Julia looking at me like I’d just stabbed her in the heart.
Oh God, I feel so bad.
Guilt is different from heartbreak. Like heartbreak, guilt is inescapable, it’s pervasive, it takes over your every thought. But where heartbreak makes you ache with tears, guilt
just makes you, I don’t know, itchy inside with shame and regret. And it feels like it will never go away.
“I’m leaving, too,” I say. “I’m going to L.A. That whole Julia and Sam thing just gives me all the more reason to leave. I’ve totally fucked up everything here, you know? And I think I should start over. Today’s my twenty-third birthday, and it’s time I grew up.”
Pia nods. “I understand. L.A. isn’t that far from San Francisco. We can still meet up on weekends and stuff.”
“Come on. You and Aidan won’t be living in some couple-tastic dreamworld? Taking long weekends in Napa, going to Lake fucking Tahoe to waterski? Hiking? I’m pretty sure hiking is compulsory if you live in California.”
Pia grins and covers my hand with her hand. “Ladybitch, I promise you. I will never hike.”
“Doesn’t it scare you? Leaving everything you know to move in with a guy?” I ask.
“Scare me? No … I love Aidan. Love isn’t scary.”
Yes it is, I think, but don’t say aloud. Instead, my voice comes out in a tiny mumble. “But what if he changes his mind?”
“You think Aidan will change his mind?”
“No, no … I just mean, you know. Theoretically. This whole love thing … it can just go away, just like that. One minute you’re safe and happy, the next minute it’s over and you trusted someone you shouldn’t have.”
Pia stares at me, but I can’t meet her eyes. I feel quiet and cold inside.
“You can’t be scared of that,” Pia says softly. “You have to just … hope.”
Hope is for innocents and losers. I think of my mother, always hoping things would get better with my father, hoping he’d stop lying to her and come home.… How naive can you get? But then I think of Pia, who took so many huge risks last year, always hoping that the perfect combination of optimism, hard work, and luck would see her through. And it did.
Oh God, I don’t know. If I try to figure out the world by looking at people in my life, I just get more confused.
I take another sip of my coffee and glance over at Pia. “I’m going to miss you, ladybitch.”
“You are?”
“Of course I am,” I say. “I’m happy that you’re happy, of course, and Aidan is great and everything, but … I mean, I really missed you the last few months when you were hanging out with him all the time. Imagine how much I’ll miss you when you’re living in a whole other city.”
“You did?”
“You’re surprised?”
“It’s just that … you never act like you need me. You never act like you need anyone.”
I’m stunned. “Pia, you saved my life when I jumped out of a taxi on the Brooklyn Bridge. You saved my life every time you invited me on vacation with your parents, because mine were such fuckups, and I felt so safe with you guys.” I take a deep breath. “And you saved my life when you got me into Rookhaven. You just always save me. You’re like … my life preserver.”
Pia reaches out and gives me a huge hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“God, we are lame,” she says, tears in her eyes.
“I know,” I say, that familiar painful lump forming in my throat. I’ll probably never live with Pia again. And I didn’t even really make the most of it while I could. I just got drunk and did whatever I wanted and acted like I didn’t care about anything or anyone.
I’m such an asshat.
Pia seems lost in her own thoughts. “Sheesh, I don’t know. I should be happy I get to be with Aidan all the time once I move.… So why do I feel so depressed?”
“Birthday blues.”
“Yeah. I fucking hate birthday blues.”
It’s strange to have the same birthday as your best friend. Pia and I are so similar. We both act before we think, have a history of bad decisions with men, same silly sense of humor. But we’re so different, too. She’s a people person, a charming drama queen, a gung-ho-we-can-do-it type, a caring and loud and loyal friend. I’m a loner, I’m tougher, I’m more stubborn, I internalize everything, I’m dreamy and quiet.
And I’m clearly not a loyal friend.
I hate that about myself.
I haven’t seen Julia this morning. I think she went into work before I got up. Coco came into the kitchen briefly to pack her lunch, but wouldn’t even make eye contact with me, and Madeleine headed off for her morning jog half an hour ago without saying anything, either.
I guess I deserve it.
When I think about how everything in my life seemed complete and certain and perfect for just a few minutes last night, and how I was wrong again, and how everything about Sam—the guy I thought I loved!—was a huge lie, I feel a dry, empty sadness deep inside. My friendship with Sam didn’t ever truly exist. My heart aches so much, I can’t imagine ever feeling good again.
Then I think about how Julia looked at me when she found out I’d been with him, and Coco’s reaction, and I am overwhelmed with a tidal wave of guilt and regret. I betrayed my friend.
And that feels worse than heartache.
“I need to make it up to Julia,” I say to Pia. “I need to show her how sorry I am.”
Pia sighs. “Look ladybitch, it only just happened. She’ll get over it. Give her time.”
“But I’m leaving for L.A.! I don’t have time!”
“You did the crime, you do the time,” says a voice, and Madeleine walks in from her jog, pink with sweat and health and exercise and all those things I will never care about.
“Thanks for your support,” I snap. “I didn’t know she liked him that much. He said nothing happened. I didn’t know.”
My voice cracks, and I bury my head in my hands. Please, God, don’t let me cry in front of the girls.
“Oh, waaaaaah,” says Madeleine, stretching against the kitchen counter.
“Stop it, Maddy,” says Pia. “It’s not funny.”
“Sorry,” she says, and sits down at the table. “Angie, don’t cry, okay? I’m sorry.”
“You’re so goddamn bitchy all the time,” I say, trying hard to control my goddamn tears.
“I was just trying to be cute,” she says. “You always make snarky little comments like that.”
I look up. “I do? I don’t mean to. I’m not thinking about what I say to other people most of the time. I’m just sort of, I don’t know, trapped in my head.”
“Me too,” says Madeleine. “It’s a living hell.”
This statement is so dramatic and at odds with Madeleine’s usual understated manner that Pia starts laughing. I try to smile, but my face feels like it’s made of concrete. Heavy and gray.
“How is Vic?” asks Madeleine.
“Fine,” says Pia. “Julia texted me. He’s staying in the hospital for a few more days.”
“Oh, hey! Happy birthday!” says Madeleine. Pia and I both make “let’s not talk about it” headshakes. “Sheesh. Okay.” Then she turns to me and clears her throat. “Angie, um, I haven’t thanked you for what you did at the bar on Saturday night. For starting the dancing, when I was singing? I was so nervous, you know, and self-conscious, but once I saw you dancing, it was like … like I remembered how to enjoy myself.”
“You’re an amazing singer,” I say. “Really. You’re so talented. Plus, you know, I wanted to show off my amazing dancing skills. I mean, skillz. With a Z.”
“Actually, you’re a pretty terrible dancer.” Madeleine grins. “But a good person.”
And boom, tears rush to my eyes again. “I am not … I’m not a good person.” My voice is all shaky. “Everything I do is always wrong. I’m bad, I do the wrong thing, I’m a bad friend, I’m such a bad friend.…”
I hold my hands over my face, fighting back tears and regret and misery. Pia puts her arm around me, but this time, I pull away. I can’t bear to lean on her. I don’t deserve her support.
“Stop with the self-pity,” says Madeleine firmly. “Just fix the situation. It’s within your control to fix it. Apologize.”
�
�But what do I say?” My voice is croaky with misery. “I’m sorry I kissed that guy you like? This goes deeper than that for her. You know it does. This confirms everything bad she’s ever thought about me.”
“Just open your mouth and say how you feel,” says Pia.
I stare at the kitchen table so long that it starts swimming in front of my eyes.
“I feel like I need a grand gesture or something,” I say. “Like, I don’t know, I need to show up at Julia’s work with a balloon saying ‘I’m sorry.’”
“Hell no, don’t do that,” says Madeleine. “She works in an investment bank, that shit will get her killed.… Oh, my God, is that the time? I have to get to work!”
“So do I,” says Pia. “I want to stop in and see Vic at the hospital first, too.” She turns to me. “See you at home tonight, ladybitch? Maybe you should try to brainstorm some ideas about how to make up with Julia!”
“Brainstorming. For fuck’s sake. Such a corporate whore,” I say.
Pia winks and flicks me the bird. “Later, ladybitch.”
After the girls leave, I try to do just that. I sit at the table and try to make a list of ways to let Julia know I didn’t betray her, that I really do value her friendship so highly, that I’m sorry I hurt her.
But I can’t think of anything.
So instead, I make a list of things that I wish I could change about my life. In no particular order:
Not talking to my mother
Dad’s marriage and baby
Lack of career
Lack of money
No idea what to do with my life
Everything that happened on the yacht
Soho Grand night (??)
The fight with Sam
Hurting Julia
As far as I can see, it’s only in my control right now to change two of those things. The first. And the last.
So I pick up my phone and call my mother’s cell phone. She answers on the second ring.
“Angelique?”
“Hey, um, yeah, it’s me.”
“Oh honey! Happy birthday, darling! I was just about to call you, but I didn’t know if you’d—I mean, I am so happy to hear from you!”
I don’t know what to say.… What was it Pia told me? Just open your mouth and say how you feel.
Love and Chaos: A Brooklyn Girls Novel Page 23