by Kylie Walker
Her words felt like a slap across my cheeks. I couldn’t rationalize it. When had Emery and Chris ever been alone together, without me?
“I’m sorry. What?” I replied. I felt as if I were falling down a long, horrible cavern, wishing I could just crash at the bottom—breaking all my bones in the process.
“It had nothing to do with you,” Emery continued.
“How could it not be about me?” I asked her, gasping.
“It was just an attraction we couldn’t avoid. We couldn’t continue knowing each other without, you know, trying it.”
“Trying it? Are you fucking serious!” I yelled. I sat there starring at my best friend in disbelief. The one friend I could always count on, but now she meant nothing to me. Scum was the first word that came to my thoughts.
“We just, you know, went for it. And then, it happened again and again.”
“Where?” I demanded.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” she asked, shrugging. “I mean, it’s not like we did it in your bed or anything.”
“You did it in my bed,” I said raising my voice again. I lurched up from my seat. “You fucked my boyfriend, Emery. What about that isn’t alarming to you? What about that makes you so fucking casual?”
I felt the tears slip down my cheeks, boiling down my skin and toward my bright pink dress below. Why had I dressed so sultry—with my breasts nearly hanging out of the push-up demi-cup bra I’d recently purchased? In the back of my mind, I’d imagined Emery and I flirting with men at the bar, becoming ‘single friends’ again and finding new ways to plot the course of our 20s, together.
“I mean, Chris really misses you. So it’s not like what happened between us was all that important to him,” she muttered then, shrugging. “When you dumped him, he told me we had to stop. So we have.”
“Oh, my God. You’re in love with him,” I whispered, my heart banging against my ribcage.
“No. I mean, I don’t think so,” Emery stammered. Her eyes glinted up toward mine, almost begging for some forgiveness from me. “When you met Chris, I was jealous, Quinn. You’re so fucking pretty. Blonde, big boobs. All the guys look at you when you walk past them. But Chris and I, we’re better suited for one another. We connect, you know?”
My eyes slammed shut at her words, and I shook my head as I tried to process what she had just said. When I finally looked at her, I growled, “No, I don’t know you fucking bitch!” Taking a step back all I could see were images of the three of us together; celebrating graduation, buying furniture for Chris and I’s apartment. I had been such a fool.
With a spin, I turned from the table and walked from the bar, trying to center my brain. As I walked, I nearly slammed into the server, who was delivering drinks to a separate table. The drinks shifted left, then right on her tray, looking ominous. I scrambled back, my hands flashing left and right.
“I’m so sorry,” I said and bolted from the bar. I found my car in the parking lot and collapsed into it, crying out and stabbing my fists against the steering wheel, feeling the anger and resentment rise within me. This was the world I’d cultivated, grown in for the past four and a half years. And now, it was crumbling around me.
After taking the wheel, I drove as slow as I could back to the apartment I’d shared with Chris. After pouring myself a full glass of wine, I swept through the job ads of surrounding universities, knowing I couldn’t go back to the lab Emery worked at. When the job popped up for the one at North Carolina State University—a lab that associated itself with sleep studies, I applied almost immediately. Tossing my resume into the wind, I felt free, yet aching with fear. I’d never taken a step forward without my best friend beside me. I’d never made a move without Chris. And now—I had to lean entirely on myself. Alone, in a world that was already working it’s hardest to chew me up and spit me out.
Chapter 3
Tyler
I dropped Rachel off on the morning of my first trip to San Francisco, feeling my heart dip into the acid of my stomach with regret. Marnie was standing on the front porch, her rotund belly flipping out over her belt and her dyed red hair flapping in the wind. I carried Rachel’s bag for her, leading her toward the door and giving Marnie a firm nod.
“Hey there,” I said.
Rachel ducked into a hug, and then raced into the house, finding solace in her upstairs bedroom. Through the crack in the door, I could see Marnie’s new husband, Greg, slopped in his armchair, eating breakfast tarts. Crumbs covered his shirt.
“I’ll be back in about five days,” I told Marnie, my eyes flashing. “And I’ll pick her up that day from school. Can you make sure you’re always home at around three-thirty when she gets back from school?”
“You think I’m some monster? That I can’t be home for my daughter?” Marnie asked. Inside, the television continued to blare a court room reality show, causing my head to begin to ache.
“Just don’t make any plans without thinking of her first, will you?”
Darting back into my truck, I gave Marnie a final, firm look, watching as Rachel’s tiny face poked out of her upstairs window, like a mouse looking from a hole. I waved to her, feeling my heart hammer. Just a few extra days at her mothers wouldn’t destroy her, would it? Would she begin acting like her, taking on her selfish qualities, speaking to me abruptly, with the air of an overweight heiress?
I couldn’t think of it.
“You’ve given her so much. It’s time to take some space for yourself,” my sister had told me, via video chat the previous evening. She lived with her husband and kids in Orlando and didn’t visit often, but she had spent the weeks after the divorce with Rachel and I, shielding the drama from Marnie, and coaching me as best as she could. “She cheated on you. She broke up your family. You can’t blame yourself for this.”
The plane out to San Francisco had a single layover in Denver. I ate half of a burrito at a strange airport shack, guzzling a Mexican light beer and then allowing myself a brief nap on the last stretch. My notes for the first days of meetings were highlighted, underlined, and near-memorized. But in these hours, my brain found no other topic than that of my daughter.
Samantha greeted me at the airport, picking me up in a silver Prius and driving me into the heart of the Mission—where the offices were. I’d never been to San Francisco, had hardly been west of the Mississippi, and found a brief moment of reprieve in the beauty of the city. The streetcars darted up and down the hills, jangling their bells, and the Golden Gate Bridge stretched into a foggy future. Samantha gabbed happily, flirtatiously, telling me she couldn’t wait to show me the sights, the bars and anything else that might come along.
“You have an entire day of meetings lined up,” she said. “I hope you’re ready. You thought you had it rough back in Raleigh, but this is where the fun begins.”
The day stretched before me, without a moment of rest. I darted from meeting to meeting, with Hank, Carlos, Roger, and Monica by my side. Samantha brought up the rear, with her notebook in-hand, her eyebrows low over her eyes with intense concentration. We met with potential investors, with start-up makers and with bright-eyed and bespectacled individuals, just hoping to make it in the tech scene. Some had flown in from out east, hoping to find an investment with our company, and would be working with me closely if chosen. Eager to do my best, I found myself asking question after question, demanding that they take stock of their creation, of their resources, of their skills before even asking for our money. I felt Hank and Carlos’ eyes on me—assessing the strength within me, the leadership qualities, and felt their approval.
“I think you deserve a beer or two,” Hank said, thrusting his hand on my shoulder as we left for the day.
Eyeing my phone, I realized it was already seven at night—which meant that Rachel was already in bed. I’d missed her. With a firm nod, I followed Hank to one of the several bars, keeping myself even-keeled as the others dove deeper into drunkenness. Sitting back, eyeing them intently
, I was ready with a wink or a smile when they needed my approval. I would give them no more of myself.
I couldn’t get attached to this world.
The next day was similar. Hours of meetings and earnest talks and it left me tired and strung-out by the end of the day. It was only five, at this point, meaning I could race back to the hotel and video chat with Rachel. As I left the office, Samantha burst between me and the door, pushing her breasts high on her chest, arching her back.
With a soft smile, she asked, “Why don’t the two of us head out to grab a drink tonight? You know, it’s kind of a tradition for HR to do a bit of the ‘showing around’ business. I consider it my civic duty.”
Caught off-guard, I began to stammer. I sensed her attraction for me, and I could feel it simmering in the air. But I shook my head, feeling somber and dry. I had nothing to offer this woman. “I really should head back.”
My heart raced as I returned to my hotel room, waiting for a text from Rachel. When it came—affirming she could video chat, only for a bit, I opened my video chat and placed the call across the country. Rachel’s small, mouse-like face appeared, making me overjoyed.
“Hey, baby!” I cried out. “How are you doing?”
“Ugh,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. They were bright, dramatic, hunting for my approval. “Just loads of homework, Daddy. You wouldn’t believe it. It’s like I’m in high school or something.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I said, smiling. “Is any of it too tricky?”
“Well, I asked Mom for a little bit of help on the math problems, but she says she’s too busy,” Rachel said, shrugging.
Immediately, I felt my heart drop. “I’m sorry. Too busy?” I asked, my eyebrows drawn together. “What is she doing to be so busy?”
“Well, she said she had to clean Greg’s car. And then shop for groceries or something. I don’t know,” Rachel said, shrugging. As she opened her mouth wider, I caught sight of the gap between her teeth—the lost one, that had come loose at the nearby breakfast place that sold the custard-filled pancakes. We’d tied it up in a napkin, saving it for the tooth fairy. She said she didn’t believe. But she played along, for my sake.
“Can you get your mother?” I asked. My anger rose, causing my cheeks to blister red. “Just for a minute.”
I heard Rachel cry out, her voice falling down the steps, hunting for Marnie. Marnie’s gruff steps resounded through the house. Inwardly, I told myself to calm the fuck down. That it wasn’t important and that the world would continue to spin.
“Tyler?” Marnie said, ripping the phone from Rachel’s grasp. “I don’t have long.”
“Sure you do,” I responded in a gruff voice. “You have plenty of time to help your daughter with her homework. What is it? You’ve got some kind of schedule, now?”
Marnie’s nostrils flared. “Those are rough words coming from someone who actively took a position across the country from your daughter,” she retorted.
I could sense Rachel somewhere behind her and could hear her frenzied breath. But I couldn’t stop my tongue from drawing more insults.
“I’m doing the best I can for our family. I don’t suppose you know what that means, do you? Or did you not think about that before you started messing around with Mike from the flower shop?”
Enraged, Marnie snapped her finger over the END button, halting the video chat. I stared at the blank screen, wishing I had just shut up. Wishing I’d allowed a few more moments of solace with my daughter. But putting her in the care of Marnie was all-but destroying me, mentally. I sensed she wasn’t being taken care of. Her mother and Greg lived blindly, beer-to-beer, while Rachel skimmed science books and took on loneliness and quirkiness, without feeling loved. Jesus, that woman was going to be the death of me.
I looked outside my window as San Francisco crept by and the sun disappeared beneath the water. Down below, so many people were marching the streets, their eyes bright toward a future of their making. They didn’t have the baggage I did. They didn’t have a care in the world.
Chapter 4
Quinn
Despite being only a few hours away, I hadn’t been to Raleigh in years—choosing instead to remain in the quirky mountain town of my college roots. The drive to Raleigh was soothing, allowing me several hours to myself, listening to soft music on the radio and finding new ways to tell myself that everything was going to be okay.
It had to be.
Emery and I hadn’t spoken since that day at the bar. I still felt her words, echoing in my mind. She’d slept with my boyfriend, the man I’d thought I’d be married to in a year’s time. And she’d done it without batting a damn eye lash and without apology. Bitch!
Since then, I’d hardly been able to spend time in my apartment. I felt their presence in every nook and cranny. I imagined him bringing her there when I wasn’t around, kissing her on the couch we’d picked for its soft cushions, pouring her wine into the glasses my mother had given us for a move-in present.
Of course, I had heard from Chris, quite a few times. His messages were staggered and drunken, showing his regret. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I fucked up. Please. Forgive me.”
I couldn’t forgive him though. It was time to move on.
North Carolina State University had called me for an interview the week before. The lab was tucked in the heart of the university campus, beneath a gorgeous line of elm trees and down a steep set of whitewashed stairs. Blinking into the darkness of the underground, I found myself peering at the lab leader, a man named Everett, who shook my hand and said, “Quinn? What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. I’ve been going through your college transcripts this week and have to say—I’m very impressed.”
Everett led me into a side office area, far from the actual experiments, and asked me to sit across from him. A tiny window in the top right corner showed spurts of green grass, the only assurance that the outside world still existed.
Everett flipped open his folder, grinning beneath white-rimmed glasses. Leaning forward, he began the interview, “So. Quinn. Tell me. What attracts you so much to our establishment, here at North Carolina State? And what interests you in sleep study?”
My brain rallied between, ‘this place is far enough away from my scheming ex-boyfriend and best friend, for one,’ but I quickly tucked those thoughts away.
I finally formed answers, one by one, to his questions. I sensed his assurance that I was the right one for the job, from question two. And by the end of the hour, he was telling me his secretary would send me a contract in the coming hours, and that I should look into moving here as soon as I could.
“We’ll probably start you in the next week or two when classes begin,” he said, bringing his hands together and rubbing them together, excitement fueling him. “And until then, good luck with your move!”
It’s strange when you make a big decision in your life, one that rips you from all you’ve ever known. You make the motions of your normal life, but your muscles feel strange as if you’ve never used them in this manner before. As I drove away from the office, I felt my arms guide me through the streets of Raleigh, past gorgeous homes, with ancient trees growing from sturdy roots; beside the swimming pool, which echoed with the screams of one hundred kids, all of them celebrating the hours after school. Guiding my car through another neighborhood, I paused in front of a one-story home, tiny enough for a single person, with a large tree out front. The house had a ‘FOR SALE’ sign out front, with large, empty windows, void of curtains.
Next door, I spotted a truck in the front, sturdy, a bit rusted from use, with a tiny pink hat on the front dashboard. My heart swelled with the memory of my own father, driving me to and from tennis practice, laughing as I wore my mother’s sunglasses and gabbed to him about my obsession with all things science, about how I wanted a dog more than I ever wanted a boyfriend.
Whoever lived next door—a family, a father—offered a glim
pse into another life I’d once led. Before people I’d trusted had betrayed me; before I’d been faced to find another world.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was writing the phone number of the realtor on my fast food napkin. I would head back to Raleigh as soon as they asked me, just to check out the house.
The realtor was a gorgeous woman named Sandra, with fake nails and a tendency to incorrectly and overuse the word ‘literally.’ She led me through the empty house, explaining that the home had belonged to a man who had to move to Alaska for ‘business reasons,’ which I couldn’t imagine. As I eased my fingers across the barren fireplace, imagining a life for myself there, she mentioned—dryly, that her black lab had a bunch of puppies she needed to get rid of.
“I don’t suppose you know anyone looking for a dog?” she asked me. “Because they’re destroying everything in the house. Shredding the pillows. I mean, the kids love them. But they’re eight weeks, now, and it’s just time, you know?” Her fingers looked itchy as if she wanted a smoke. Bits of black fur covered her pink skirt, a reminder of the mess at her home.
Tilting my head, an idea began to transform in my mind. As a smile stretched across my face, the sun flashed in through the open window. I couldn’t replace the life I’d led with Chris. But I could make it something different. Something brighter.
“Could I meet them first?”
The black lab pup, which I named Randy—after an old cartoon I’d watched with my dad as a kid—made the trip back to Asheville with me to prepare for the big move. The pup scrambled around the car, nibbling at the edges of the seats and panting up at me. I swatted at him as I drove, giggling at the manic way he chased after my hand.
I could already tell I would love him forever.
The packing took only a few days. I used boxes from the lab, ducking in to steal them when Emery wasn’t there, and then filling them with my things. They were mostly books, but also my bug collection, my science writings and of course my diploma. I hired a moving van, just to bring over the big things like the couch and bed. Things I couldn’t replace, yet, that I hoped wouldn’t reek of the memory of Chris when they were positioned in another home.