BFF Breakup (mix)

by Taylor Morris

  “No,” I said, the girls’ eyes burning into me. “I should go home. I shouldn’t have come over. Dad and I are about to leave for Home Depot.” Home Depot? Where did that come from? “We’re picking out new faucets for our bathroom. Should be fun!”

  Since when did I start lying to my best friend? Oh, yes, I remember—when she started lying to me about not inviting me to her dumb sleepovers.

  “Oh,” Madeline said, and for a split second I thought she might argue with me. Like, No! Stay! We were just about to call you! Instead she said, “I’ll walk you out.” Like I needed a security escort to make sure I really left or something.

  At the door, Madeline said, in a low voice, “I’m really sorry. Susanna called at the last minute asking if they could come over here instead. I figured you already had plans by then.”

  It took a great effort of willpower not to say, Plans? Without you? Since when do we make plans without each other? Instead I was able to hold back, maybe because I felt sucker punched by the whole incident, start to finish.

  “You’re not mad, are you?” she asked. I gotta say, she actually looked concerned.

  “No,” I said.

  “Okay,” she said. “What did you end up doing last night?”

  “Went bowling with Abbey and a couple of her friends.” I didn’t want Madeline—my very own best friend—knowing I had spent a Friday night at home with my dad watching bad TV.

  “Oh, cool!” she said, almost like she was relieved. “That’s amazing Abbey let you.”

  I nodded. I needed to go. Immediately. I felt the prickling of tears coming up behind my eyes and I had to get out of there. “Well, I should go. Don’t want to keep Dad waiting.”

  “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Maybe later today you can come over?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll call you.” And I probably would have, if it weren’t for what happened next.

  “Talk to you later,” Madeline said, and then, from the kitchen Susanna’s voice rang out: “Bye, Brooke!” And then all three girls burst into laughter.

  Madeline called my name, but I was running, already halfway down the hill to the creek, refusing to look back.

  15 MADELINE

  OH, MAN. NOT GOOD. SO NOT GOOD.

  Could the timing have been any worse for Brooke to pop over? I started to kick myself for not inviting her like I said I would if we were sleeping at my house, but honestly, I did not want to know what a night with the girls plus Brooke would be like. She and Susanna probably would have ended up in a grisly Colosseum-style fight or something.

  I knew I needed to call and make it up to her even though I hadn’t technically done anything wrong. I put it off all afternoon. I knew Brooke would be mad and I wasn’t ready to have my best friend upset over something so small as a sleepover—with people she didn’t even like, I might add. So instead of calling her, I hunkered down in my room while Mom, just back from Chicago, snapped at Dad about the leaves covering the pool. Dad snapped back that if she wanted it cleaned, she could get out there and do it herself.

  Whenever they were both home, there was always a battle over something, and it was always something so stupid. Like whose responsibility it was to make sure there was toilet paper in the bathrooms, or the fact that Dad ordered spicy pepperoni pizza just because he knew Mom didn’t like it, or because Mom purposely stayed at work late to avoid her own family. That one always stung, and Dad accused her of it a lot.

  “You act like your job is so much more important than mine,” he’d said just that afternoon. “But for some reason, I can get my work done during regular business hours, without having to take time away from my family on nights or weekends.”

  “I think my job is a bit more high-pressured than yours,” Mom had said, with a definite ring of condescension in her tone.

  “Maybe you can sign up for some classes at the community college on time management,” he’d said, matching her tone. “You can learn how to get all that hard work done in an efficient manner.”

  “How dare you,” she’d snapped, and that’s when I decided to go back upstairs. I started to tiptoe so they wouldn’t hear me, but when I realized they never heard or noticed me or my brother—who stayed out of the house more and more, and because, lucky him, he had a car—I stomped up the stairs with extra force. I wanted to see if they’d hear me and stop fighting long enough to yell at me instead of each other. But they didn’t. Mom accused Dad of never supporting her, and Dad accused Mom of not supporting the family. It was a typical day in the Gottlieb household.

  Up in my room, I called Brooke. I knew she was mad and I understood why, but I also didn’t have the energy to appease her. I was tired. Tired from being up late last night, and tired of the constant stress of just being in my house. But Brooke was my best friend, and I didn’t want us fighting or being weird with each other anymore.

  “Hey,” I said when she answered the phone. “What’s up?”

  “Hey,” she said. “Nothing.”

  I snuggled under my goose down comforter. I felt like I could fall asleep right then and not wake up until Monday for school.

  “So,” I began, trying to gauge her mood. Was she mad? Were her feelings hurt? Was she indifferent? Grateful I hadn’t invited her over? “You should have stayed this morning for breakfast. The girls asked about you when you left.”

  “The girls did?” Brooke said.

  I guess catty was the word to describe how Brooke felt about the whole thing. She was not going to make this easy.

  “Brooke,” I said. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Like that. I’m sorry if things were awkward this morning.”

  “It wasn’t awkward,” she said, and I knew she was lying.

  “Be honest,” I said. “Would you have wanted to spend the night with Susanna and the girls?”

  “Who cares.” She let out a big sigh.

  “You don’t even like them,” I said, which was the truest thing either of us had said to the other in a long time.

  For a moment she didn’t say anything, but then she said, “True.”

  “See?”

  She sighed again. “I felt like an idiot this morning, going over there.”

  “Don’t,” I said. “The whole thing got so messed up anyway. Staying at my house was last minute, and I really didn’t think you’d want to come over anyway. I should have at least asked you, though.”

  “It’s no big deal,” she said.

  “How was Home Depot?”

  “Um, we didn’t end up going,” she said.

  “Oh,” I said. “So, do you want to come over? I think we’re going to order in for dinner.” I wasn’t sure that we were, but the cinnamon rolls we’d had that morning were basically the last things in the fridge.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I think we’re going out to dinner.”

  I couldn’t help but think that was a total lie—Brooke and her family rarely went out to dinner. Both her parents were such good cooks and besides, they thought it was a waste of money when they could relax in their own home with their own food. I’d heard her mom say it before.

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “It’ll be fun, and you can spend the night. We’ll see if we can successfully stay in my room all night and completely avoid my parents. It’ll be like a challenge.”

  “I could pack supplies and bring them over,” she finally said, her voice getting some life back, and I knew I was off the hook. “And I think I saw a big box of Hot Tamales in the cabinet.”

  “Perfect! Grab them before Abbey sees them.”

  “I’ll come over in like an hour, okay?”

  “See you then,” I said.

  Downstairs, it seemed the battle had ended. I walked into the living room and found Dad staring out at the backyard, his arms folded and his gaze unfocused.

  “Dad?” He cleared his throat, then turned to me and forced a smile. “Brooke is spending the night. Okay?”

&nbs
p; He patted my shoulder, keeping that smile on his face. It was a sad smile, which I didn’t think was possible, but there it was. I waited for him to say something, but he just turned and walked back to his study without a word.

  An hour later, Brooke showed up at the back door with her bag slung over her shoulder and the big, red box of Hot Tamales in her hand like an offering. As she came into the living room, she said, “Did you know it’s been proven that the best way to cool down your mouth from spicy food is to drink milk? Not water, milk.” She shook the box. “Got milk?”

  “Actually, we might not,” I said. “No one has been to the store in a while.”

  “That’s okay. The point of the Hot Tamale is, after all, to set the inside of your mouth on fire. Otherwise they’d be called Warm Tamales.”

  “Truly. Let’s start Operation Lockdown. If we go to my room now, we might be able to avoid all adults until tomorrow morning.”

  As we started toward the stairs, Mom came out of her bedroom looking stiff and ramrod, like she wanted another fight.

  “Oh. Brooke,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Miss Rachel,” Brooke said.

  Mom looked at me and said, “Normally we ask before we have company over.”

  I felt myself bubble with anger. Didn’t she have more important things to do than try to make my life miserable? Besides . . . company? Was she serious?

  “It’s not company,” I said. “It’s Brooke. And I told Dad.”

  “Told or asked?”

  “He didn’t say anything,” I said. I was really, truly starting to hate Mom. Why was she always starting fights like this? What was the point? Just to show us who was boss?

  She looked at Brooke and put this totally fake smile on. “I’m sorry, honey,” she told her. “But Madeline’s father and I need to talk to the children tonight. It needs to be family only. Madeline really should have checked with me first.”

  “I said I told Dad.” She acted like she was the sole authority in the house and Dad had no power.

  She ignored me and said to Brooke, “I’m really sorry. And tell your mother I need to place another order with her. Those hibiscus candles are amazing!”

  With that, she shot me a warning look and went back into her bedroom. Brooke and I stood there for a moment, stunned. I couldn’t believe I had just made last night up to her and now I had to send her home, Hot Tamales and all.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling on the verge of tears because my mother had been so cruel. Since when did she care when Brooke came over, or want to have a family night? “She’s been such a jerk lately.”

  “It’s okay,” Brooke said, but I could tell she was hurt. I didn’t blame her. “I hope everything’s okay, family talk and all.”

  “Who knows,” I sighed.

  “Call me if you need anything,” she said. “Okay?”

  As I watched her walk down the slope of my backyard, she looked so dejected, her bag dragging on the grass and the box of candy hanging limply in her hand. As she walked into the trees toward her house, I thought I saw her toss the Hot Tamales into the creek.

  It turned out Mom and Dad really did want to talk. Like, serious talk. They even made Josh cancel his plans to go get pizza with some girl from his calc class.

  Josh sat slumped on the couch, and folded his arms across his chest in what Mom would call the “typical sullen teenager” look. The faux-hawk of his dirty blond hair was looking kind of limp, and his shirt and jeans were nicely torn and food-stained. Actually, for Josh he looked like he was ready for Saturday night.

  “What do you think they want?” I asked, sitting next to him. Maybe Mom got promoted again and we were moving? I think she’d said the company headquarters were in Seattle. I briefly wondered if I’d like it there, or if Brooke’s family would let me move in with her until I graduated high school.

  “Man, Madeline, you can be so clueless,” Josh grunted, like he was doing me a huge favor by even acknowledging my presence.

  “What, like I’m supposed to know what this is about?”

  “I wish they’d just get it over with,” he said, looking toward the hallway. “I have plans tonight and I’m not canceling them.”

  When Mom and Dad finally came into the living room, Dad looked miserable, his eyes droopy and his mouth set tight. Mom stood straight and tall, her shoulders pulled back, and her face steely and set. Seeing them each like that gave me a sick feeling in my stomach. This definitely wasn’t about Seattle.

  “You both know we love you, and this isn’t anyone’s fault,” Mom said, and right then, right at that moment, I knew what was coming. “This has been a hard time for all of us, and it might be a bit harder for a while, but in the end, it’ll be for the best. Your father and I have decided to separate. I’ll be moving into a small apartment near work. . . .”

  A ringing began in my ears, distant at first, then louder until it was all I could hear. Mom’s mouth kept moving, Dad stood with his hands in his track pants’ pockets, and Josh leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and his head in his hands. I knew what was happening; I knew it before the words slipped out of Mom’s mouth but somehow it couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t believe it.

  “. . . can come see me anytime. Eventually I’ll move into a bigger place, and you’ll each have your own room. . . .”

  Obviously I knew it wasn’t normal how much they fought. Some part of me knew they weren’t happy, but people fight, just like Brooke and I had. They fight and then they get over it. I’m sure Brooke’s parents fought sometimes too; just not in front of anyone. But they had to fight sometimes. Right?

  “Our love for you hasn’t changed. We want you to know that your father and I are both here for you. . . .”

  I remembered what Susanna had said when I told her how much my parents fought. She told me that in a lot of ways things did get better once her parents split up. “Now the only time they fight is over the phone, when one of them thinks they’re not getting enough time with us or something. But it beats the in-person fights. By far.”

  I thought I hated their fighting more than anything, but suddenly I realized that fighting was better than divorcing. Mom, moving out? How was that possible? And wasn’t the dad supposed to be the one to leave? I wanted to ask, but tears were now rolling down my cheeks, and I couldn’t bring myself to form the words anyway. Maybe I didn’t want to know the answer. (Because she loved her job more than us?)

  “Can I go now?” Josh asked. Mom nodded, and when Josh stood up she gave him a big hug but his arms stayed limp by his sides. Dad squeezed his shoulder, and Josh shrugged him off.

  Mom sat down next to me and put her arm around me. She pulled me tight and I started crying more. I fell into her chest and bawled like a big baby. Then Dad was on the other side of me, rubbing my back and saying, “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” It only made me cry harder. This feeling of having both my parents on either side of me, I realized, was probably the last time I’d ever have them together. I sobbed until my eyes hurt, and, in a moment, I wanted to get away from both of them. I let go of Mom, stood up, and told them I was going to my room. I told Mom; I didn’t ask for her permission. When I got there, I slammed the door shut, and no one said a thing.

  I took my cell phone into my closet, shut the door, and kept the light off. I called Susanna. “It’s happened,” I said. “It finally happened. They’re getting a divorce.”

  “Oh my god, Mad, I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s awful, I know, but I’m here if you need anything. Did your dad move out?” When I told her Mom was going instead, she said, “Wow. That’s different.”

  “I feel so dumb,” I sniffled. “It’s like I knew it was coming but thought that maybe it wouldn’t. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I just can’t imagine not living with both of them. And visiting Mom, in some apartment? She said I’d have my own room but I already have a room. It’s like they don’t get it. They’re only thinking about themsel
ves.”

  “I know it sounds dumb to say,” Susanna said, “but you’ll get used to it. And in some ways having only one parent in the house is kind of cool. Not as much red tape to go through when you want to do something, you know?” That made me smile, and I knew I was lucky to have someone who understood firsthand.

  An hour later I emerged from my closet feeling slightly better. I was as exhausted as I’d ever been in my entire life. All I wanted to do was go to sleep, so I crawled into bed and did just that, even though it was only 8:00 on a Saturday night.

  The next day I mostly stayed in my room. Mom was at the office (or maybe apartment hunting?), Josh was with his friends, and Dad was locked up in the study. It wasn’t until that evening that I sent Brooke an IM about what was happening. Going through it and then telling Susanna about it had totally drained me. I didn’t feel like talking about it anymore.

  Horrible night. Parents divorcing. Life sucks.

  I logged off before she had a chance to respond, and crawled into bed.

  16 BROOKE

  MY STOMACH DROPPED WHEN I SAW Madeline’s IM. I immediately called her cell even though it was after 9:00 and I wasn’t supposed to use the phone past 8:00. She didn’t answer, and I wondered what was happening right then at her house. I wished that I could go over there to be with her.

  “It’s me,” I said into her voice mail. “I can’t believe that about your parents. I’m so sorry, Mads. I’m here, at home, if you want to call or come over, or we can meet at the creek for a while if you can get out of the house. If not, I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Okay. You’ll be fine! Hang in there!”

  I probably sounded like an idiot, but I didn’t know what to say. Her parents did fight a lot. I’m sure it was a total joy living there when they were going at it. My parents might have been lame to the point of boring but at least they didn’t scream at each other in front of me and Abbey.