So Over It

by Stephanie Morrill

“Okay. It’d been about a year since we had a conversation without either of us being . . . What’s the word?”

  “Snarky?”

  “Sure, yeah. We talked through some stuff that needed to be talked out. I don’t know if we’ll ever be friends exactly, but it was nice to get everything on the table.” Or almost everything.

  Amy nodded, her eyes still on the game. When she started clapping, I did too. I didn’t know what had happened, but Connor crossed home plate.

  “God doesn’t call us to be friends with everyone,” Amy said. “Of course it’d be nice if you and Jodi could be friends again, but I’m very happy to hear you’re at peace with each other.” She always articulated things so much better than me. No fair.

  “Peace is a good way to put it,” I said. “I don’t feel angry with her. Maybe if we met each other for the first time today, we could be friends, but too much has happened between us.

  She knows way too many embarrassing things about me.”

  Amy gave me a closed-mouth smile, as if amused. “Sometimes those are the best people to have as friends. They understand you in ways others don’t because they lived with you through those hard, weird, and embarrassing times.”

  I sighed. “You totally should’ve had a daughter. You’re really good at this stuff.”

  Now her smile faltered. “I’d have liked a daughter.”

  Amy had never before said it so plainly, but we’d had enough conversations that I could have guessed it. Why’d I have to say something so dumb? “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t. I know how you meant it.” She took a deep breath. “And you’ve been around our family long enough that it’s probably time I told you.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Great. I’d apparently rammed my foot further in my mouth than I’d originally thought.

  “I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us, though.”

  I nodded. “But Amy, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.” If anyone understood wanting secrecy, I did.

  “I don’t mind.” Amy’s face took on a determined expression. “Brian and I lost a baby between Chris and Cameron. A little girl. Abigail. When I went in at twenty weeks for a sonogram, I assumed they’d tell me she looked good and healthy, same as they’d done with Connor and Chris.” Amy took a wobbly breath. “But instead the technician poked around for a long time, and then she called in my doctor. He said it looked like our baby had a chromosomal abnormality, trisomy 18, but they’d need to do an amnio to be sure. When the results came back positive, he said if she made it to full-term, the chances of seeing her first birthday were less than 10 percent, and we should decide if we wanted to continue the pregnancy.”

  I swallowed and tried to think of something noncliché to say to Amy. When she’d regained control of her vocal cords, I still hadn’t come up with anything.

  “Connor and Chris had both been such easy, by-the-book pregnancies. I just sat there and stared at the doctor, thinking this couldn’t be happening. And Brian, sweet, dear Brian, said we needed to go home and talk it over. I looked that doctor in the eye and told him nobody was coming near my baby. Of course, it’s not that Brian wanted to abort the baby, but he worried she’d cause health problems for me. The guilt of aborting her would’ve killed me.”

  Amy took another breath. “I had a couple more months with her. Terrifying months. All I wanted to eat was pancakes. I dreamt at night about pancakes, but I forced myself to eat healthy stuff. Lots of salad and chicken and whole grains. As if somehow I could . . .”

  She bit her trembling lower lip and I reached for her hand. When she gripped mine, she squeezed my fingers so hard it brought back memories of Abbie laboring with Owen.

  “Around thirty weeks, Abigail stopped moving. They couldn’t find a heartbeat, and I knew even before they induced labor that we’d lost her. She was so tiny, barely two pounds. Brian and I held her and cried, and then hours later when my parents brought Connor and Chris to visit, we held them and cried. Chris was two and didn’t understand much of what was going on, but Connor . . .” Amy’s fingers danced along her neck. “He was devastated. He hugged me so tight, sobbing that he was sorry, as if he’d done something wrong.”

  She wiped away tears and took a deep breath. “Sometimes Brian and I talk about Abigail, but not often. On her birthday every year, we go out for pancakes. The older boys understand why, and Cameron’s starting to piece it together, but mostly he and Curtis know it’s a rough day for Mommy and pancakes help me feel better.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I said. Sorry I’d dredged it up, that I’d made Amy feel bad. “I think you’re really brave to talk about it.”

  Amy laughed a little, still raspy with emotion. “I don’t know if brave is the right word.”

  “It takes a lot to share a piece of yourself like that.” I swallowed back tears of my own. “You’re brave.”

  Amy considered this. “I never like talking about Abigail, but over the years I’ve gotten more comfortable with it. It helps that it’s such a popular name. I’ve gotten used to having lots of Abigails around me.” She gave a sad smile. “It makes it extra special having you and your sister around so much.” She sighed. “I still always lose it when I think of Connor at the hospital.” She smiled at him in the outfield. “He’s always had such a tender heart.”

  “How long was it?” I asked. “Before talking about it got easier, I mean.”

  Amy frowned as she thought. “You know, it’s never gotten ‘easy,’ but the first time was by far the worst. Abigail and her little life had been cramped in my brain all those months as I stubbornly tried to figure things out for myself.” Amy shrugged. “I don’t think I really started to heal until I forced myself to talk about it, to share the details. I hate to think of what might have happened, of the stunted person I might have become, if I hadn’t opened up.”

  “Your mom told me about Abigail tonight.”

  Connor looked up from his turtle sundae. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I stuck my foot in my mouth by saying she should’ve had a daughter, and then she told me.”

  He scooped his cherry into my cup. “That’s a really big deal. You should feel honored.”

  “Do you remember much of what happened?”

  “Not really. I was only four, so . . .” Connor shrugged. “I wish I remembered better. It’s this really huge thing that happened in our family, and I feel a little guilty for not feeling affected.”

  “Like you said, you were four. The only thing I remember from that age was when Abbie and I were taking a bath together and she mistook the bathtub for a toilet.”

  Connor made a face. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Tell me about it.” I stirred the soupy remains of my custard. “I kinda wish you’d told me about Abigail. I felt really stupid bringing up something so painful for your mom.”

  “It’s not mine to tell.”

  I turned that statement over in my mind, along with Amy’s words of wisdom. Was it stunting me, not talking about Aaron? Was I hindering God from working in my life? I didn’t want that. I wanted to be over this.

  “I think I’m ready to talk. About what happened at Jodi’s.” I swallowed. I didn’t want him to make a big deal out of it. I just wanted to lay out the events of that night as I remembered and let the healing begin.

  Connor turned to me as casually as if I’d said we should see a movie later. “Go ahead.”

  23

  On July 14, a year ago yesterday, my friends and I showed up for Jodi’s party fashionably late. Alexis had wanted to come earlier. She cared much more about being there for every gossip-soaked second than she did about making an entrance.

  When she spotted us, Jodi charged in from the kitchen. “Where have you guys been?” She talked way too loud, clearly several drinks ahead of us.

  “Have we missed anything?” Alexis asked.

  Jodi rolled her eyes. “No. I swear this’ll be the last party I throw. It sucks having
to be here from the beginning.” Her eyes accused me. “You said you’d be here an hour ago.”

  I shrugged. “I thought we’d leave the Plaza earlier.”

  “They practically kicked us out,” Lisa said. “The store clerks were irritated. You could totally tell.”

  I accepted the cigarette Eli offered me, ignoring how he’d unnecessarily brushed his fingertips against my wrist. “The sign says they’re open till nine. Why should I rush out of there? Hello, it’s their job.”

  Now Eli’s fingertips grazed my lower back. “Absolutely.” “I need a drink.” I wove through the crowded room, escaping him.

  “So you left at nine,” Jodi said as she walked next to me. “What’ve you been doing for the last hour?”

  “Getting ready.” Did she think I’d dressed like this for an afternoon of shopping?

  She leaned against the kitchen counter as I grabbed myself a red plastic cup. “So, Danny’s here.”

  I didn’t have to look to know she’d rolled her eyes. “Yeah?”

  “He’s being all sulky and annoying. I wish he’d just leave.” She refreshed her beer as I sipped mine. “Him being all pathetic is making me look pathetic for dating him so long.”

  Though if he’d acted normal, she’d have been miffed about that as well.

  “Well, you can’t blame him,” I said. “You are pretty fabulous.” “Who’s fabulous?” Eli leaned close as he filled his cup. “Jodi.”

  “Of course she is.” He winked at her. “Dated me, right?” Jodi rolled her eyes again, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  Through the breakfast bar and sea of people, I spotted Lisa waving me over. I left Jodi and Eli to their conversation and maneuvered my way to Lisa. She leaned against an ugly but very expensive sage wingback chair. John’s arms circled her waist, but he was turned away from us, talking to some guy I didn’t recognize.

  “Guess who’s here!” Lisa yelled over the thumping bass. I followed her line of vision and saw him, the guy we’d dubbed TDH—Tall, Dark, and Hot. We’d gone to a handful of parties since the summer started and seen him at most. He’d seen me—I knew he had—but TDH had yet to make a move. Maybe tonight would be the night.

  He caught my eye then, and I held his gaze for a second. Tonight his six-plus feet of yummy boyness was clad in cargo shorts and a black graphic print tee meant to look like he’d had it forever.

  I turned back to Lisa and shrugged. “He may be cute”—hello, understatement—“but I still refuse to talk to him.”

  “This is why you don’t have a boyfriend. A modern girl’s got to be willing to make the first move.”

  “I’m old-fashioned,” I said wryly.

  Lisa looked back at TDH. “He’s totally into you. Can’t you offer him a friendly smile so he knows it’s cool to come talk to you? Sometimes guys need a little encouragement.”

  John had dropped out of his conversation halfway through Lisa’s statement. “Who are we talking about?”

  “That guy by the stereo.”

  “Which guy by the stereo? There’s about a billion guys by the stereo.”

  “The one with dark hair and skin—”

  “About half of them have dark hair and skin.”

  “The really cute one—”

  “The really cute one?” John asked, and Lisa winced at her mistake. John didn’t have a jealous streak—he had a jealous mile.

  “Skylar thinks he’s cute,” Lisa said.

  I doubted this specification would fix anything, but John turned to me. “What about Eli?”

  “What about Eli?”

  “You’re toying with my boy’s heart. You realize that, right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please.” But that guilty burn started in my stomach, the one that sometimes kept me awake at night because I knew I’d been leading Eli on.

  “He knows our situation.” I tipped back my cup, hoping to chase away my conscience. “Jodi’d kill me.”

  Lisa snorted. “She’d do worse. She’d make your life so miserable, you’d wish she had killed you. I can only imagine how your hair would look short. And speaking of which . . .” Lisa nodded at Sarah Humphrey, who lurked around Mrs. Starr’s china cabinet. “What’s she doing here?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “She probably thinks Jodi and Danny are still together and she’s here to do some damage.”

  “She’s got a boyfriend. Actually, she hangs with Mr. TDH himself.”

  “Skylar!”

  I turned toward Jodi, who’d yelled my name from the kitchen.

  “Change the song, would ya? I hate this song.” Now she looked at Danny, and I vaguely remembered this being “their song.” Danny didn’t react, just returned to his game of quarters.

  I normally wouldn’t have involved myself in one of Jodi’s post-breakup spats, but it gave me a handy excuse to walk by TDH. I kept my gaze fixed on the stereo beyond him, but I could feel him watching me.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice clear and smooth.

  I tapped skip, then glanced at him. “Hi.”

  “Masterful,” Lisa said as I returned to her and John. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”

  “I don’t like you watching him so much,” John grumbled.

  Lisa glared at him. “Like you don’t help Eli with girls when the two of you are out.”

  “Eli doesn’t chase girls anymore.” He slanted me a glare. “Wanna guess why?”

  I shrugged and drained the contents of my cup. “Not my problem.” And after the next beer I downed, hopefully I’d feel as careless as I sounded.

  “You want another?” Lisa said. “I’m gonna go get one.”

  I handed her my cup. “Yeah, sure.”

  John waited until she’d left to say to me, “Skylar, I’m being serious about Eli. He’s got it bad for you. You need to either cut him loose or give him a chance.” He seemed to hesitate before adding, “And I’m saying that for your own good.”

  I glanced toward the breakfast bar, but Eli had moved. He now stood in the eat-in kitchen, chatting with some blonde chick who’d blocked him in and appeared to be talking incessantly. He looked past her and smiled at me. I frowned at John. “What do you mean, for my own good?”

  “You know how he is. You’ve seen his temper.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but got interrupted by Jodi’s and Alexis’s squeals as they pounced on the couch and danced wildly.

  “Come on, Skylar!” Jodi said.

  She sounded drunk, drunk, drunk. And I’d have to be as well to get up there.

  I pulled a cigarette from the pack in my back pocket. “There’s no way,” I said to John.

  He grinned, watching my crazy, stupid friends. “I don’t know. You’d definitely get what’s-his-face’s attention.”

  “You think so?” I turned and saw TDH still watching me. “I don’t know. I think he’s got a thing for Lisa.”

  John frowned and scanned the crowd. “Where’d she go, anyway?” He walked off toward the kitchen without another word to me.

  I bit back a smile and watched Jodi’s long blonde hair fly through the air. Man, she’d wake up with a headache.

  “You know, I’ve been watching you the last couple weeks.”

  I turned to see him standing where John had been. If possible, he looked even better up close.

  I exhaled cigarette smoke. “Oh, yeah?”

  “You’re friends with those girls, right?” He indicated Alexis and Jodi with his drink.

  “Yeah.”

  “Weird. You seem so much older than them.” He took a sip and studied me. “There’s definitely something different about you.”

  I hoped I hid my smile better than Jodi had earlier in the kitchen with Eli. “Maybe,” I said with a shrug.

  “You know what else I’ve noticed?” He leaned closer. “Wherever you are, he is too.”

  I looked in the direction he nodded. The blonde girl still had Eli trapped. He bobbed his head politely as she prattled on and on. And on. When he not
iced Aaron and me, he frowned.

  “He’s a friend of mine,” I said.

  “Hmm. So I’m not gonna step on any toes if I get you a drink?”

  I shook my head. I wanted to look away from him, to not look too enthralled, but I couldn’t lower my gaze.

  “Be right back,” he said.

  “Wow,” Jodi breathed in my ear, her dancing routine apparently over. “How gorgeous is he?”

  We watched him walk into the kitchen. From our post at the ugly sage chair, we could see only from his shoulders down. Stupid cabinets.

  “What’s his name?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Of course, he could be named Archibald Frederick the Third and I wouldn’t complain.”

  I smiled, then glanced at Eli. Instead of watching me, he’d trained his focus on the kitchen. And I’d bet money on who.

  “Gosh, Sarah Humphrey’s here?” Jodi hissed. I followed her line of sight, which also led to the kitchen. There Sarah stood, with her flapper-girl haircut and too-long-to-be-real eyelashes, which she batted at a very tall guy in a black shirt. A tall, dark, and hot guy, I’d guess.

  “What is she, stupid?” Jodi said, her voice pure venom. “If she even thinks about taking him from you, I’ll make it a military cut next time.”

  Sarah cocked her head and passed him her cup, beaming with a big, fake smile.

  I turned to Jodi. “Well, if he’s easily persuaded by someone like Sarah Humphrey, I doubt I want him anyway.”

  Jodi took a break from shooting mental daggers at Sarah to give me an exasperated look. “You’re so practical. It’s no fun.”

  She scanned the living room, as if searching for someone. “Seen anyone good tonight?” I asked.

  “You definitely landed the pick of the litter. But the night’s young.”

  I nodded to Eli. “Eli’s looking pretty miserable. Maybe you could save him from the wordy girl and do a little reigniting.”

  “I’m not nearly drunk enough for that,” Jodi said with a laugh. “Besides, he’s only got eyes for you these days.”

  I didn’t answer. My guy had finally broken away from Sarah’s clutches and moved toward Jodi and me, balancing three cups in his fingers.