Jade
Chapter forty-two
My new job fucking sucks, and that's putting it nicely. I thought being a virtual personal assistant would be an ideal position, and it might be if it were for the right person, but my boss is not that person.
"Yes, I'll schedule a car to pick you up from the airport at eight."
"And not one of those rideshare things. A proper car service this time."
I almost lost this job on my first day because I booked her a rideshare. Not a mistake I'll make again.
"Yes. Anything else?" I ask.
"Reservations for two at Lola's at nine."
There's a knock at my door. Who the hell is knocking on my door at ten a.m. on a Tuesday?
"Got it," I say, making my way to the door.
Martina doesn't say thank you or goodbye; she simply hangs up.
"Car service from LAX at eight, reservations at Lola's for nine," I repeat out loud so I don't forget as I look through the peephole.
My heart thuds against my chest at the sight of her.
It's been weeks since I've seen my best friend, or talked to her, and yet here she is at my door.
"Babe, open the door. I know you're there," she says, propping a hand on her hip.
Babe. Not Jade, not bitch. Babe. I let out a sigh of relief, flip the deadbolt, and open the door.
Addie walks past me and flops onto the couch.
"How did you know I was home?" I ask.
She waves her phone at me. Right, location.
We're both silent for far too long, and I fidget, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
She swallows. "You haven't responded to my brother."
What the fuck? Was she expecting me to?
"I have him muted."
"But not blocked," she says with a nod. "Which is more telling than one might think."
I sit cross-legged on the opposite end of the couch.
"Have you listened to his podcast?" she asks.
"Podcast?"
"Hashing it Out with Hayes. Listen to it after I leave."
"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm so fucking sorry."
"I know." She nods. "It's why you haven't responded to him."
"I never meant to hurt you. It should've never happened."
She tilts her head, pinching her brow.
"If I could take it back, I would," I say. "You're my best friend, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I'm not going to sit here and make excuses for why I did what I did. None of it is enough. It was all a mistake."
"I don't think it was," she says, surprising me.
"I think in a way, I walked you both into it.
It was all right in front of my face. I saw it but chose not to see it.
I'm hurt. I'm angry. But it's because you guys hid it from me.
I would've gotten over the idea of the two of you eventually, because let's face it, you guys were inevitable. "
"Inevitable? How so?"
"You're waffles not pancakes," she says as if that explains everything. Her eyes drift to the table where my favorite sketch of Mateo taunts me. It's the one of him holding the back of his neck and giving me a shy smile.
"I think that one sealed the deal on my scholarship," I say.
She nods. "He told me you got that."
"I was going to tell you."
"Like you were going to tell me about "JaggedLines?"
"Eventually," I say. "I was waiting for the right time."
"Were you going to tell me you're pregnant?" she asks.
My eyes go wide. "I…How?"
She points to the open bathroom door, where a small stack of tests sits on the counter.
I swallow.
"I haven't taken one yet," I admit. "I picked them up last week and finally built up the courage to take one today."
"Or five?"
A chuckle bubbles out of me. I can't help it. "Yeah, or five."
"Do you want a hand to hold while you wait the fifteen or whatever minutes?" she asks, her eyes welling with tears.
I nod, blinking back my own tears.
"Go pee on a stick then," she says. "Or five."
"Ads…" I let the thought trail off.
"Would a cup be better?" she asks, standing. "Probably, because otherwise you'll have to pee for a really long time." She says the last part as she shakes her head, walking toward my kitchen. When she comes back, she hands me a small plastic cup.
I take it from her outstretched hand, and she follows me to the bathroom. She takes the tests back to the living room and clears off the coffee table. I pee in the cup while she opens each test.
"This one is a plus sign and five minutes," she says. "This one is two lines and eight minutes. God, why are they not all the same? Why did you get five different brands?"
"I need to be sure," I say, washing my hands. I'm not sure why I bother since I'm about to dip sticks in my pee anyway, but I do.
Addie has all the tests laid out on their instructions.
"They're in order of least amount of time to most," she says. "You ready?"
No, I'm not. I want to ask if this means she's my best friend again. If it means she forgives me. And if the results of these tests will change any of it, but I nod instead.
She dips two sticks in the cup and counts to ten, laying each back on its instruction sheet. Then she sets a timer. I do the next three, counting to ten, and follow her lead.
We're silent as the time ticks by. Addie picks at the ends of her hair, and I look everywhere but at the tests, studying my apartment as if I were a crime scene investigator.
"Do you know what your plan is if these are positive?" she asks, not looking at me. Because she doesn't want me to see her face, or because she doesn't want to see mine when I answer her.
I shake my head.
The first timer beeps.
We make eye contact, and I take Addie's outstretched hand. She squeezes mine, and together we look at the first test. Neither of us say a word as the next timer sounds.
And the next, and the next. Until the final one rings.
If there's a right way to feel right now, I'm not sure what it is. Am I supposed to be happy? Jumping up and down? Or sad and angry? Somebody tell me what the fuck to feel, because I think my emotions have lost the ability to self-regulate.
"What now?" Addie asks, and I turn to face her.
"Oh babe," she says, wrapping her arms around me in a hug and releasing when I don't reciprocate. "Hey, it's okay. You're allowed to not know. How far along do you think?"
I shrug. "Best guess? A few weeks."
"So you've got time to figure it out."
"Ads, I—"
She shakes her head. "Whatever happens now is your choice." She bites her bottom lip and scrunches her face. "But he deserves to know. And listen, I meant it. You guys were inevitable. Waffles, not pancakes."
"What the fuck does that even mean?"
"You guys fit together, highs and lows. You share the load because you're both so dimensional. Pancakes, the top pancake soaks up all the syrup, and it never really lets the bottom pancake thrive."
"Are you high?"
"Listen, it makes sense to me. Like when you hold hands?" She picks up my hand and threads her fingers through mine. "See? Waffles." Then she shifts her grasp to hold my hand in a clasping position. "Pancakes."
She releases my hand and stands. "I hate to leave you right now, but I've gotta get to class. Just listen to the podcast when I leave, okay? And tell him."
I walk her to the door.
"I love you, babe," she says as she turns the handle.
"Love you too," I tell her.
A burst of cold enters when she opens the door, and I'm quick to close it behind her, but she turns and stops it with her hand.
"Also, I'd be a kick-ass auntie," she says with a grin.
"You already are," I say. "To Coop."
She pulls me into a hug, and I hug her back. This time she doesn't let go until I do.
When Cooper gets home from school, I dig Mateo's gifts out of my closet. It feels like the right time. He pulls at the ribbon.
"Do you think he wrapped these himself?" he asks. "They're nice."
"Knowing Charlie, yes," I say, pulling the ribbon off my own package.
Coop unwraps the first gift, and I'm peeved.
It's a laptop. A fancy, expensive one.
"Mom, there's a note." He picks up the sticky note and reads. "For the future video game designer. Take care of your mom when you're rich."
Coop opens two more packages, a second screen for the laptop and a gaming headset.
The last package he opens is a child's framed drawing. It looks to be two worms holding hands, but it's hard to tell.
"I'm smart, but I can't read cursive," Coop says handing it to me.
"I was a little older than you when I drew this. I've kept it as a reminder that we shouldn't let the bad moments in life taint the good ones. Sometimes you can't have one without the other. Remember that."
Coop shrugs. It's obvious he doesn't understand what that means, but someday he will.
"Open yours, Mom."
The box is massive, and I take my time unwrapping it.
Coop lifts the top off the box while I hold the bottom.
On top of mountains of tissue paper is a card.
I thought you might need this.
I move the tissue paper aside.
It's a wooden bat, but not just any wooden bat.
Because this one's used, and it smells like apples.