Chapter 13
Drew
A
s I cruise through the aisles of the grocery store, for once thankful for the hustle and bustle of the crowd grabbing last-minute items for their Christmas Eve dinners, I’m too happily distracted with the world around me to focus on the war going on inside my head.
Growing up, there was such a different atmosphere depending on whose house I was at. At my mom’s, there was an abundance of fruits and veggies and nothing that had over three grams of carbs. Dinners were colorful and full of protein, and dessert was a once-a-week kind of thing.
At my dad’s, it was paralleled with a near-empty fridge and take-out boxes overflowing the garbage and recycling bins.
I decided that when I moved out, I would take the best of both worlds and live a healthy yet balanced lifestyle, sticking to only two nights a week ordering out, plates with every food group, and dessert being an every-night occurrence.
But today, I’ve grabbed a new holiday coffee creamer to try, a box of blueberry Pop-Tarts, and two pints of ice cream: one chocolate-y and one fruity. I need one for both moods.
I decide to peruse the freezer section, knowing full well I will not be bothered to cook a full meal anytime soon and settle on the classics that I know I love: Jack’s frozen pepperoni pizzas, Tyson chicken strips, and microwaveable breakfast burritos. All can be made with the kitchen appliances I have, allowing me to forget the chore of cooking for the foreseeable future.
No need to be balanced today.
Everything in my cart is an example of a temptation I try to keep out of my home. But, I tell myself that my favorite foods, no matter how many grams of sugar or carbs, will help make me feel better.
Even if it is temporary.
I feel my phone vibrate, hoping it will stop after one. When the vibrations continue, telling me it’s a phone call rather than a text, my stomach drops, hoping it’s not either of the parents I was just thinking about. I pull out my phone to see a picture of Lacey laughing with a glass of wine in her hand, a picture from a dinner we had to celebrate her getting her first job out of college. My hesitation to answer the phone fades away. I touch the green circle on the screen, “Hey, bestie girl.”
“Drew, honey! I’m so glad to hear your voice.” Her voice, so inherently pleasant and kind, is exactly what I didn’t know I needed right now. “What are you up to?
“Nothing much,” I respond. “I’m just grabbing some stuff at the grocery store. How was your flight?”
“Good! I got in super early this morning, and I’m already spending my time trying to get a word in while everyone talks about how amazing Sal is,” she explains. Sal is Lacey’s older brother who has always shined in the spotlight, even at Lacey’s expense. Having brothers, mine younger and hers older, with names that rhymed is something we bonded over when we first met on the school bus back in kindergarten. She sat next to me on the first day of school, getting on at the stop right after me. We exchanged how her house and my house were both gray, and how my brother’s name was Cal and hers was Sal. These two things in common, and we decided it only made sense we become best friends, and it’s been that way ever since.
It’s crazy to think how easy life seems when you’re five, bonding over the color of paint and a shared phonemic awareness skill and then subconsciously deciding that this person would be your person for the rest of your life.
“You’re amazing, Lace. You know that,” I reply, meaning every single word. “Tell everyone I say hello.”
Lacey’s parents moved to be closer to her grandparents when she went to college, her and Sal both staying here to go to college in Madison, Sal being two years older than us.
“Of course! You should come out with me next time I come, it would be nice for you to get away, you know, from everything.” The cheeriness in her voice slightly leaving when she says that last part.
While I know that she means well, I feel the weight get heavier on my chest as the brief bliss of forgetting what happened to me teased my brain into thinking I could have a normal conversation with my best friend.
“Yeah, maybe. So, what’s up?”
“Oh, right! So, I fly back later this week, and I was hoping we could grab lunch, just you and me. I know you’re still on break, and I have off until after the new year.”
It’s been months since Lacey and I sat down, just the two of us to catch up, but the thought of it right now makes me nauseous. The only thing to catch up about is the last thing I want to talk about, not to mention my run-in with Reed this morning and my grumpy neighbor. Those three things being the only new things to discuss, and Lacey doesn’t need me dumping any stress on her.
“Um… yeah maybe,” I manage to get out after a little hesitation. “Text me when you’re back.”
“Oh my gosh… Awesome! Yes, will do!” Her excitement and slight tone of surprise tells me she had a clue as to what I was thinking and didn’t expect me to somewhat agree. After a brief pause, she continues, “Promise me you’re doing okay?”
“I’m okay,” I tell her, feeling my voice lose confidence.
Am I okay?
Maybe if I say it out loud enough times or enough people tell me that I am, I’ll feel like it.
“I have to go,” I quickly add before she can ask if I’m really okay. “I need to get in line to check-out if I ever want to get out of here.”
“No worries. I’m sure the Christmas Eve crowd is crazy!” I can hear voices on her end. “I have to run too. Mom’s yelling for me to help her with brunch.” I smile knowing exactly how Mrs. Anderson’s voice gets when she needs Lacey to do something. “Don’t forget to text me, okay?”
“I will, Lace! Now go help your mom.”
She laughs in her carefree sort of way, and my world is a better place because of it. “Okay, love you, bye!” The phone clicks before I can tell her I love her too.
I put my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and glance up at the signs for what else is in the aisle I’m in. I didn’t come with a list, which is always a bad idea, yet I can’t find it within me to care.
With Lacey’s voice still fresh in my mind, I slowly push my cart down the rest of the frozen aisle. My mind starts to take me back to this morning and my encounter with Reed, and I feel an odd rush of guilt wash over me.
Why didn’t I tell Lacey?
She was on the phone, asked me how I was doing, and I just lied and said I was okay. Reed and Lacey are the only two I have as constants in my life, even if one is way more reliable than the other. And the reliable one is always there for me to complain about the un-reliable one.
I guess that is until recently.
I start racking my brain for the last time I talked to Lacey about Reed, and I come up empty. I didn’t tell Lacey about what Reed said to me about my teaching job a few weeks ago, or how I deleted his number for the real this time. Those are things a normal person tells their best friend.
I come up empty with no recollection of a personal conversation with Lacey, or anyone else for that matter. Conversations didn’t go far with Reed, and the only other person outside of work I’ve talked to is Emmett, if you can even consider our encounters as conversations.
My cheeks warm just at the thought of Emmett, and then warm even more at the realization of my reaction to thinking about him.
He’s the last thing I need to be thinking about.
Bringing my mind back to what matters, I think about how Lacey and I have drifted so much that I don’t remember the last time we talked like we did when she would visit me at my off-campus apartment, or when I would spend the weekend with her in Madison. She liked Reed just fine in high school. At least until senior year when she told me that if Reed was making me feel guilty for following what I wanted to do then our relationship never meant anything. Ever since then, she’s lovingly advised me against the relationship I continued with Reed through college and up until now, but she never made me feel like she was judging me for it.
My fingertips graze the top of my back pocket, but I stop myself from grabbing my phone again. I know Lacey would drop everything if I called her back, but I can’t. She’s with her family, preparing Christmas Eve brunch. It’s not fair for me to dump that all on her. Lacey and I probably wouldn’t even have had that phone call just now if it weren't for the…
I stop mid-step, gripping the metal cart’s handle, feeling the skin covering my knuckles strain. My body starts to freeze, feeling as if I’m inside the freezers surrounding me.
No.
This can’t happen.
Everyone’s telling me that I’m okay, and I am.
I’m okay.
It doesn’t matter that Lacey and I have drifted or that I didn’t tell her about Reed. What matters is she is in my life, and I was lucky that she was there for me in the time I needed her the most. I’m okay, and I’m lucky.
Right?
I manage to uncurl my fingers from the handle, reaching for my phone once again. I decide to not bother Lacey with my spiraling thoughts and open my messages to start a new thread.
I type in a number that isn’t saved into my contacts, but I know all too well. I send something short and sweet–apologizing for my surprise this morning and letting Reed know I appreciate him thinking of me. I click send before I can think myself out of it, and I slip my phone back into my pocket. I half-heartedly hope to feel it vibrate with a text right away, but nothing comes.
Before leaving the freezer section, I assess my cart and find that I need one more thing: Eggo waffles. While homemade waffles are much better, the kind that you can just put in the toaster will do for the next few days. I cross the aisle and open the door to all the frozen breakfast options. A slight fog appears as I open the door, the water vapor chilling my cheeks.
I spend way too much time contemplating on grabbing the normal waffles or the minis and end up choosing to get a box of each. I throw the boxes in my cart and close the freezer door, and I am met with a face I recognize yet feel like I’m seeing for the first time.