Chapter 28
Chapter
“Well, shit…” Chloe stares at me from the opposite side of the couch. Sometime within forty minutes of me explaining what happened five years ago, we moved ourselves into the living room. “So, what did Adam say when you told him you were leaving?”
“Well…” I swallow. “I didn’t.”
“What do you mean you didn’t ?” She frowns. “You didn’t what?”
“Tell him that I was leaving.” I look down.
What was supposed to be a quick trip for a screen test was actually a one-way ticket with no intention of coming back. Getting it off my chest isn’t necessarily freeing, it’s bringing on a heavy weight of guilt and embarrassment that I’ve been suppressing for years.
“What are you talking about?” She looks at me incredulously, like she’s still not understanding what I’m telling her. That there’s no way it’s true. Like I’m not capable of doing something so hurtful.
“I didn’t tell Adam I was moving to LA,” I say bluntly, because it’s the only way she’ll understand. “I told him exactly what I told you. That I was only going to visit for a week, and to attend some auditions.”
“Yeah, and then you got a part on that show,” Chloe says, nodding. “And decided staying there was the best decision for your career.”
That’s the thing with white lies. They become full-blown lies, and then if you say it enough, it becomes the truth. Or you can at least tell yourself it’s the truth.
“I never had any intention of coming back, Chloe,” I say regretfully. “I was just lucky I got that role. If I didn’t, I probably would’ve made up some excuse to stay…I bought a one-way ticket.”
Chloe’s face collapses. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know…Because I was scared, I was embarrassed…
I should’ve told you.” I shake my head like it’s the most pathetic excuse.
Because it is. I feel my eyes well up. I remember how alone I felt, so unsure.
It was one of the biggest decisions I’ve made and I didn’t confide in my best friend.
“You should’ve been the first person I told. ”
“How did Adam take it?” she asks, still trying to understand. “He wouldn’t make it that easy for you.”
I rub my forehead, revisiting a painful chapter in my memory. I let out a long breath and sit back, staring at the fireplace. My eyes go to that chipped spot on the mantel.
“When I didn’t come back the next week, he was texting me, calling me, making sure I was okay.
” My voice cracks. “He left me endless voicemails that I never listened to, because it was too hard to hear his voice. Chloe, I knew the minute I heard him I would cave. So I sent him a text…and told him I was staying.” I close my eyes and push through the rest of the details.
“I told him, sent him the money for the remaining month of our lease, hired movers to pack the rest of my stuff, and then I cut ties. I blocked him and unfollowed him…I erased him.”
Now there’s a look of horror on her face.
It’s not the kind of face you make when you tell someone that their boss is sleeping with their secretary, or when your favorite celebrity couple announces they’re getting a divorce.
It’s a face that tells me she’s looking at someone she thought she knew… but who is now a stranger.
“No.” Chloe shakes her head. “No way. I saw him after. I asked him how he was doing. He said he was good. He said he was happy for you, that it’d been a few weeks since you talked because you were both busy…
but you guys were good,” she rambles, her words spilling out of her as she remembers every detail.
“We talked about it and he didn’t mention any of this. ”
My stomach twists at the thought of that conversation. A part of me had wondered if Adam would confide in Chloe, but another part knew he wouldn’t. Because that’s Adam. He would never put Chloe in the middle ofus.
“What happened with Rent ?” Chloe asks.
“I told them I had a family emergency and needed to be on the West Coast,” I say, and she nods, filling in the missing gaps. “I’m not proud of any of it.” I lean in, hoping she believesme.
“How could you do it?” she says, and it’s not a rhetorical question. “Adam really cared about you. Whatever you told yourself to sleep at night, June, that’s still six years of friendship.”
When your lives are intertwined the way mine and Adam’s were, you don’t simply stop caring about the other person.
Most people would see our relationship as suffocating.
Living under the same roof for years, knowing the ins and outs of each other’s days, our thoughts, our mannerisms. But what happens is after that first night, that first week apart, you learn you actually don’t know how to breathe without the other.
I never stopped caring about Adam. In fact, I spent more time convincing myself I didn’t care…
and there was only one way to really make myself believeit.
“He had Riley,” I say softly. Chloe just looks at me. Her eyes travel from mine to my nose, ears, shoulders, torso, analyzing the person in front of her. I have no idea what she’s thinking. “Please say something,” I beg. Chloe has something to say, always. Her silence is deafening.
“You just left,” she says in a way that hurts. I think she wants it to. “Just like that.” She snaps her fingers.
“I know.” I bring my palm to my jawline, wiping away the pool of tears.
“Chloe, I should’ve told you,” I say again.
“And I wish I could say I thought about coming clean every single day, but the truth is I didn’t,” I admit.
“I didn’t want to tell you about Riley and I didn’t want to tell you why I left…
and it wasn’t you. I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone, because I was in so much pain. ”
“June,” she breathes out.
“You got your dream job, you started a new life, and I was so fucking happy for you,” I continue.
“I would never want to take any of those things away…but you were also gone. And texting or talking on the phone wasn’t the same as you being here.
It was different. And I don’t know, maybe I was sad you left, andI was sad Adam found Riley, and maybe I should’ve told you, or I should’ve told him, or I should’ve stayed on Broadway.
I should’ve done a lot of things differently…
but I did the only thing I could’ve done in the moment.
It was run. Run and forget about all of it.
And I know it’s fucked up and I know it’s immature—”
“And selfish, and cruel, and fucked up,” she says.
“I already said that.” I sniff.
“Well, I’m saying it again because it’s extra fucked up.” We stare at each other, and I’m ready for her to get up and walk out of the house. Ready for the reaction I should have gotten years ago. “And I’m sorry you had to deal with it alone.”
My face drops. “What?”
“I had literally no idea any of this was happening, and I don’t know, I just wish you could’ve let me be there for you. We could have figured it out,” she says.
“Chloe, you just got a job at the firm. You were in such a good place in your career,” I remind her. “I was not going to be the reason you were distracted from your new life. None of this was important compared to that.”
“June, you’re my best friend. When it comes to our feelings, it’s always important,” she says. “You’re not the only person who missed the way it used to be. I was in butt fuck nowhere Connecticut, in a stuffy office, scared shitless, slammed with work…and I missed my best friend.”
“Chloe…” My voice cracks. I had no idea she felt this way.
“June, just because I left New York doesn’t mean I left you.”
Her words lodge deep into my gut and stay there.
“And I didn’t just miss you back then,” she continues.
“I miss you now. I hate how life got in the way and we only talk once every few months, and I hate how Teddy can’t grow up with his badass aunt June, and I hate how you’re going to be leaving soon, because I know it won’t be the same once you’re gone.
” Now she’s the one who’s wiping away a tear, something I’ve only ever seen maybe twice in our entire friendship.
“I’ve missed you too,” I say earnestly. Not the way we text it to each other and not in the same upbeat way we end our phone calls. But in a way that tells her I don’t just miss her, I miss us. “And I hate all of those things too,” I cry.
Chloe reaches over and squeezes my hand. It’s a simple gesture that confirms she’s here for me, and always has been. “Don’t move to another city and lie about why you’re moving again, okay?”
“I promise.” I wipe a tear from my cheek. “Chloe, I don’t deserve you.”
“See, that’s your problem, June,” Chloe says. “You deserve to have people care about you.”
My eyes cut to her. “I got the part in Les Mis, ” I say, and it feels more like a confession than anything.
“You got— Wait, what?!”
“The revival.” I nod. “Rehearsals start next month.”
“What?! June! Congratulations!” She reaches over and gives me a hug. When she pulls away, her face drops. “Why aren’t you happy?”
“Because it’s real now, you know?” My voice quakes. “Being here in New York, going back on Broadway, fucking living in this house? And last time—”
“It’s different this time,” she says.
“I just…” I look up. “I don’t know what to do.”
“What do you want to do?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Yes, you do,” she says firmly. “You’ve always known.”
The words absolutely terrify me, but I allow myself to finally say them out loud.
“I love him.”
Chloe gives me a smile. “Then love him.”
It feels like we’re two kids back on the fire escape, looking over New York. The concept of love and happiness is something that would solve everything. Here we are, almost a decade later, and that sentiment still rings true.