Chapter 13 It Sounds Really Crass When You Put it Like That #2
“What time do you leave tomorrow?” I ask her, and she glares at me as if I’ve offended her somehow. “I’m just asking!”
“I don’t know yet,” she says stiffly, turning her attention to her plate. She moves one of her fries that got out of place.
“You can stay as long as you want,” Mom tells her, and Marie nods without looking up.
“If anything, you should come home more often,” Gram says. “You’re the only one who bothers to change the water filter in the kitchen.”
Marie lets out a flat chuckle at that. “Thanks, Grandma.”
Dinner continues in silence, except for when Mom and I fight over who gets the last of the sauce, right through dessert—a sad store-bought pumpkin pie that I pile high with whipped cream from a can. (Marie doesn’t put any whipped cream on hers because, like I said, heathen.)
“Audrey.” Marie approaches me in the kitchen while I load the dishwasher, and I grunt in acknowledgement without looking at her. “Can we talk?”
I lead Marie up to my apartment after we’ve helped clean up downstairs, and she slips her shoes off at the door before inching her way towards the living room curiously.
“Looks different in here.” She hasn’t seen the place since I moved up here a few years ago. “It’s cute.”
I try not to bristle at the condescension in her voice. “Thanks.”
“Okay, well…” She looks around for another minute before taking a seat on the couch. “Do you wanna sit?”
I resist the urge to run over and tackle her in a hug, like I would have twenty years ago whenever she deigned to spend time with me, and trudge over to take a seat next to her. “What did you want to talk about?” I ask disinterestedly.
“I’m sure Mom’s told you that Josh and I hit a rough patch a little while ago,” she says after taking a steadying breath. Her openness about it surprises me, but I offer her a tight nod. “Maybe longer than a little while, but…” She sighs. “I think we broke up.”
I don’t like the way that the words settle heavily in my chest. “You think?” I ask, and there’s a bratty tone to my words that just seems to come naturally when talking to Marie, even though I don’t mean for it. If she notices, she doesn’t react to it.
“We haven’t really announced it to everyone yet,” she says, looking down at her hands fidgeting in her lap, “but I’ve started packing up my stuff. A friend of ours is going to drive it here, and Josh agreed to help.”
“Whoa.” I want to smack myself for that unhelpful comment. “Is this forever or just temporary?”
Marie shrugs, shaking her head. “We said we’ll take a month apart to see how it goes, but I don’t think we’re getting back together afterwards.”
“I’m sorry…” I reach out and rub her back reassuringly, and she leans towards me, dropping her head to my shoulder.
What is happening?
“I don’t know how to tell them,” she says. “Mom and Grandma. They’re going to be so disappointed.”
“They will not be disappointed,” I tell her softly. I can’t even imagine how that would be a concern for her. “They just want what’s right for you, and if Josh isn’t right for you, then—”
Marie breaks into a sob on my shoulder and I hesitantly put my other arm around her, a loose approximation of a hug.
“I’m…sorry I’m so bad at this,” I say, and she lets out a wet laugh before sitting upright again.
“You’re fine,” she says, wiping her eyes.
“Do you want tea?” I offer. “Tea usually helps with…stuff.”
She gives me a small smile, her eyelashes still damp with tears. “Tea would be great.”
I don’t bother asking what kind she wants because I know she only ever drinks regular, the same way that I drink mine. It’s one thing we have in common, at least.
Fussing with the kettle and scrounging up a couple of clean mugs, I don’t notice that my sister has moved to my desk until our tea is steeping. When I look over, I can see that she’s reading something on my now-awake monitors, and I rush over to stop her.
“What are you—”
“Who is this SconesOfAyor?” She looks up at me, smiling. “Is this your new friend?”
“What, were you reading our chat?” I ask, horrified as I reach across her for the mouse so I can minimize the window.
“I accidentally bumped the mouse and it was right there,” she says. “I only saw a little bit. He was word-vomiting at you. It was cute.”
“Word-vomit is not cute,” I say, though I can feel myself blushing.
“The last message says he wants to hang out when he’s back in town,” she adds, looking a bit smug, which seems incongruous to the way she fell apart on my couch five minutes ago. “It looks like you didn’t see that one.”
“So?”
“I think he likes you, Audrey.” There’s no mocking tone in her voice, but I know she can’t be serious.
“Yeah, that’s likely,” I scoff. “We’re friends, okay?”
“Does he make you laugh?” Her question is so serious that it takes me by surprise.
“What?”
Her eyes narrow pensively as she stares at the wall behind me. “Josh never made me laugh.”
I’m struck by how sad that statement is and it makes me want to hug her again. But I don’t.
“Do you want to watch Frozen?” I ask instead.
She looks up at me again, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. “Sure.”