Chapter 18 Your Most Annoying Friend
Chapter 18
Your Most Annoying Friend
I pushed my way through the crowded room and back toward the outdoor area, which glowed pink under the late afternoon sunlight. As soon as I’d run through the last set of doors, I ran into someone with a solid thud and wondered just how much further my day could fall, from the heights of pleasure less than an hour ago to knocked literally down to the ground.
“Oh, god, Clementine, I’m so sorry.” The person extended a hand to pull me up, and I realized it was the Johnny’s bartender, Sadie. She was dressed in an indigo suit over a patterned knit top, casual and formal all rolled into one.
“No, it was me,” I said, back on my feet but not feeling much better for it. “I didn’t see you earlier at the bar. But to be fair, we did get lazy and mainly just drink the wine at the table.”
“Oh, no, I’m not working the wedding, my partner’s friends with the brides,” she said, and I felt my face burn.
“Sorry, of course, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No apology needed,” she said. “It’s good to see you. Beautiful wedding, right?”
“The most beautiful,” I said. “I’m not usually a wedding person, but—”
“Oh, I know. This thing put all my notions of doing the thing at city hall someday way out of my head. Though I think I’d have to become a lot richer magically, so there’s that.”
“Yeah, there’s definitely that.”
She smiled right at me, that magic bartender connection energy. “You OK? Besides getting knocked down?”
“Just … I don’t know. You know that drink you’re working on that you gave me to help with my previous man trouble? And my …”
Sadie grinned. “Future-slash-current girl trouble?”
“Anyway. I could use one of those right now.”
“Hold that thought,” she said, slipping away, and I wondered if, despite the seemingly bonhomie vibe of that interaction, I’d also just somehow made it too weird. Bartenders were people, too. In their off-hours they probably didn’t want to hear too much about one’s future-slash-current girl trouble.
Except, no, Sadie returned a couple minutes later, her hands holding out two tumblers.
“I thought you weren’t bartending,” I said, recognizing that shimmering pink drink.
“Eh, I played the bartender card, they let me back behind the bar,” she said, handing me one of the tumblers. “Cheers to girl troubles. Even when they suck—well, I guess it’s often fun getting there. Tell me to shut up if this has been one of those unfun exceptions.”
I clinked my glass against hers. “No. It’s been pretty fun.”
She gave me an understanding nod, and we finished our drinks in silence as the DJ’s music filled the air around us.
“Thanks,” I told her, after I’d tipped my glass back for the very last sip. “I can’t believe I was rude enough to assume you were working the wedding, and then you still made me a drink.”
“To be fair, I did work that party just the other night,” she said with a kind smile. “But you’re really welcome. Come by next week and I’ll do an even better version of this one, OK? I should go, my girl loves this MUNA song so I think I’m needed on the dance floor. Join us?”
“Maybe later,” I said, and waved as she headed inside. My phone’s home screen was empty of the messages I guessed I’d hoped I would have by now, so going in didn’t sound great.
Outside all the way now, I spotted an empty bench at the edge of the property, a little corner tucked away. But as I was about to take a seat, I spotted a fuchsia dress doing the exact same thing.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, jumping back when I saw that it was Bianca.
“Sorry why?” she asked coolly, sitting down but looking up at me with one eyebrow cocked.
“I thought I was alone,” I said. “I assume you did, too.”
She shrugged. “Just wanted a quieter spot to read texts from our nanny and stare at photos of my kid like a codependent and anxious person. Two things I’m trying really hard not to be.”
“Oh,” I said, and sat down next to her. “If it makes you feel better, you don’t seem like one.” It was the understatement, I thought, of the year. Bianca was cool and collected, period.
“It does make me feel better, thanks.” She scrolled through her phone for a few silent moments before glancing at me. “You OK?”
“Maybe I’m being stupid,” I said, knowing that the adult thing to do was probably exactly what Chloe suggested, time with other people. I could be inside right now, at the other table or dancing to “I Know a Place” with Sadie and her partner. All of it sounded wiser than pouting alone.
“I didn’t ask if you were being stupid,” she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It was a little rough in there.”
I couldn’t believe how good it felt hearing that, her words landing in an empty spot in my chest. “I knew what I was in for, but …”
Bianca nodded. “I’ve known her a long time, and I know what it looks like when she’s panicking, even if how it looks to others is—” She cut herself off with a laugh. “You know, just general asshole behavior.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I do know.”
“You shouldn’t take it the way it seems,” Bianca said. “No, sorry. You have every right to take it the way it seems. You seem like someone who has healthy boundaries.”
I actually snorted I laughed so hard. “Sorry, no. I’m not sure that I do.”
“When Chloe told us you two were dating, you know, I was worried. She’d had a crush on you for so long. And you didn’t seem …”
“I didn’t seem what ?” I asked, waiting for it. Queer? Real? Worthy of her?
And also—what? A crush? For so long?
“As invested. You play your cards close to your chest, you know,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“To be fair,” I said, not sure why it felt safe saying it to one of the most intimidating people I knew—hell, my boss’s wife , “so do you.”
“Well, sure,” she said with a laugh. “But I know myself. You, less so. I thought, Chloe’s been saying for years that relationships aren’t for her, that all she needs is Fernando, and then suddenly you’re here and she’s making heart eyes at you and you’re at a distance.”
Sometimes there was no stranger sensation than hearing how someone else saw you.
“And then I thought—well, Jesus, Bianca.” She let out what could only be described as a cackle. “Our group is so much . And you just got thrown in with all of us. And then I thought, oh, god , and her boss is here !”
“Yep,” I said, validated that finally—finally!—someone else pointed out the awkwardness in that. “Which of course Chloe hadn’t mentioned to me.”
“No, of course she hadn’t.” Bianca laughed to herself for a while longer, and even in this mood I couldn’t help but join in. “Anyway. I really was sure she was bound to get her heart broken.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. That was never going to happen.”
“Because you’re in way more than you seem,” Bianca said lightly, but I knew it was an acceptance. She thought she saw me as I was, my intentions laid bare. And I didn’t know why that was what did it, but I couldn’t keep going a moment longer.
“No,” I said. “Because I was never in it to begin with. And neither was Chloe. This was all some terrible—it feels so fucking stupid saying it out loud.”
Bianca watched me quietly, but instead of the suspicious gaze I expected, her expression was open, waiting.
“She needed a date for all of this,” I said, waving my finger in a circle to indicate the wedding and assorted events. “I guess I needed one, too. The way my brother and sister-in-law were talking about me behind my back, I couldn’t show up at my parents’ anniversary party alone. And the way my friends—well, and being a baby gay, apparently. Girl experience so the first real girl isn’t scared off. So whatever you thought you saw in me, that’s all it was. A fake girlfriend.”
“Uh-huh,” Bianca said. “I’m sure that’s all it was.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d expected would happen when I finally, maybe inevitably, let someone in on this whole charade, but it definitely wasn’t bold nonchalance . “What do you mean?”
“Well, I can tell that you and Chloe constructed this little story where you were putting on some show for us,” Bianca said. “But all I saw were two people falling for each other.”
“We were good at the scam,” I said, and Bianca laughed.
“No, you aren’t. Really, you? Who thought earlier I wouldn’t be able to tell you and Chloe had just hooked up and tried to make casual bathroom conversation with me?”
I cracked up. “Sorry, is that not proper bathroom conversation protocol?”
“It’s adorable you two thought it was something fake,” Bianca said. “But I don’t even really know what that means when the two of you are so—hell, Clementine, I don’t know. I know she’s acting like an asshole right now. But you’ve probably blown up her whole world. If you’ve got the patience to see it through, I think it’s going to be really good on the other side of things.”
I hugged my arms around myself. “I’m not sure that’s true. But I guess it’s nice to hear.”
“You know your most annoying friend who’s always right about everything?” She gestured to herself. “That’s now me.”
“We’re only friends until this thing is over,” I said. “And that contract runs out in two weeks, after the family party.”
“First of all, that seems pretty unlikely to me. But second of all, even if you and Chloe do have some weird arrangement, the rest of us aren’t in on that. I’ll continue to be your most annoying friend who’s the most correct about everything. Can you imagine trying to stop me?”
“To be fair, no.” I smiled faintly. “Can I ask you something? Feel free to tell me to mind my own business—”
“Oh, I will.”
“I expect nothing less,” I said, my smile feeling a little less faint already. “I’ve had the same couple of best friends basically since I moved back to LA after college. And it’s hard. They mean so much to me but I feel like to them especially that friendship is like the lowest priority. And one has a baby and the other wants to, and if it’s already—you know, a dinner every other month at best, which is like advanced mathematics levels of difficulty to get scheduled, I feel like it’s just going to get less than that. But with all of you, it’s just not like that. So what am I doing wrong?”
“Being friends with straight people?” she asked, and then laughed. “I’m kidding. But I do feel like queer people can prioritize friendship differently, chosen family and all. People used to get kicked out of their families of origin and even though that’s not the situation for any of us, I think we still feel that, the way we can be more to each other than people we see only when we’ve got time, and also that sometimes friendship means making time, even when it’s—your words—advanced mathematics level of difficulty.”
I nodded, feeling guilty for being a little surprised that intimidating-as-hell Bianca was saying something that resonated with me somewhere deep in my gut. To be honest, I hadn’t thought a lot about the feelings of this group of friends; I just felt that they were getting something right that I hadn’t managed to.
“Not to sound a million years old,” she continued, “but I see all the memes people post about brunch, which—sure, I have definitely spent fifty bucks on what amounts to a couple of scrambled eggs, haven’t we all. But then I think about all the queer people and anyone else who didn’t feel welcome or didn’t want to go to church on Sunday mornings and so they carved out their own thing instead. Not to say I’m always honoring my queer elders, trust me. Sometimes I just want mimosas and overpriced eggs.”
“Sometimes that’s all that I want, too,” I said, and we grinned at each other.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Bianca said. “Friendship is just a lot of work and life is busy. Phoebe and I know we’ve got it easier than most people; we can pay for a babysitter every week so we can have brunch without worrying about diapers and tantrums. It might not be as easy for your friends. Plus you feel guilt constantly anyway! Guilt if you’re with your friends and not with your child, and guilt if you’re with your child and not with all these people who love you. Every time we skip out on something I feel a little shitty. And I feel shitty when we don’t skip out. As someone who likes being good at everything, parenthood is a real challenge.”
I thought of Hailey, how much she wanted everything to be perfect, how easy it had been for me to write that off because her current goals involved things like clowns and face painting. It wasn’t even because I couldn’t take those things seriously—though to be fair I supposed I did not take them very seriously—but because I could only see what they symbolized for me, just more items on the list of how much Hailey’s life had nothing to do with mine anymore.
“I meant to cheer you up, but you somehow look even more serious now,” Bianca said with a laugh.
“I’m not sure I know how to be a very good friend now,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve been so worried about myself. And my friends don’t need me and I—god, I don’t know. It’s all harder than I want it to be.”
“I don’t know your friends, obviously,” Bianca said. “But I know Chloe very well, and I feel like I know you well enough by now to say this. Sometimes the scariest thing is the idea of actually getting what you’re after. Things end up hard because it can be easier to make them that way than just—”
She cut herself off with a knowing smile, and I followed her line of sight to see Phoebe and Chloe walking toward us. It would have been a nice moment for some clarity, but Chloe’s expression gave nothing away.
“It’s time for cake,” Phoebe said. “And I’ve heard it’s going to be a good one.”
Bianca grinned and stood up to join Phoebe. “Ari was off shooting something when the cake decision was locked in, so Nina took me along on her final tasting. Y’all, it’s great .”
“I’ll join you in a minute,” I said, and watched them walk back inside.
“You’re OK?” Chloe asked.
“Sure,” I said. “You warned me I wouldn’t be in photos, so I wasn’t in photos.”
Chloe shifted her weight from one foot to another, shoved her hands into her pockets. “I didn’t mean that you had to leave.”
I shrugged, suddenly lonely out here without Bianca, without anyone who seemed like they might be on my side. “Erring on the side of whatever.”
“You’ll come in for cake, though, right?” she asked.
“Sure. I trust Bianca’s review.”
I followed Chloe inside, still feeling hollowed out from the inside, alone in a way I’d been too busy to process. If this was all pretend, then no matter what Bianca said, maybe soon I wouldn’t have anything left at all. There was just my parents’ party and we were through.
The cake was light and airy, notes of vanilla and citrus and a hint of cardamom. I laughed along with jokes and danced with the whole group and had seconds and then thirds of dessert. Despite every single count against it, I’d still never had so much fun at a wedding before.
We were some of the last to leave, outstaying the younger crowd of friends—which felt like something of an ego boost we all needed. Back at the hotel we said goodbye, because we were all headed back to LA sometime in the earlier half of the day and had decided that just for once we could skip brunch.
I didn’t know what would happen in our room, but ultimately it was that we each got ready for bed (I decided I could cede the bra and sweatpants) and quietly got under the covers in the darkness, facing away from each other.
“I set an early alarm so I could hit up the hotel breakfast,” Chloe said, and I waited for the invitation and the softening in the tension pressing against us. “So feel free to ignore it when you hear it.”
“Yep,” I said, instead of any of the things I wanted to say to her. “I will.”