Chapter 27
Caro: I can’t believe you missed seeing us at Fringe. I kept hoping magic would happen and I’d hear your laugh in the audience.
Hannah: I know. I hate that I wasn’t there. According to the reviews, I missed quite the experience!
Caro: DO NOT READ THE REVIEWS. NEVER READ THE REVIEWS.
Hannah: Even if one called you three “unexpected and hilarious”?
Caro: Oh, go on. Literally. Is there more good stuff?
Hannah: Another one said Perimenopausal and Knackered are “insightful absurdists sure to make you belly laugh.”
Caro: OMGGGGGGGGGGG
Hannah: You seriously didn’t read a single review? What about Duffie and Leah?
Caro: We all swore we wouldn’t. That stuff gets in your head. Do you know who did show up to one of our performances though?
Hannah: Ethel told me she and Beverly came to all of them!
Caro: Aye, they did. Love them. Also . . .
Hannah: Yes???
Caro: Prince Finneas came to one too. Brought these dead brilliant friends with him who laughed their erses off. One of them, Callum,
is dating my cousin Kent now.
Caro: Hannah? Is it okay that I tell you this? Are YOU okay?
Hannah: Of course I’m okay. I’m excited for you. That was really nice of Finn to show up. And Callum is wonderful.
Caro: Babe, how are you really? All ready for uni?
Hannah: Getting there.
Caro: Okay, I was looking up your school and now I need you to explain to me why it’s called Northwestern when it’s not in the
northwest.
Hannah: It is! It’s in the northern part of the US and it’s in the Midwest.
Caro: BABE. I looked at a map. The state of Washington is in the northwest. If you split the US down the middle, Illinois is on
the east side. Please ask your professors to explain themselves when you get there.
Hannah: I miss you so much, Caro.
Caro: Perfect. Then you’ll be keen to come to Scotland next summer for my wedding.
Hannah: WHAT?????? TALK ABOUT BURYING THE LEDE!!! AHHHHH!!! Congratulations!!! I want to hear all about the proposal and the plans next time we talk. Give Duffie a congratulatory hug from me!
Caro: Will do. Love you. Go pack. We’ll FaceTime soon.
Hannah: Love you too.
Once again, chatting with Caro has lifted my spirits. I am beyond thrilled for her and Duffie. The road may have been rocky,
but they’re clearly where they need to be. Still. There’s a pinching in my chest. I wasn’t expecting her to mention Finn,
even though I’m always so tempted to ask her how he is, what he’s doing, if he’s okay. The image of leaving him the night
of the ball never gets easier to recall.
I take a deep breath and look at the Jane Austen quote on my vanity: “I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy;
but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.”
I’m overjoyed for Caro: for the success she had at the festival, for the way things have worked out with Duffie. That’s not
the way my story is going to end. Not the one I’m still writing and not the one I’m living. I have to accept that Finn and
I are not meant to be.
I finish folding my sweaters and stack them neatly into a bin.
I begin painstakingly wrapping souvenirs from past vacations in tissue paper and putting them in a box.
Doing so takes me right back to the gift shop at Inveresk.
There are a million things that remind me of my time there.
And when the pain of missing Finn gets to be too much, I picture Tina in my cottage, telling me the hard truths about her life.
I don’t want to live with that sorrow every day.
I don’t want to have to harden myself against the love I feel.
And the best way to do that is to cut off all contact with him. All thoughts of him.
I leave the rest of the souvenirs for the end and move on to my books. I can’t bring them all with me to Northwestern, so
I focus on my comfort reads, my special editions with sprayed edges.
“Tinkerbell,” my mom calls from downstairs. “You have a visitor.”
“Okay,” I call back. I pause, not allowing myself to irrationally hope that it will be Finn. He’s not part of my future; he’s part of my past, I remind myself. I descend the staircase and see Gigi. She’s wearing short-shorts and a T-shirt from some volleyball camp.
Her hair has grown slightly longer since I last saw her. It’s pulled away from her face, giving me full view of her worried
expression.
Even though I’ve been home for weeks, we haven’t spoken since that disastrous phone call when I was still in Scotland. We
haven’t seen each other since I confronted her about Dean.
There was a time when I would’ve turned around immediately and gone up the stairs without a word. But she looks so tortured, I can’t bring myself to leave her. More importantly, I finally feel strong enough to handle this conversation.
Neither one of us is saying anything, so my mom fills in the awkward gap. “So nice to see you, Gigi. Can I get you something
to drink? A snack?”
“Do you want to talk in my room?” I suggest, much to my mom’s disappointment. I’m sure she’s dying to know what’s going on
between us. Gigi nods and follows me upstairs.
I let Gigi into my room and close the door behind us, knowing my mom will probably hang out in the hallway and eavesdrop.
At least we have the illusion of privacy here. We both sit down on the floor and cross our legs out of habit. For some reason,
sitting on the floor is where we’d always end up. Not on the desk chair, not on the bed, but on the floor, where we could
paint our toenails and scroll through our phones. I remember sleepovers when we’d stay up late trying to flip each other over
by leg wrestling. I remember her telling me about her first kiss while sitting on this floor, and me telling her when Dean
and I decided to have sex.
The hardest part about Gigi’s betrayal was losing the good stuff too.
She clears her throat. “I don’t know what to say to make things better because I don’t think I can make things better. So I’m just going to say the truth.”
“Okay.”
She flicks her eyes to me. I don’t think she was expecting me to hear her out.
She bites her lower lip nervously. “Here’s the truth, then.
As ugly and deranged as it is. I developed feelings for Dean, which I shouldn’t have done, and acted on those feelings.
More than once. In the process, I hurt you, which kills me because you’re one of the people I care about most in this stupid world. ”
“You can’t help who you love, Gigi,” I say, knowing this better than anyone. “But when you acted on it instead of talking
to me? That’s what I can’t get around. The fact that it went on for as long as it did . . .”
“I know.” She buries her face in her hands. It becomes clear in this moment that she’s going to punish herself and hate herself more
than I ever could.
As hurt as I am by her, I don’t hate her. She was a good friend to me for a long time. I don’t want her to be miserable. There’s
one thing I can do to help her in this moment, one thing I can do to be a good friend to her, whether she deserves it or not.
And so, right here and now, I choose to let my anger go. I take all the pain of her betrayal and let it slip through my fingers.
It’s easier than I thought it would be and makes me feel lighter than I have in months.
“What you and Dean did was epically shitty,” I tell her. “It cost you our friendship. We’ll never go back to what we were.”
“I know,” she says.
“But.”
“But?” She looks up hopefully.
“But I do miss you,” I say, because it’s the truth.
“I miss you so much,” Gigi says, quiet tears streaming down her face. “And I can’t believe we’re going off to college not
being friends, and on top of all that? We have to be, like, adults now.”
I laugh. Gigi’s never been the responsible one between us. Obviously.
“You’ll survive,” I tell her. “If I can handle a summer overseas where I lose my job and my flat in the first forty-eight
hours, you can handle living in a dorm a couple of hours from home.”
Gigi stops crying. “Wait, what?”
For a split second, it feels like old times. I lean into that feeling and give her the abbreviated version of my summer. I
don’t mention that the guy I was seeing was royalty. I may be talking to Gigi again, but I still don’t trust her the way I
used to.
“I don’t understand,” Gigi says, shaking her head. “If you loved him and he wasn’t really with that Beatrice chick and you
misunderstood what happened, why did you still leave? Why aren’t you talking to him anymore?”
“It was too messy,” I say simply.
“Yeah, but . . .” Gigi’s eyes look down. She pretends to examine her nails. “Sometimes messy is worth it.”
I don’t need to hear what she means by that. I don’t want to know if or how she and Dean are in love, despite their ugly beginning. Still, her words sink in. More than I’d like them to.
“I should finish packing,” I tell her, standing up. Even without the anger I’ve been harboring, I only have so much emotional
bandwidth for this reunion.
“Yeah, of course.” She hastily stands too.
There’s an awkward moment where we’d normally hug. I check in with myself, decide I’m ready for that step, and wrap my arms
around her.
“Good luck, frosh,” I say.
“Good luck to you, fellow frosh,” she replies. “I’ll only be a couple of hours away if you get lonely at Northwestern.”
I nod. I can’t commit to that, but that doesn’t mean I want to shoot the suggestion down completely. I don’t know what the
future holds for Gigi and me. I don’t know if the mess she and I have made will be worth it. But, right now, I’m willing to
keep that door open.