29. Gabe
CHAPTER 29
GABE
T wo weeks pass in a blur. Phoebe is the first to comment on my mood, but to be fair, it’s not like I’ve been spending time with anyone else.
“You liked that girl, didn’t you?” she says one day out of the blue, so simply and to the point it gives me no time to think, no room to deny it.
All I say is, “I did.”
She nods. “Girls, huh? Don’t they just break your heart?”
I grimace. “This isn’t going to be another tedious story about your love life, is it?”
She throws up both hands, pretending to be offended. “When have I ever done that to you?”
I raise an eyebrow. For someone so young, she’s got an incredibly complicated dating and social life. It makes me glad for my own simplicity.
Well, it did before. I’m feeling pretty complicated myself right now.
After Carly left, my life went back to normal.
Jensen called and tried to get me to hang out again, but I said no. His isn’t the kind of friendship I’ve been missing.
Now, I go to the shop. I work on cars. I go home.
I wake up with my arms curled tight around myself and try not to remember the way Carly felt nestled between them, the comfort of listening to her breathe deeply as I fell asleep, that dazzling smile.
A few times I consider calling her, but I know she doesn’t want to hear from me. She didn’t call me when she got to New York. She didn’t even text.
For a short time, I thought I was about to start a new life, one where I didn’t reject other people or scare them off. One where I had friends who wanted me, who asked me to do things with them. With Carly, all of that felt possible.
Now I’m back on my own.
It feels safer to mind my own business, not to get involved.
Phoebe keeps trying to probe, but I resist. Admitting to her that I liked Carly was bad enough. I let her tell me stories of her bad breakups, and it doesn’t do anything to make me feel better.
And like the cherry on top of the cake, the two people in the world who I actually would call friends have been in sunny Italy, exploring ancient temples and sending photos. I guess it’s nice of them to think of me.
Some days, that’s the only tether I have to the outside world.
Some days, seeing them smiling together makes me feel sick.
Before Carly, I had accepted that romance wasn’t in the cards for me, that I wasn’t destined for a relationship, and I had about persuaded myself that I didn’t care. Now I’m going to have to do all that work all over again. And worse, everyone’s going to keep reminding me of what I’ve lost the whole time, on purpose or not.
The day after Ruth and John get back from Italy, she calls me, demanding that I come over for lunch.
I try to say no, but she pushes, and even when I’m actively unpleasant, she still tells me that my choices are that I go over to their house or they’re coming over to mine.
One thing about Ruth is she’s persistent. I know she’s not going to give up until I agree.
That’s how I end up standing outside their house with a bottle of wine, ringing the doorbell. John opens the door, grins, and welcomes me inside.
If I were being polite, I’d say he was sun-kissed, but his ginger complexion and the Italian sun have not worked in his favor. His nose is red and peeling, and the closest thing you could call a tan is his red ears and flaky shoulders.
Ruth, meanwhile, is glowing. The sun makes her dark complexion shine, and yet again makes me chuckle to think about how many worlds apart they both are.
They sit me down and place a large mug of coffee in front of me.
“How are you doing?” Ruth asks.
I shrug. “The same. Aren’t you going to tell me all about your vacation?”
“Of course,” she says. “But first we want to know about you. You’re our friend, Gabe. And we’ve been letting you down the last few years. That’s going to change, though. We are going to see you more often, and you are going to like it.”
Despite myself, I smile at that. Anyone would count themselves lucky to have friends as good as these two. If they told me that they would always be there for me, that I could count on them in an emergency, I wouldn’t doubt it. They would be the first people I would turn to.
“You look gloomy,” says John.
“Tough week at work,” I lie. “The usual stuff.”
“I know what’s the matter,” says Ruth. John shoots her a warning look, his green eyes wide, but she plows right on anyway, actively ignoring his warning. “You miss Carly, don’t you?”
“No,” I say too quickly. It’s not going to persuade anyone, least of all them. I double down with my sour look to prove my point. “I’m fine without her. I don’t need her. I never did. She was in the way in my house, and that’s all.”
Ruth opens her mouth, presumably to make another witty comment. John cuts her off. “She was good for you, man. You don’t have to lie to us. We saw how you looked at her.”
“I was not looking at her,” I say, sharper than I intended. “She was just there.”
“Sure, sure,” says Ruth. “Tell you what, I’ll break out the cheese.”
She steps away into the kitchen, and I feel like I’m being drawn into a trap, like I might be more likely to talk to John than to her. It’s not true. I don’t know why either of them want me here when I’m clearly the worst person to socialize with ever, but they haven’t kicked me out yet.
“You don’t have to tell me,” John says, taking a sip of his own coffee and recoiling as it burns his tongue. “It was obvious to us you liked her. It’s okay. You should call her sometime.”
“I’m not going to,” I say through gritted teeth.
It’s like they’re sticking their fingers into an open wound and pulling. Just as I thought I’d started to get over her, John and Ruth are interfering, making it feel worse all over again.
“Let’s just move on, okay?” I say. “She’s not coming back. I don’t miss her, and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter because she’s gone. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, okay,” says John, sitting back, and when Ruth returns with the cheese, he gives her another look. This time she listens.
“Italy was fabulous,” she says with a grin. “You should go to Europe sometime, Gabe. It would do you good to get out of the country.”
I grunt, and she sits down beside me, pulling out her phone. The lock screen is a sickeningly sweet picture of her and John locking lips on what looks like some Italian terrace.
“Let me show you some photos.”
She spends what feels like an age flicking through pictures, showing me the ocean, the buildings, the people, the pizza. It does look great. And if I was in ever so slightly a better mood, I might even say so.
But I’m not in a good mood, so I don’t say anything.
It’s enough that I’m here looking, isn’t it?
In every photo they’re in together, they look so happy. It makes my breath catch like there’s a hand in my chest squeezing my heart. These are my best friends, and it hurts to see them together because it reminds me of everything I’ve lost.
Why did I have to get attached to her? Why couldn’t it have been fun and nothing more?
That’s all it was meant to be.
After an eternity, Ruth puts her phone away and moves on from the honeymoon subject. “What are your plans for the week?” she asks. “Doing anything good?”
“Just work,” I say simply.
“Why don’t we go out together?” she says. “We could go bowling.”
I try not to react positively to that. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction. But the three of us used to be a formidable bowling team.
“We could take a picture for Carly,” she says.
“No,” I snap. “I don’t want to go bowling. I don’t want to talk to Carly.”
Ruth’s eyes soften, but she’s barely even recoiling, like she was expecting that reaction from me. “Let’s still go out,” she says. “It’s not good for you to be at home dwelling all the time. About anything, not just her.”
I frown and clench my fists, trying desperately not to agree. “Fine,” I say. “Let’s go bowling.”
“Good,” she says. “You’re a grump, Gabe, but you’re our grump.”
“You can’t push us away this time. We won’t let you,” John adds.
All I can do is sigh. “Thanks,” I grumble, but I mean it genuinely, and from the shining looks in their eyes, I know they know it.
Because I do. They helped me cope with loss last time. This is just another loss, just another thing to let them help me with. Even if I don’t want to, they’re going to make me feel better.