Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning when I walk downstairs I see my mom pouring herself coffee in a to-go mug, and Hunter watching cartoons in the living room. Mom is already dressed in her scrubs, ready to head in for a shift. The morning light glints off the carafe with her movements.
“Dad here?” I ask. He said he wasn’t staying the night, but there’s still a part of me that hoped he would.
She shakes her head. “He’s at his apartment, and he’ll be there all day to handle some furniture deliveries.
I’m sure you’ll see him tonight or tomorrow.
” She pours some cream in and gives me a weak smile.
“I’m sorry for how last night went. That’s not exactly how I envisioned it going.
But if you want to talk about it, I’m here. ”
Talking about the situation with Dad is the last thing I feel like tackling—the conversation with Jenna is already looming over my head. I nod and push the sugar container towards her.
“Thanks for watching Hunter today—and for all the other times the past few months.” Her voice trails off before she adds, “Maybe now that Dad is back you won’t have to as much.”
“I don’t mind.”
She wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a side hug and leans her head down on mine. “How did I get the best daughter in all the land?”
Despite my churning emotions, my lips lift. “Pure luck, I guess.”
She releases me and grabs her bag and coffee. Her movements feel a little measured and slow—maybe all of us are feeling the weight of dinner last night.
“There’s a casserole in the fridge you guys can heat up later. Call me or your dad if you need anything. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
After she leaves, I grab a mug of coffee, loaded with plenty of cream and sugar.
I mosey into the living room and sit next to Hunter.
For a few minutes we sit in companionable silence while his favorite cartoon splashes across the screen.
My eyes drift to the mantle below the TV, where framed family photos catch the sunlight spilling in through the sliding door.
Our smiling faces seem like a mockery of our lives now.
The show pauses.
“Avery, do you think they’ll get divorced?”
Hunter’s small feet stick out of the soft blanket he’s draped around himself, so I reach over and tug it over them.
I take a sip of coffee, considering my answer.
It would be a kindness to give him what I’ve always wished others would offer me: the truth.
It won’t do him any good to pretend everything will be fine.
Our family is changing, whether we want it to or not.
“I’m not sure. Maybe.”
His eyes hold mine for a moment, as if he’s weighing my statement. I must pass the test because he only nods and turns the show back on.
“Jenna’s coming over soon. We’ll be upstairs in my room for a while.”
“Is Jake coming too?”
My stomach swoops. Why does everyone assume I’m hanging out with Jake all the time these days?
“No,” I answer simply.
Hunter looks disappointed but shrugs. “K.”
A couple hours later the doorbell rings.
Dread churns my stomach, but I square my shoulders and march to the door.
Mr. Pi is right—nothing in my life will change unless I start taking steps.
Isn’t that how I tackle schoolwork? I make checklists and to-do lists, accomplishing things one step at a time.
This morning is simply step one in course-correcting my derailed life. I can do this.
The door opens and the crisp air of an almost-winter day in Southern California washes over me; the promise of warmth coming mid-day hangs in the air. Jenna stands looking uncertain, her bag slung over a shoulder. I offer a small smile and step aside, waving her inside.
“Thanks for coming.”
Jenna’s nose scrunches. “That’s what my parents say to clients who come to our house for a consultation. Avery,” her breath catches, “what happened to us?”
She lurches forward and throws her arms around me, tears and sobs spilling onto my shoulder as she bends to envelop me.
My arms automatically wrap around her, and I hold on.
She heaves that way, clinging to me, as we still stand in the entryway for what feels like several minutes.
I don’t mind. It feels good to be this close to her.
Finally, she pulls back and sniffles while wiping her hand across her face. I grab the tissue box off the entryway side table and offer it to her. She blows her nose.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pausing again to wipe her nose. “I just can’t take it anymore, Avery James! You’ve totally ghosted me! ME! We’ve been friends since kindergarten. I can’t let you do this anymore. Whatever is going on, I demand you tell me. Right here, right now.”
I look at my oldest, dearest friend and my heart melts.
Her skin is blotchy from the sobbing, and her eyes shine like brilliant aquamarines in contrast. Her sandy hair is disheveled like she's run her hands through it too many times.
For the first time, I realize just how much Jake and Jenna look alike.
And I love them both. They're both so genuine and feel everything so intensely. How could I have caused her this pain?
“But what if I told you I made snickerdoodles an hour ago, and I have a plate waiting for us in my room?”
She bites her lower lip and narrows her eyes at me—the internal battle between truth and cookies must be epic.
“Fine,” she sighs, “but we’re delaying this conversation for no more than five minutes, and ONLY because there’s cookies.” She points at me the way she does her teammates during volleyball matches when calling out a bad play.
I trace an X over my chest with a finger. “Five minutes, I promise.”
We grab milk from the fridge and briefly check in on Hunter.
He’s moved on from cartoons to video games, and he’s so distracted he barely acknowledges us.
I wouldn’t normally let him veg for hours in front of screens, but these issues with Jenna need attention.
He’s still trying to process what went down at dinner last night. Sometimes he needs a little space.
We settle on my bed and load our plates up with an ungodly amount of cookies each. Jenna moans in appreciation as she eats the first one in a single bite.
“You’ve always made the best cookies, Av.”
“Yes, it’s amazing how things turn out when you follow the recipe.”
She takes the bait and throws a balled-up napkin at me, like I knew she would. It’s a friendly argument we’ve been having for years—I love and follow instructions, and Jenna is much more of a free spirit, which is why she can’t bake to save her life.
“Ok, now spill, Avery. Why have you been avoiding me? I know you have, so don’t try to gaslight me into thinking you haven’t been.”
I take a deep breath and look towards my vision board, wondering where to start—with Braden, my parents, or how my goals are all falling apart?
Jenna follows my gaze and gasps. “What happened to Braden?”
My brows furrow in confusion until I realize the picture of Braden I’d taped to my mirror next to the board is now sporting the villain mustache and brows I drew on it last night. Not my most mature moment.
“Just got what he deserved,” I say coldly as I consume another snickerdoodle. “Actually, no. He deserves worse.”
Her hand flies to her mouth in shock. To be fair, Braden has been a constant in both of our lives for a long time. While Jenna and Braden didn’t talk on their own apart from me, we’d naturally spent a lot of time together over the years.
“He’s been lying to me, Jenna.”
“About what?”
“About… everything, I guess.”
She grabs another cookie and takes a bite, then leans forward, one arm resting against her knee. Her face is concerned and intense. “Explain.”
“Well, you know we made a plan before he left to keep in touch, FaceTime regularly, all that.”
She nods. Jenna does not have the same affinity for organization that I do, but she’s always been a good sport when listening to me wax poetic about my plans. She'd heard extensively about the long-distance-relationship strategy last summer.
“Yeah, so that immediately fell apart. He wouldn’t answer calls and would only text occasionally. Even when we did talk on the phone, it usually wasn’t a video call and it was short and kinda awkward. Then, I found out about Tricia.”
“I hate her already. Go on.”
I grab another cookie too. “I started seeing her in the comments and pictures on his Instagram page and she seemed a little too friendly, if you know what I mean.”
“Mmmhmm.” Jenna wipes the crumbs off her hands and rolls one to signal me to continue.
“And THEN, when I was on the phone with him last week, I heard a girl in the background, and Braden talked to her. He called her Tricia, so it’s the same girl.”
“No!”
“Yeah. To top all that off, Jake helped me figure out he’s been sending me stock pictures of MIT instead of real ones.”
“What?? Why would he do that? That’s insane behavior.”
“Because he’s not even there! Yesterday, Jake and I went over to talk to Mrs. Patel, and she let it spill that Braden never went to MIT. Instead he’s been backpacking across Europe like a homeless hippie.”
“Wow. Just… wow.” She pauses while she processes. “Braden… your Braden? I can’t believe it.”
“I know.”
“Well,” she says thoughtfully, “if I’m being honest, I’ve been thinking for a couple of years now that you two aren’t right for each other.”
My first instinct is to argue, despite the obvious fact that she’s right. “How can you say that?”
“Easy. You guys both spiral over everything.”
“That’s not true—”
“Avery,” she cuts in, “don’t you remember the year your science project burned and we had to evacuate the building?”
Memories of the smoke stinging my eyes and the death stare competition between Analiese and me immediately pop into my mind. Instead of pointing out Analiese’s part in that scenario to Jenna, I simply nod for her to continue.
“Remember how Braden puked in the bushes because he was so stressed out about the whole thing?”
“No, he didn’t—”