Chapter 23 #2
But then I cut myself off. Because… I do remember. At the time, I was less concerned about Braden than I was about my ruined project. But in the fringes of my mind I can remember the sound of him heaving near me in the parking lot hedges, like the most awful soundtrack to one of my worst moments.
Jenna purses her lips in disgust as we both remember the scene. “I think he’s spiraling again, but this time it’s too much. But… why wouldn’t you tell me? I can’t lie… I’m struggling with the idea you could tell my little brother about this but not me. Since when did you two get so close, anyway?”
I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment. Why am I more embarrassed about Jake than Braden? I grab my cup of milk off my side table and chug the rest to try to get a handle on myself.
“Oh, well Jake’s been tutoring me in calculus.”
Jenna shakes her head. “Wait, what? Like, I know Jake’s smart. But so are you, so why would you need him to tutor you?”
I wave her comment away with one hand. “Braden and I used to do math together. I guess I depended on him more than I thought.”
“Ah,” she says, then pauses to think for a moment before a strange look takes over her face. “I’m not sure how I feel about you and my brother…”
“Jenna, no. He’s been a good friend through all of this.”
She narrows her eyes at me assessingly. “Alright. I mean, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing in the world now that I think about it. And I guess if I couldn’t be there for you, I’m glad he was. Plus, he definitely doesn’t spiral about stuff.”
“Jenna—”
But she waves me off. “We don’t need to get into that. Anything else I need to know? I mean, the Braden thing is HUGE, and I can’t get over how crazy that is. I never saw that coming.”
“Well…”
Earlier this morning I’d agonized over whether to tell her about my parents, but then I realized—this is Jenna.
Of course I need to tell her. So I do. I tell her about the fighting behind closed doors, about my dad being gone for months, about their announcement, and my dad’s apartment.
I even tell her about the blonde on Instagram my dad had his arm wrapped around.
The last point is what really sends her into a tailspin.
“I don’t believe it. Your dad? No way. He was always Mr. Mom when we were little and took us to the park and the library. I can’t imagine him cheating. No way. Show me the pic.”
I shrug and pull out my phone, then navigate to the picture he was tagged in. She grabs the phone and scrutinizes it closely.
“Wait, I know her. She’s in a show Sarah loves and she’s always talking about it. I’m pretty sure she got married about six months ago, and her husband is a hunk. No offense to your dad, but there’s no way she’d leave her husband for him.”
Sarah, one of her volleyball teammates, grew up in Australia until her family moved here right before high school. I assume she means an Australian TV show because when she mentions the name it doesn’t ring a bell.
Jenna googles the show and pulls up the actress’s Wikipedia page in less than a minute.
“Yep, married.” She hands the phone to me, and I see the screen filled with a beautiful beach wedding. Her husband is definitely a looker.
I deflate. I’m not upset he’s not cheating, of course, but it had seemed like an easy thing to point to in order to explain their choice to separate. If he’s not leaving Mom for someone else, then… why?
“Maybe he’s not cheating, but I think they’re still getting divorced, Jenna.”
“Av—” She pulls me towards her and wraps me in a hug. “It’s going to be ok.”
I nod against her shoulder and let myself relax into another hug from my best friend this morning. Why did I ever avoid this? It seems like total madness now.
We hold there for a few more seconds then pull apart.
“I’m glad you told me everything,” she says.
I bite my lip nervously. “Actually…”
“Avery James! There’s more?!”
I launch into a confession about Analiese coming over to my house to watch Wuthering Heights the weekend I was supposed to go to Jenna’s volleyball game.
I include the detail that Analiese and I seem to have been connected on Connection Services, and that the study date ended with Analiese thinking I was ashamed to hang out with her.
In the spirit of total transparency, I also tell Jenna how Analiese called me a coward.
Jenna sighs. “You’re not a coward, Avery.” She pauses, considering. “Well, maybe a little.”
I wince.
“But I appreciate your honesty. I guess I can understand where you’re coming from—you felt trapped by all the things you didn’t want to tell me,” she adds.
“Exactly.”
She tilts her head thoughtfully. “And now that I think about it… it makes sense you’d be connected with Analiese. You two are a lot alike.”
A scoff immediately rises. “Excuse me? We are not. I thought you and I were friends.”
Jenna tuts at me. “And I thought you were trying to turn over a new leaf today? And anyway you are alike. You are both motivated high achievers, both organized, both on the swim team. AND you both had crushes on Braden before you started dating him.”
Wow, I’d forgotten about that. A memory of seeing Braden read an overly amorous (in my opinion) valentine from Analiese in fifth grade clearly surfaces in my mind. Maybe Braden was the origin of the unspoken competition between us.
Fine. Maybe we do have some similarities, though I think it’s quite the exaggeration to say we are “a lot alike.”
“I think you should be friends with her,” Jenna continues. “You should apologize for making her feel like she wasn’t valued as a friend that day and keep talking to her.”
My face scrunches in distaste, which doesn’t escape her notice.
“No, listen. I think Connection Services is on to something here. You guys are mega compatible as friends. And, I’m pretty sure her parents got divorced a few years ago, so although that may not happen to your family—and I really hope it doesn’t—it’s still another thing you two can relate to one another about.
Maybe you actually need her right now. Who knows, maybe she needs you too.
I don’t think she has a lot of friends.”
I abruptly stand and walk to the window, gazing out over the wintery neighborhood towards Braden’s house.
It’s true that Analiese doesn’t have a lot of friends, but I’d always assumed it was out of choice—that she was too busy or too snobby to condescend to fraternize with the rest of our age group.
This is the first time I’ve ever been confronted with the idea that perhaps there were deeper reasons for her actions.
And if there are, it would explain why she had such a strong reaction that day we watched the movie.
If she wanted to be friends and thought I had ulterior motives or looked down on her in some way, it would make sense for her to get defensive and lash out. I would do the same.
I turn back to face Jenna. “Alright. I’ll try.”