Chapter 10 #3
Annie popped the lid off of the ice cream, handing Max the carton and one of the spoons. “You get first bite, obviously. It’s your ice cream.”
Max leaned forward, taking the container, gliding the metal spoon across the flattened surface to gather the right amount of ice cream on her spoon.
Annie’s eyes were glued to her as she moved the utensil to her mouth, the chocolatey, peanut-buttery taste sweet on her tongue.
She relished the bite, handing the carton to Annie.
“Okay, so I’m just going to dive in. Please stop me if you have questions.”
“Context first,” Max interjected, surprised by Annie’s directness, but not at all put off by it. It wasn’t the directness itself—Max actually loved it—it was the way it made her feel, like she had earned a level of Annie’s trust. “Who are the main players?”
“Primarily my high school ‘friends,’ the trajectory of my life, and how this town makes me feel like I can’t breathe,” Annie said bitterly, scooping out a large spoonful of ice cream.
“Winery asshole friends?”
“Yeah.” Annie nodded, spoon in her mouth.
It took her a moment to swallow the bite, and Max grinned at the sight of the tiniest bit of chocolate lingering on her lower lip.
“I—I shouldn’t have gone to Leah’s party tonight.
I don’t know why we do this. We all call each other friends like it still means something—like we still know each other.
But we don’t. Or at least they don’t know me anymore.
The version of me they know is a buttoned-up eighteen-year-old who was too afraid to tell them how I really felt.
” She handed the carton to Max, who took it, spoon pausing at her lips as Annie continued.
“But the thing is, I think they liked that version of me more than who I am now,” she finished, toying with the spoon in her hand.
“I’ve tried. Since I’ve been back, I’ve tried to pick back up where we all left off, but it just reminds me of how I’ve never quite felt like I fit in here. ”
“Is it a bad thing not to fit in here?” Max asked, dragging her spoon across the chocolatey rippled surface.
Annie rolled her eyes. “You know the answer to that. You’ve seen what McCallum’s like.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Max clarified, the carton passing between them as she took a moment to consume the bite on her spoon before continuing. “I meant, like, for you personally. I guess, though, that opens the door for the additional question. Why does it matter if you fit in?”
Annie took a moment to craft herself a perfect spoonful with exactly the right proportions of cookie, brownie, and ice cream. “Because I live here,” she answered simply.
Max arched an eyebrow, kicking her leg out from under her, keeping one knee tucked.
“I think that then opens the door to the shit-show that is the trajectory of my life,” Annie said with a sigh, holding the carton back out to Max.
She held up a hand, indicating that she was good for now, and Annie shrugged.
“Sweet. More for me.” She took a few more bites then placed the lid back on the carton and set it on the coffee table along with their spoons.
Max glanced to the container then back at Annie before popping to her feet. “I’m sorry, that’s going to bother me if it’s sitting there melting while we chat.” She dashed into the kitchen, returning a moment later with two water glasses in hand, offering one to Annie.
“I believe we were at shit-show life.” She playfully nudged Annie with her foot as she settled into the couch again.
“Right. I don’t even know where to start with that,” Annie admitted.
“I’m not really sure how to sit with the complete explosion of the vision I had for myself.
For the first time, I have nothing calling out for me, no direction I’m supposed to work towards.
It’s always been the checklist: Go to college, get a good job, fall in love, get married, have a baby.
And I did it. One by one I was working my way through that list. And then to be yanked back to square one again?
My type A achiever personality hates that. ”
Surprise washed over Max. She hadn’t been expecting that from Annie. No, she had been bracing herself for Annie wanting to talk more about the remnants of feelings for Caroline, or something still holding her back, but not this.
“Oh. So it’s just–uh–the not being where you thought you’d be in life? And not the person you were with?” she asked, taking another sip of water.
Annie followed suit, taking a sip from her own glass, using the moment to gather her response.
“It’s strange. I don’t hate Caroline. I was angry—I was fucking furious—but now, with some time, I feel kind of sad for her.
Is that weird?” She tilted her head as she asked her question, her blond top knot shifting.
“I’ve never been cheated on, but I don’t think so.”
More silence passed between them as Annie sipped her water.
“I thought I’d miss her more, you know? We were together for seven years.
She was my person, and I was hers…or at least I thought I was.
But I’m not entirely sure I ever really knew Caroline because I don’t know if Caroline even knows who she is.
I think I pretended not to see it for all those years, pretended not to feel the gap that had always been between us.
Getting her to have a deep conversation was like pulling teeth, and somewhere around year four I gave up trying, and we just started existing on the surface.
It worked because I kept getting to check things off my list.”
Max didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure if there was anything she could actually offer Annie here other than her ear to listen.
“Caroline cheating on me was the best gift in the worst packaging—which sounds so strange to say out loud—but she gave me the jumpstart to a second chance at building a life that feels like me. Like how I want it to look, which is equal parts amazingly energizing and terrifyingly paralyzing because I can literally go in any direction and I don’t know which way is the correct way. ”
“So I think that brings us back around to my question,” Max said softly. “Why does it matter if you fit in here? If you can go anywhere. Is this place really that important? Or is it where you happened to land to heal?”
Neither of them said anything for a few long moments as Max watched Annie’s delicate fingers fidget against the side of her glass.
“You make some great points, Martin.” Annie grinned slowly, the playful use of Max’s surname sliding effortlessly between them.
“I already told you,” Max teased, “I’m usually right about most things.”
That earned her a small kick from Annie, paired with the flash of impish annoyance behind her eyes.
“I know. Why do you think I came here?” she said simply, the trust in her words settling over Max.