7. BLUE #2
She dug a tissue out of her oversized purse and handed it to me. I took it, wiping my mouth slowly before crushing the damp paper in my fist. When I finally looked up at her, I let out a weak laugh.
“Let’s just say you lied so well they actually considered me a good candidate.”
I straightened, carefully stepping around the puddle of vomit at my feet.
“Even though this sounds like the perfect plan, I don’t think I can do this.”
“Why?” she asked quickly, her wide doe eyes already glistening, as if she was preparing to beg me to accept it. “It’s good money, and it’ll get us close to Dante’s brother.”
“I…” The words caught in my throat. “I never…” I squeezed my eyes shut, then let out a slow breath.
“I have a fear of deep sea.”
She blinked twice while staring at me.
“I’ve never left the coast,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “I’ve never swum further than I could stand. And if I can’t see what’s underneath me…” My fingers curled tighter around the crumpled tissue. “I panic. Sometimes I pass out.”
She raised one eyebrow as her lip twisted to the side.
“Is it really that bad?”
“Yeah.” I said. “It’s bad.”
“But how bad?”
“Bad enough that if someone needed saving, I’d probably let them drown.”
She chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”
I nodded, then shook my head.
She slipped her hand under my arm and gently pulled me away from the port. As we walked, she rested her head against my shoulder. I think she needed someone close, just as much as I did.
We wandered along the right side of the coast, closer to the farmer’s market. The only sound between us was the crunch of pebbles and dirt beneath our sneakers. I looked at the cliffs that led down to the beach, lost in thought.
I missed Annie.
This was the first summer she wasn’t here.
The memory pulled me back to 2001, to the night of the Light Festival.
She was quiet. Usually, she was bubbly, saying whatever came to her mind, but that night she barely spoke. She reached into her purse, pulled out two bottles, two sheets of paper, and a pen, then sat down on a rock.
She handed me one of the papers, then passed me a bottle. She turned to the sea and fixed her eyes on the dark horizon before asking, “Do you ever think about what would happen if we were just… gone?”
“Yes,” I said. “Many times.”
I leaned back against the rocks, stretching my legs out in front of me.
“What do you think they’d think?”
I watched the tide pull thin ribbons of foam back into the darkness, as if the ocean couldn’t decide what it wanted to keep. Somehow, I knew it would keep our secrets.
When Annie was around, my phobias were easier to swallow. She had a way of quieting the noise in my head. Knowing how the world looked through her eyes, and how much it saddened her, broke my heart a thousand times over, but somehow healed me at the same time.
“They’d probably make us into better people than we actually were.” She let out a quiet laugh, but it sounded worn. “They’d probably say we were the light in every room we walked into.”
“You really think so?” I chuckled. “I don’t think they’d say the same about me.”
“That’s what people do.” She shrugged. “They sand down the sharp edges. It’s easier that way.”
A breeze rolled in off the water. She turned to me.
“If no one has ever told you this, I’m lucky to have you. And you light up my whole world, not just a room.”
“I’m lucky to have you, too.” I smiled.
The sound of the ocean soon blended with footsteps behind us.
A hand landed on each of our shoulders before a woman with pink hair dropped down between us.
The scent that clung to her hit me instantly, sandalwood and tobacco, so familiar it almost felt like a memory.
She glanced toward Gianni and Oliver sitting on the cliffs, and a smile tugged at her lips when her eyes found Oliver.
“Nikki,” Annie said, pulling her into a tight hug. “We missed you.”
She turned to me. “And you? Did you miss me, Gabby?”
I chuckled. “Not really.”
“Are you still holding a grudge because I had sex with Oliver?” she laughed. “We were both drunk. It was a moment of weakness.” She turned her head toward the cliffs again, her gaze lingering over him.
I let out a slow breath and shifted away from her. My heartbeat climbed into my throat. I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck.
“I don’t care that you slept with him,” I said with a sigh. “What I care about is that you did it in my bed while I was in the next room taking care of my brother. You even had the audacity to leave the door wide open. The one night I needed both of you, you were busy fucking behind my back.”
“He never gave a fuck, so why are you still so worked up about it?” she asked. “Besides, we still helped you out, and we even washed the sheets.”
I laughed out loud. “Thank you, Nikki. You’re such a good friend.”
As she turned back to Annie, Annie looked at me instead, her eyes quietly asking if I was okay.
I nodded and looked back toward the cliffs.
Nikki had grown up with Gianni and me. I never saw her as a good friend, but she was always around, and for a long time, I was grateful for that.
When you’re lonely, and no one is truly by your side, you hold on to people who aren’t really your friends.
You naively convince yourself that one day you can change things.
You spend years trying to prove yourself to people who simply don’t give a fuck about you.
Then, the moment you trust them with a piece of yourself you’ve kept hidden from everyone else, they use it to make themselves feel bigger than they are.
That was when I realized I was better off alone than with someone beside me who had everything and still felt the need to compete with me, because even having everything was never enough.
I made only the briefest glance over my shoulder, but it was enough.
I saw him drinking with Gianni on the cliffs while he watched me and Nikki from a distance.
His eyes were half-lidded, drifting between us and the bottle of whiskey in his hand.
Between my blinks, he’d take another sip, then lean back and stare at the sea.
His shirt hung open to the middle of his chest, and every so often he’d glance my way before turning his attention to the night sky. Even from that far away, I could make out the tattoo on his neck.
Veni, vidi, vici.
Two olive branches framed the words, as if he were some kind of God.
I came, I saw, I conquered.
Touché for a douchebag.
It should’ve said: I came, I saw, I fucked.
Because he wasn’t a God. He was just another fuckboy who thought he could play one. And Nikki, just like everyone else, was another girl in a long line that he fucked, hoping she’d be the one who turned into something more.
I turned to her and smiled.
“I forgive you. Not because of what you did, but because I pity you. You’re still in love with a man who will never love you.”
I stood, resting a hand on Annie’s shoulder. Without a word, she passed me a sheet of paper and a bottle. She knew I’d still want to make a wish.
Only this year, it was different.
Before I left the rocks behind, I leaned against the cliff and wrote:
“I wish I never met Oliver Sinclair.”
I pulled the cork from the bottle, rolled the paper tightly, slipped it inside, and sealed it again.
A single tear slid down my cheek, but I wasn’t crying for him.
I was crying for me.
I pitied myself because no matter how hard I tried to be a good friend, a good sister, a good daughter, a good person… In the end, everyone left.
I threw the bottle into the sea and wiped my cheek.
From that moment on, I stopped believing in promises made by anyone but myself.