Chapter 19 Naomi
Chapter nineteen
“I really think it could help!”
“Would you let me handle this?”
The muffled voices were coming from outside the door. Buried under a heavy comforter on her childhood bed, Naomi opened her eyes but didn’t move.
“Why do you always get to be in charge of everything?” Riley said.
“Let’s make a deal. When your best friend from Hebrew school locks herself away at her parents’ house for two weeks and you have to drive up to Michigan to see her, I will let you be in charge.”
“But I don’t have a best friend from Hebrew school!”
“So?”
“So that makes your deal null and void because I can never meet the requirements!” There was a long silence, and Naomi imagined that Abigail was giving Riley the raised eyebrow of annoyance.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Riley caved moments later.
“What? Why the evil eye? All I’m saying is that I can be a productive member of this support group. My advice is as valid as yours.”
“Let me guess, your advice involves copious amounts of sex.”
“Maybe.”
“With copious amounts of people.”
“Possibly.”
“All of whom are strangers.”
“You make it sound so awful when you say it in that tone of voice,” Riley whined. “Besides, correct me if I’m wrong—”
“You’re wrong,” Abby interjected.
“Okay, I’m revoking your right to correct me.
As I was saying, I’m pretty sure the last time we were in this situation, my advice was that she get laid and that was exactly what she did, and it worked out splendidly.
Granted,” they said, sounding less enthusiastic than they had moments earlier, “by setting her up on a date with Will, we created this current situation. But that’s really beside the point since the point was that we solved her original problem of being sad over Simon.
Which, sure, I’ll admit was only a temporary fix that may have slightly blown up in our faces, but it worked in the short term, didn’t it? ”
“For the love of—” There was the sound of flesh smacking flesh, and since Riley didn’t cry out, Naomi assumed it was Abigail smacking her forehead in irritation. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Can you please not mention Will or Simon when we go in there?”
Naomi lay staring at the ceiling, wondering if she should let them continue, but deciding against it. Heaving herself out of bed, she shuffled to the door.
“Would you like to come in?” she said as she opened it. Her pupils protested the sudden influx of light, and she raised a hand to cover her eyes.
Abby, positioned in front of the door to block Riley, turned around with an apologetic frown. “Sorry,” she said. “They showed up at my place unexpectedly as I was leaving. I told them I was going to Michigan, but apparently, they didn’t care.”
Riley brushed their eyebrows with the tip of their finger. “You underestimate me, Abigail. I saw it on your calendar when I was going through your computer and cleared my schedule accordingly.”
The smile that made its way to Naomi’s lips reminded her that even though a part of her didn’t want to talk to her friends, a part of her did. “Why don’t we go into the den?” she said, reaching for a sweatshirt—not her DePaul sweatshirt; that one she had thrown in the garbage.
When she got the nod of confirmation, she made her way down the stairs and into the large but homey den.
Abby had been to her parents’ house more times than she could remember, and they had spent countless hours together in that room.
The rich wooden paneling, plush carpeting, overstuffed sofas, and soft lighting made the perfect spot for building forts, watching movies, and sleeping off hangovers.
She never could have imagined she would share the aftermath of her public humiliation and heartbreak in the den with Abby too.
As Abby took a seat beside her on the sofa and Riley found a spot on the adjacent sofa, the muscles around Naomi’s heart constricted in protest. She had managed to avoid talking about the wedding since her parents had packed her into their car and driven her to their house from the studio.
Now, all eyes were on her, and she knew what they wanted to talk about.
She looked at the group, searching for some other topic of conversation, and settled on Riley, who was wearing a remarkably unremarkable outfit of jeans and a plain gray T-shirt. Their brown hair was gel-free, and a pair of black glasses rested on their face. “Are those glasses new?”
Riley’s hands swung towards the ceiling and then back down onto their lap with a loud slap. “Thank you! How is it possible that you are the first person to say anything to me today? I’m beginning to wonder why I even spend time with you people.” You people was directed very pointedly at Abby.
Naomi could see an amused look in Abby’s eye that undermined the ambivalent shrug she gave. Perhaps as a form of revenge for ambushing her this morning, Abby was having fun giving her friend a hard time. “I just figured you were getting old,” she said.
Riley gasped like they had barely made it above the surface of the water in time. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’m making a statement.”
“And what statement is that, exactly?”
“That they can take my life, but they can never take my freedom. The studio cut my hair, but instead of giving up, I have chosen to embrace my mediocrity. Today, I am average. But the greatest average that ever existed.”
Abby’s lip twitched so hard that Naomi was sure that she would crack. But instead, she managed a reply that was emotionless but still strained with amusement. “You truly rival some of the great philosophers.”
The door to the den flung open, and in burst Becca. “I didn’t realize they made homes this nice in Michigan!”
For a split second, Naomi wondered if Abby had invited her. But Abby’s response answered that question. “Be—what …? How did you even find—”
“Riley told me.” Becca flung herself onto the sofa next to Riley, her cutoff shorts and midriff shirt barely able to conceal what they were meant to.
“Riley!”
“Don’t blame me!” Riley exclaimed, any evidence of recent offenses completely obliterated.
“Why shouldn’t I blame you?”
“Because you shouldn’t.”
“Don’t be mad, Abby. These last few months have taught me a few things.
Like how I need to spend time with people who have worse lives than me.
It makes me … happier.” Becca paused to apply a generous coat of lip gloss.
“I mean, forget Naomi—look at you, Abby. Are you wearing the same outfit you had on yesterday?”
Naomi didn’t miss that Abby’s face turned a shade of bright red as she brought a hand up to her cheek. If it had been the two of them, alone, Naomi would have let it go and then tried to extract the story from Abby in a roundabout manner. But between Becca and Riley, Abby was out of luck.
Riley’s eyes widened. “What’s this? That’s not the face of someone who forgot to do their laundry. That’s the face of someone who was doing very bad things at someone else’s place and didn’t have time to change afterward. And come to think of it, you haven’t been around at all this week.”
At first glance, Abby looked affronted but once again, Naomi could see something else lingering behind her eyes. “What are you talking about? I met you for lunch two days ago!”
“Met? More like I went through your calendar, figured out when you’d be at your office, and then forced you to go out with me.”
“I need to come up with better passwords,” Abby said under her breath.
“Not that I would call it a lunch anyway since you hardly touched your food.”
“I told you I wasn’t hungry!” Abby protested.
“Hold on now.” Riley used their finger like a conductor’s baton, first motioning for silence and then leading the orchestra into the finale.
“Disappearing all week. Wearing the same clothes. Not eating lunch? Oh my God. I’ve seen this before.
Abby’s in love!” The finger baton pointed directly at Abby.
“I … I am not!” But the way her skin flushed scarlet across her entire face suggested otherwise.
Naomi glanced quickly at Riley and Becca, trying to silently ask, could it be? “Oh yeah?” she asked, turning back to Abby. “Then where have you been?”
“I was … in … mourning,” Abby said. “For you. Who can think about a thing like clothes and lunch after what Will and Simon did to you?”
It wasn’t until Naomi heard their names and felt her stomach start roiling again that she knew she had been happily distracted for a few minutes.
“You said Will and Simon. You heard it, didn’t you, Naomi?” Riley sounded a little too jolly for the situation. “Abby kept telling me not to say Will or Simon in front of you, and then she’s the one who goes and says it. You all heard it, right? Will and Simon? Straight from Abby’s lips?”
“Yes, we get it. Thank you, Riley.” Abby’s red face turned a shade of gray.
“It’s okay, Abby.” Naomi tried to reassure her even as her meager breakfast threatened to resurface.
“I want to make sure everyone heard it,” Riley said, lips pouted like a petulant toddler. “Because Abby acts like I’m always the troublemaker. But around her, everyone is a troublemaker because it’s impossible to keep up with all her rules. Even she can’t!”
Becca nodded. “I heard it!”
“I didn’t want to bring up … them if you weren’t ready to talk about it,” Abby said, giving her a woeful smile.
“But since we have,” Riley said, adjusting their glasses like they were bringing the conversation into focus. “I want to know what’s been going on! While Abby’s been in, er, mourning, I’ve been out of the loop. Well, except for Team Naomi gossip, of course.”
Naomi’s brows knitted together, unsure what he was referring to. “Team Naomi?” she repeated.