Chapter 8
eight
MAYA
“Please tell me why you’re so upset?” I beg, joining Ellie on the edge of her bed.
“God, I don’t know.” She flops down onto her back. “I swear I wasn’t this hormonal even when I was pregnant.”
Tears are still streaming down her face. I want to hug her, but I know not to during a flare. It’s one of those rare times when I have no idea how to help her. I feel like a failure.
“Was it the dog? You don’t want one?”
She rolls over to face me, adjusts a pillow under her hip.
“Of course I want one. That was the cutest puppy I’ve ever seen in my life. She was like a little floofy penguin.” She sniffs a few times, getting back some composure. “I just…I just thought about how Theo has been taking care of Stevie so much on his own, and then he went and got me a dog even though he knows he’ll be taking care of it too. The guilt is just so heavy. I feel like I’m being crushed by it. He’s too good to me. Too good for me. Too?—”
“Hey!” I cut her off, reach for a pillow to smack her with but stop myself. “Don’t you dare talk about my best friend like that. Theo might be borderline fictional, but he loves you. And I know how happy it makes him to take care of you. You have never been a burden to him. Not even a little.”
“But how do you know that? How can you be so sure?”
“Because it’s the same for me.”
“What?” New tears shimmer in the corner of Ellie’s eyes. It almost hurts that she doesn’t already know this.
“Look, Theo likes to argue that he loves you more than I do, and yeah, he knew you first. But I will always debate him on that. Because you’re my sister, El. Of course, I wish–I mean, I would love for you to never be sick, to always be healthy, but I still enjoy taking care of you too. Do you know how rare it is that I have any excuse to spend a day lounging on the floor watching Gilmore Girls anymore?”
She laughs but I don’t think she really gets it. I don’t know how else to explain it to her. That being there for Ellie is part of what makes us a family. We don’t need to share DNA to know that we will always have each others’ backs. Maybe she doesn’t realize how much she has helped me over the years, talking me down every time I spiral over a guy, letting me share in her holiday traditions, or keeping me company when I’m at my loneliest.
But helping Ellie through a flare has never felt like a burden, never felt like work. Besides constantly wondering if I could help her in the…magical sense, I’ve always enjoyed taking care of her, doing anything I can to alleviate her pain.
Her hand reaches for mine, a light hold alerting me to how badly her fingers must hurt.
“Have I told you how happy I am that you’re here, My?”
“Maybe. But you can always tell me again.”
Once all the tears are dry, I go downstairs to make myself and Ellie some peppermint tea.
Hoping that Theo won’t mind, I join her back in bed and we scroll through old photo albums from college.
“I still can’t believe we ruined that dress for craft night. It haunts my dreams to this day.” She’s referring to the YSL sequin dress my mom had sent me to wear for some charity event in San Francisco. We’d run out of supplies and I really wanted to put something sparkly on my favorite denim jacket, so we tore up the dress like it was a paper bag. My mother is still horrified, and I still think the crazier thing was to spend over six thousand dollars on a dress .
“In my defense, I still wear that jacket and I always get compliments on it.”
“Yeah, probably because those sequins are made from actual stardust.”
She swipes the screen on her iPad to a new picture.
“Ahhh,” I whine. “Don’t make me look at him. Worst sex of my life.”
“Really? Freddie from Econ 201? I always thought he was so cute. And you definitely never told me you hooked up.” She points an accusatory finger at me.
“I was too embarrassed. Just wanted to forget it ever happened. He was like…an aggressive moaner. Oooooh baby, yeahhhh baby, oh oh oh ,” I imitate.
“Eww, please stop!”
“You have no idea how many times I said that to him,” I say with complete sincerity.
Ellie chuckles for a moment but then her eyes focus on me.
“What?”
“It’s just funny,” she says, her eyes glinting. “Worst sex and best sex. Both guys ended up being ones you wished you could forget. You’re like Goldilocks. You need a dick that’s juuuuust right.”
It takes me a moment to understand her, but then I remember her saying the same thing a few days ago. How I told her all the details about the best sex of my life. Why don’t I remember that? If I can still picture the worst sex so clearly, the best should still live in my head on repeat, no?
“Who are you talking about?” I ask. “I really have no recollection of that conversation.” Or the sex, sadly.
“Really? Like two years ago. I think it was not that long after you moved to New York. I remember because you called me and were so excited you barely made any sense, just that you had the most amazing night but you weren’t even going to say his name because you didn’t want to jinx it. That you were already getting too far ahead of yourself.” She gives me a knowing glance. Getting too far ahead of myself with men has always been my modus operandi.
“I seriously don’t remember that at all.” Suddenly my stomach flutters, and not in the good way. What if I have memory loss? Early onset dementia? A brain tumor?
“Well, that’s what you wished for.”
Everything goes quiet. All the little sounds around her house turn into a faint ringing in my ears. Time freezes while I consider her words. That’s what you wished for.
“What did you say?”
“Honestly, I’m kind of happy you don’t remember. The guy turned out to be a jerk and ghosted you, even after you stayed up all night pouring your hearts out to each other. I mean, I get that some guys just want sex, but why pretend with the feelings? He must have been a real psycho. When you were here for the fitting you were so upset about it, you even said you wanted to forget you ever met him. So…way to manifest.”
I wanted to forget I ever met him . My brain is doing backflips trying to find any little sliver of a memory, any tiny detail I can come up with to let me know I didn’t give myself actual amnesia. But I’ve got nothing.
“Ellie, I need you to think really hard. Did I say I wanted to forget I met him, or did I wish for it?”
“What, like on a star?” She giggles at this as though it’s just a little joke. Not like I might have actually erased my own memories. What the fuck? “I don’t remember the exact wording,” she continues. “But as soon as you said it, we moved on to wedding talk and I never heard you mention him again. I still never got his name.”
Is it possible? Could I have wished the memory away? Magically made myself forget any feelings I had for a man who blew me off?
More importantly, is that what I really wanted?
I’m so lost in thought that I barely register when Theo gets home. But I make my way to my room, tuck myself in bed, all while wondering what other memories might be gone from my mind.