Chapter 7
The trailer is filled with smoke, probably because I’ve got half a cigarette lit in one hand, a beer in the other. Pat’s slouched on the other end of the couch, tapping ash into an overfilled tray, some record of a band he likes playing in the background.
“Christ, this place is a mess,” he says through the haze of the weed he’s got rolled up into a joint, even though he’s the one who knocked over a bottle of beer last night.
“Yeah, that’s sorta the theme.”
He laughs like that was the funniest thing he ever heard and I join in.
Until there’s a knock at the door.
Pat glances at me. “You expectin’ someone?”
“Nope. Probably Gary, he’s been around a lot. ‘s fuckin’ weird. Maybe he’ll go away.”
Pat giggles. “I can’t believe your mom is doing a cop.” Another knock. Louder. Insistent. He groans, getting up to open it, ignoring my protest.
And then his whole posture changes. “Uh… hey, Diana.”
Fuck. No.
“Is Lily here?” I hear from the front step. Pat looks back at me, and I shake my head, mouthing no, but he’s already holding the door wider.
“Yeah, she’s here. Come on in.”
“Pat, wait,” I start, but he raises his eyebrows like deal with it, then grabs the rest of his beer off the table. “I’ll give y’all some space.”
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the air between us charged with something I hate. Diana is standing in my living room for the first time, looking totally out of place. It pisses me off.
He could’ve at least left the beer.
“You haven’t come by the garden.”
“Guess I’ve been busy,” I mutter, watching the record spin.
Out of the corner of my eye, she hesitates, then takes a few steps closer. “Lily, I didn’t mean for any of it to sound like that.”
I scoff. “Sound like what? Like I’m some easy slut you do what you…” I don’t continue, remembering what happened, how I felt. It has my buzz wearing off quick.
She takes another step, and I can smell her, that sweet perfume she’s worn forever. “I was scared,” she admits. “And I said something stupid.”
“Go away.”
She shifts her weight, eyes darting around the room like she’s searching for something to look at besides me. I take a sip of warm beer to fill the silence.
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come.”
“Damn it, Lily, I’m sorry.” Her tone, her use of a swear word, makes me look up against my better judgment.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I wanted to do.”
I stub out my cigarette, keeping my tone mean. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be fine.”
“I don’t expect that.” She closes the distance between us, stopping right in front of me. I don’t look up. “I… I miss you. I thought we were starting to build back our friendship and now… it feels like I ruined things again.”
“Maybe that’s for the best.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?” The room goes quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the sound of gravel crunching under tires outside. Diana twists her fingers together, like she doesn’t know what to do with them.
“You can hate me,” she says finally. “I know I deserve it. But I’m not going to stop trying to make things right. I miss you, Lily. These last few weeks have been the most fun I’ve had since I lost you and…”
“You didn’t lose me. You left me.” I don’t mean for the words to sound as broken as they do, but I’m a little high and a little drunk and I’m exhausted.
Diana’s face crumples. “I know I did. And I don’t know how to fix it. I just don’t want you to hate me anymore.”
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the weed, or the way her voice shakes like she’s about to cry, but something in me cracks open at her words. Unwillingly.
I can’t even look at her when I mutter, “You make it real damn hard to hate you, you know that? It’s annoying.”
When the couch dips beside me, her hand brushes my shoulder, tentative, waiting for me to pull away. “Is this okay?”
I should tell her no. That I’m mad. That I’m hurt. That I hate her. “Do what you want, Diana. You always do.”
She exhales shakily, then slides closer until her arm wraps around my back. The record still plays softly, crackling in the background as she rests her head on my shoulder. “You smell like cigarettes.”
“You smell like candy. Makin’ me hungry.”
She laughs, quiet, and nervous, and then it fades into a more comfortable silence. Her hand finds mine, fingers tracing the calluses from my pencils. “I really am sorry, you know.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, staring down at our hands. “I know.” I let out a long breath and lean into her, pressing my face into her chest. She holds me as tight as I need her to.
Listening to her heartbeat thud against my ear, with her hands running through my hair, it feels stupidly safe. Like being a kid again on her bedroom floor, laughing about nothing until we couldn’t breathe.
“I missed you,” I say against her, the words sounding muffled, but she understands anyway.
Her arm tightens around me. “I know.”
We must’ve fallen asleep. The record’s long since stopped spinning and the room has fallen into darkness. Diana’s breathing is slow and even where my head rests on her chest.
It’s peaceful. Perfect.
Until the front door bursts open.
Laughter spills in, high and sloppy, followed by the unmistakable sound of my mom’s cheep heels on linoleum. She shushes her guest even though she’s the one being loud.
“Kid’s probably passed out anyway.” My mom’s disgusting boyfriend says, and there’s the sound of them kissing.
I groan, burying my face deeper against Diana’s chest. “Jesus Christ.”
Diana wakes up stiff under me, her heartbeat picking up. “Lily?” she whispers.
“Ignore them,” I mutter, shame threatening to creep in. “They’ll go to her room eventually.”
They take their time.
There’s the sound more beer bottles opening, the crash of something falling over, more laughter. Diana raises her head, her eyes darting toward the kitchen, wide, like she’s watching something she shouldn’t be seeing.
She knew my mom, once. Back when we were kids. When Mom wore dresses and hosted parties. Back when people didn’t whisper about her.
Now she’s ten feet away, giggling with a drunk man who isn’t my dad. Diana doesn’t say anything, but I can feel it. The shock, the pity.
I hate that more than anything.
“She brings home anybody willing to buy her a drink these days. Far cry from the Evelyn Price you knew, huh?”
“You’re not like her,” she says quietly.
“No shit.”
Mom disappears down the hall, door slamming, followed by another round of giggles that break off into moans. I swallow the nausea that creeps up my throat and look back at Diana. Her cheeks have turned a bright pink. “What? Never heard your parents doin’ it?”
“Well, to be fair,” Diana says white teeth showing as she smiles despite her discomfort. “I don’t think my parents have done it since Clara was conceived.”
I snort, surprised that she could muster up the ability to joke about her parents fucking. “Lucky you.”
The noise from down the hall grows louder before it quiets again, i scrunch my nose in disgust and sit up from where I’m sprawled across Diana.
Diana sits up too, looking at me all weird now, like I’m delicate or something. “I’m sorry you have to be here for that.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I grab the old beer from the table, take a swig that tastes fucking awful. “Just another night at the Price house.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
I shrug, setting the empty bottle down so hard it rattles. “Fair’s got nothin’ to do with it.”
For a while, neither of us says anything. Mom and Gary must’ve tired each other out, nothing’s come from her room in a while. Diana shifts, her hand finding my knee as she looks at me with a serious expression.
I don’t slap it away. Yet.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” she asks, when I’m about to tell her to spit it out.
“Used to.” I lean back, staring at the ceiling. “Not anymore.”
“I never believed what they said about you.”
“We don’t need to talk about this.”
“Yes we do, look at me, Lily,” she says, fierce, her hand sliding up to squeeze my thigh. My traitorous body doesn’t mind that at all, but I push that thought way down. So not the time.
“I should’ve defended you. When those rumors started, I knew it wasn’t true. I knew you weren’t—” she cuts herself off, frowning like she’s angry even now. “I just didn’t say anything. I didn’t want them to turn on me too. God, that sounds awful, doesn’t it?”
I stare at her for a second, the raw panic in her eyes, the way her nails are digging into my leg, she’s so worried that I’m angry that she isn’t even noticing.
Hearing her say that, admitting that what she did was wrong, goes a long way. But I’m not letting her off so easily. “Yeah,” I say finally. “It does.”
She flinches, but she doesn’t pull away, instead, giving me this sad smile that makes me feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.
“I deserve for you to be mad at me, to hate me.”
“You do.”
There’s a beat of silence before she keeps going, words spilling fast, like she has to get it out and she thinks I won’t let her.
“I didn’t think you were a virgin because I thought you and Pat were…
you know. You two are always together, and you’re—” she gestures at me like that means something.
“You’re cool and confident and so pretty.
I assumed. Which was stupid. I didn’t even ask before I touched you like that and I am so so—”
I know this is supposed to be serious. That Diana is on a roll, apologizing for all of her wrongdoings, but I can’t hold it in. I burst out laughing.
I can’t even fucking breathe.
“You thought I was dating Pat?”
She gives me her signature pout. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say between giggles. Maybe I’m still a little high. Or that was especially hilarious. “That’s… wow. No offense, but crazy.“
“You were right, though,” I add, trying to calm down. “I’m not like you. I’m not saving myself for anybody or whatever. I don’t think I believe in marriage.”
Diana frowns. “Why not?”
I shrug. “Could you imagine me as somebody’s wife? Folding laundry and having dinner ready by five? I can’t cook, I’d burn the house down.”
“You would not,” she says seriously. “Maybe the food wouldn’t be edible, but you wouldn’t burn the house down.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She looks at me weird again. Like she’s seeing something inside of me I’m not sure I want her to. “You’d be a good mom,” she blurts out. “You’re patient and you’re fun and… you’re better with kids than I am.”
I blink, caught off guard by the direction of this conversation. “What the hell are you talking about? I can barely take care of myself.”
“That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be good at it. You’re good, Lily. And your heart is so big. Even if you don’t think so.”
I stare at her, the words hitting a little too close to places I don’t let myself go. I can’t have a family, love, it’s not in the cards for someone like me. I have to make peace with that. I don’t need her bringing it up.
“Okay,” I say, my voice suddenly rough. “That’s enough of that.”
She looks confused. “I’m serious.”
“I know,” I pull away from her hand still resting on my bare skin. “That’s the problem.”
I feel itchy all over and too warm at once. The buzz I still have is starting to make me feel claustrophobic. “You don’t get to say shit like that.”
“I’m sorry, Lily. I just meant—”
I know what you meant,” I cut her off, rubbing a hand over my face. “I know you mean well, Diana.” I huff out a laugh that sounds as broken as I feel. “But you don’t know when to stop.”
She folds her hands in her lap and stares at them, her bottom lip quivering in the dark room. The silence stretches. Too long, too heavy. I hate it.
Especially between us.
So, without saying a word, I flop sideways, my head landing on her shoulder. Diana stiffens for half a second, startled, before relaxing beneath me.
“Lily…” she starts, sniffling as she brings her arms up to hold me.
“Shut up,” I mumble. “I’m tryin’ to sleep.”