64. Lyla
Chapter sixty-four
Lyla
The worst days are those you wanted to end before they even began. Mondays already sucked, but this one exceptionally sucked since I woke up tired after a third night of not sleeping. I barely made it to Literary Theory, only to discover the barista at Dunkin made my order wrong. All an emotionally spent woman wanted was an iced matcha with blueberry and oat milk, and the man behind the counter forgot the syrup. To add to my misfortune, I found out the hard way that he also used regular milk in my drink.
I entered a shitshow before noon, so when Charlie offered to order Campus Pollyeyes, I almost cried on the spot. She knew the basics about my conversation with Deacon and why he hadn’t been around the past two days. Since Charlie always had an opinion about everything, her silence was a loud enough answer. I knew it was only a matter of time before she grew tired of my stoic reactions. All I did was bask in the results of my own decision by moping around my bedroom. Charlie would slip me tea and food like I was some troll living under a bridge, communicating only through eye contact.
Charlie gave me a ride home from campus, and while I was trying my best to engage with her story about running into No Style Kyle at The Union, the savory aroma of cheese and chicken breadsticks was causing my nausea to spike. The box was warm on my legs, and I fought the nerves brewing in my stomach. Ever since Deacon left on Saturday, my anxiety had been all over the place, making it hard to eat. I was a bundle of nerves, ready to snap at the next altercation, and I was staying away from the one person I knew could calm me down.
“Does he still have his New Balance shoes?” I asked as we pulled into the parking lot.
Charlie looked at me, shocked that I had any comment at all. “Yes, bitch. He still has his shoes.”
I laughed, focusing on the shimmer of positivity and hoping it would be enough to push the negative thoughts aside. Once I got the ball rolling, my mindset was easier to shift.
Charlie snatched the food from my lap once the car was in park. “And he can still pull off the ‘90s dad look, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t. There’s a reason social media wasn’t invented until after the dawn of the matching windbreaker suits. The world wasn’t ready for anything in that era to go viral.”
“Okay, Usher. You would know about going viral!” She took off up the stairs, and I followed close behind her.
“In my defense, I haven’t seen anything about that—”
Charlie shifted so I could walk in front of her, her eyes begging me for an explanation. In front of the door was a small bouquet of red roses. They had a card tied around the stems, but it wasn’t necessary. I already knew who they were from.
Don’t think I forgot just because I’m not there.
I like you a lot,
Deacon
“Jesus, Lyla,” Charlie practically growled over my shoulder. She unlocked the door and placed the food on the counter. Her tone was gentle, but it didn’t lack the urgency. “He’s pretty amazing, you know that? What are you doing ?”
The ball might’ve started rolling, but the flowers brought it to a dramatic halt. Deacon had given me flowers every Monday since our first conversation on campus. My heart hammered in my chest, and I felt the tingling in my fingertips. It ran up my arms as my mouth went dry, the nausea settling in my stomach as I tried to figure out what to say next.
Charlie threw her hands up in the air, her voice growing louder at the time it was taking me to answer. “You haven’t said anything other than you guys were taking a break, and he left. Why are you doing this? Is there something you’re not telling me? Did he do something? Should I hate him? Put a hit out on him? Why else would you sabotage this—”
“Because I’ll never be enough for him, Charlie!” I snapped, the pressure behind my eyes allowing a few tears to slip. I placed the flowers on the counter to steady myself. The crumbling had started, and there was no stopping it. “I’ve never been enough on my own. I’m either never enough or too much—there’s no in-between.”
My exhales turned to heaves. Becoming too lightheaded to stand, I shifted to sit with my back against the wall, slowly sliding down until I was on the floor. I brought my hands to my forehead and closed my eyes. I was spinning, and I was afraid if I opened my eyes, I would pass out.
“I’m sorry this is happening,” I cried. “I always try to push this away so you don’t have to deal with it—”
Charlie gently pried my hands away from my face, and when I opened my eyes, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. I focused on the blue gemstone in her necklace. It was easier to zone in on an object while the thoughts filtered through my head. The more my eyes fluttered around my surroundings, the harder it was to relax. I needed something that required no attention, and Charlie’s necklace was the perfect distraction.
I wasn’t sure how long we both sat on the floor, but Charlie waited until I made eye contact with her to speak. The corners of her mouth dipped into a slight frown, and she squeezed my hands. “I’m just going to start from the beginning of my thoughts, and you tell me if I should stop, okay?”
I nodded.
“This—” She gestured to the small space between us. “When this first happened, you told me it was no big deal and then disappeared into your dorm room for a weekend. You never brought it up again, and I didn’t want to ask because we had just met at the beginning of the year. I know you keep parts of your life from me, and over the years of being your friend, I’ve accepted that. You choose to avoid relationships and anything that would bring you closer to people—especially men.” Her mouth lifted into a small smile. “We’ve been friends since freshman year, Lyla. What just happened a few moments ago . . . the episodes as you like to call them”—she sighed—“I know they happen more than you admit.”
Charlie reached above her, pulling the box of Campus Pollyeyes from the counter. She opened the lid and offered me a cup of my favorite ranch dipping sauce. “Can you tell me a little more about them?”
A small, tired laugh forced me out of my stoic gaze. Relief washed over Charlie’s face as I reached into the box for a breadstick .
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Charlie,” I admitted in a raspy voice. “I have my first therapy appointment on Thursday—” I paused to gauge Charlie’s reaction. I felt okay to continue when she nodded reassuringly and bit into a breadstick. “You know, since you started from the beginning, maybe I should do the same.”
“I’d like that,” Charlie said. “Tell me as much as you want. And Lyla?”
I raised my eyebrows as the throbbing behind my ears started to subside.
“I’ve never once felt like I had to deal with anything. I just want to make sure you know that.”
As Charlie listened to the first chapter of my saga, I could see the desire to gather the torches and pitchforks behind her bright blue eyes. I left nothing out. I admitted to thinking that everything that happened with Hunter was my fault; that I fed into the incident because I was too young to understand it. I told her how I confided in my best friend Anna, only for her to make me feel like I was making a big deal over nothing. I topped off the introduction to my first round of trust issues with the fact that they were still dating.
Once I started sharing, everything else came effortlessly. Hearing my thoughts put into words offered a feeling I wasn’t expecting to experience—relief.
Charlie knew about my parents and how my dad had no interest in my life until he found out he could control me with the one thing my mom never had—money. She tried not to look disappointed when I said my mom was forced to be the default parent, and I appreciated her objective response. Eventually, the natural energy flowed between us again, and when a pathetic chuckle escaped my chest, the two of us burst into hysterics .
“I needed to throw in a fake boyfriend so my dad could have someone else to approve of!” I wiped the tears from my eyes and took another bite of my breadstick. “Me on my own . . . it’s not enough for him to give me something I’m not even sure he planned to give me in the first place. But as soon as I showed up with Deacon, suddenly it’s okay ? And now that we’re”—I squinted at the ceiling—“is this considered a break? Do people still do that?”
“Babe, you can call it whatever you want,” Charlie stated confidently. “I personally don’t do breaks, but to each their own. As long as Deacon is at least in the running, I don’t think he cares what you call it.”
The pressure behind my eyes returned. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”
She scoffed. “For what?”
“For not trusting you with this part of me sooner. Maybe things would’ve been different for me if someone else had known about it.”
Charlie reached for my hand and squeezed. “You got screwed over by your best friend and had a dickhead high school boyfriend. You don’t owe me any apologies for having boundaries.”