Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Making friends and keeping friends are two very different skill sets.”
—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,
Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes
Ten of us Ubered to a popular country bar and dancehall called Cowboy Depot. The place was packed. Peanut shells littered the floor. Loud, thumping rockabilly music blasted from the live band. And, look at that, I fit right in with my cowboy hat and boots.
It wasn’t my kind of place, but it turned out after the three glasses of wine with dinner and the two Texas Mules under my belt, I liked a lot of things I didn’t normally like.
Even Missy. Turned out Missy liked me, too, after a few cocktails.
For some reason, neither of us could figure out why we didn’t like each other.
It all seemed so foolish. Alcohol gave us so much clarity.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Missy said, throwing her arms around me. “I love you, Iris.”
“I love you, too.”
“I didn’t want Aidan to even invite you.
” She blinked margarita-clouded eyes at me.
“He’s always ‘Iris this’ and ‘Iris that’ and sometimes it…
it feels like a competition or something.
Do I measure up to Iris? I don’t. I’m a lot shorter than you.
” She wobbled on her feet, and I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Iris, I-I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“There was never a Western theme, but I told you there was and… and… I picked the naked dress for you to wear to the wedding. I know you hate it and so do I, but I just wanted to make sure you looked terrible, just really ugly, so everyone would think, ‘Why would Aidan have ever been interested in her?’”
I stared at her. “Oh.”
“All I want is Aidan to stop thinking about you.” She was full-on crying now, loudly. “I just wanted him to only think of me.”
“I don’t want him to think about me, either.” Now I was crying too, and somehow, then we were hugging and babbling over each other with more apologies and confessions and total nonsense.
People were looking at us. But we didn’t care if our mascara was running and our faces were blotchy. This was about friendship, dammit.
We finally got ourselves under control long enough for Missy to announce to the whole world that she needed to pee. It was on our way to the bathroom that the problem started.
The place was so packed, we were jostled and knocked around as we navigated the route to the bathroom.
A man stepped right in front of us. He was enormous, not just tall, but hefty, too.
Like O-line for the Oklahoma Stars huge.
Missy ran right into the back of him, full body contact.
She bounced off him and tumbled into me.
I caught her before we both crashed to the ground.
Mr. Hefty turned around, his thumbs tucked into the loops of his jeans. He was scarier from the front. “What the hell?”
“Sorry,” Missy squeaked out, shrinking back. “I didn’t mean to. You just stepped right in front of me, and…”
Her voice trailed off and he took a lumbering step toward us. He bent down, way, way down, and put his face in Missy’s. “Watch where you’re going, you idiot.”
“Okay,” Missy whispered, visibly trembling.
Why was she apologizing to him? Just because he was bigger and stronger. Not today, Satan. With a growl, I stepped in front of Missy and pushed her behind me. Her bird-like body would probably break if he breathed too hard on her.
“Excuse me, but you stepped in front of us. You’re the one who needs to apologize, you jerk.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I’ll wait.”
“What did you say?” He’d been drinking, and judging by the glazed-over look in his eyes, he’d been doing a lot more than Missy and I had. Maybe on a typical day, he was a mild-mannered mail carrier or something. But right at this moment, he was nothing but a bully.
“Oh, you heard me. But let me say it again real slow. You”—I pointed at him—“need to apologize to”—I pointed behind me—“my friend.”
The people around us were staring now. The other women in our group had joined us, all of them watching the scene unfold with giant, glassy eyes.
“Lady, I don’t know who you think you are.” He took a step toward me. I swallowed but held my ground. “But you and your little friend need to get out of my way.”
I planted my feet. “No.”
He grunted and then… then… he put his hands on my shoulders, and he pushed. I caught myself before I fell. All the rage I kept bottled up inside took off its earrings and said, “Oh, no, he didn’t.”
Suddenly, I remembered that self-defense class Mae had made me take before I started college. We’d learned a few strategies to use if we were ever attacked. I grabbed onto the first one I could remember.
He bent down to yell at me again and without overthinking it, I lifted my elbow up and rotated my hips with as much momentum as I could get. By some miracle, I struck him right on the chin.
He fell like a log. Just dropped at my feet. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or him. He stared up at me in shock, one of his big, meaty paws rubbing his chin.
Behind me, the bridal party cheered and a few other people clapped. Mr. Hefty got his voice back and began to curse up a storm. Missy marched up to him. She lifted her foot and stomped down on his, ahem, family jewels. He howled and curled into the fetal position. “Now who’s sorry?”
She turned to me and we high-fived like two feisty women in a movie who’d just taken down the bad guy.
Anyway, that’s when security arrived.
It was three o’clock in the morning by the time we took a ride in a police car and got booked into the system and body searched (I don’t want to talk about it). But instead of jail, we were put in the sober tank… because alcohol.
By the time I got my phone call and help was on the way, Missy and I had sobered up some and reality was hitting us.
We sat side by side on a bench in the small room, our shoes in a pile in front of us.
Missy had passed out asleep on my shoulder earlier on.
I’d tried to sleep, too, but didn’t have much luck.
“Hey, you two,” a guard said. “Let’s go. Your ride is here.”
Missy jerked and sat up, her eyes wide and panicked. “I didn’t do it, Officer. It was all Iris’s fault.”
“Thanks,” I said drily. “Why don’t you run me over again with that bus?”
Wiping a bit of drool off her face, she stood slowly. Both of us silently put on our shoes and quietly followed the guard.
Abe and Aidan were both waiting for us, hastily dressed in wrinkled t-shirts and shorts. Aidan rushed forward and for a half second, I thought he was coming for me, but it was Missy he grabbed and hugged.
“You’re okay,” he said, the relief evident in his voice. “When I heard, I was so worried.”
“It was so scary.” Missy sobbed.
“I know, honey, I know.” Aidan rubbed circles on her back. His head snapped up and he glared at me. “How could you do this?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Missy would never get in this kind of mess. This is all you.” He set Missy aside and stalked toward me. “You’re the one who caused all this.”
Who was this guy? Aidan never lost his cool. He was always, always in control of himself.
“I… no… it wasn’t all my fault.” My voice wobbled. “It just happened. We were drinking and having fun and then…” Suddenly Abe was at my back, a hand resting on my arm.
“You’re supposed to be my best friend.” Aidan shoved his fingers through his hair, his whole body vibrating with anger and something else—hurt.
I snapped straight up and stared at him.
Suddenly, he felt like a stranger with that wild look in his eyes.
For the first time, I didn’t find myself wanting to make excuses for his behavior.
For the way he treated me. For the way he was speaking to me right now.
Maybe, just maybe… enough was finally enough.
The moment of clarity crashed into me all at once, a wave of emotions. All those emotions, those opinions, that attitude, I’d stuffed away so that Aidan would love me. After all, he was the good guy, wasn’t he? Which made me, by default, the bad guy.
It wasn’t like he ever demanded anything.
He wasn’t loud; he didn’t yell or give me the silent treatment.
His ways were smaller, quieter. Little comments, a pointed look.
They all added up after a while, though, wore a person down.
Eventually, I just did what he wanted because it was easier.
His opinion slowly became mine. Until I wasn’t sure where he ended and I began.
I guess that was how I started to lose myself.
The problem was that I wasn’t sure if I’d found myself yet.
But that stopped now.
“I don’t want to be your best friend.” I shoved a finger in his chest. “I think you even know that. You… you just kept stringing me along, making me think that maybe, one day… I have spent three years waiting for you to realize you made a mistake when, all this time, I should be thanking you. It would have been a disaster if we’d ever married. Can you even imagine?”
Something like shock flitted across Aidan’s face.
“Keep going,” Abe said quietly.
I was tired of lying, tired of hiding. “And… and I don’t want to talk to you at three in the morning when you can’t sleep. I don’t want your texts about how you miss me. And you know what else? I hate pink roses. Hate them. And I think… I think I might hate you, too.”
Aidan jerked back like he’d been punched. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m tired of pretending,” I said. “Tired of how you always treated me like something you could change and mold to exactly what you wanted. And the one time, the one time I said no, you decided we were through. And you’re still trying to change me!
No more, Aidan. No more.” I grabbed Abe’s hand and dragged him toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Behind us, Missy said, “Pink roses? You always get me pink roses.”
“I thought you liked pink roses,” Aidan said.
Missy’s voice cracked. “But I thought they were just for me.”
“Hey, hey, hold on.” Abe stopped once we got to the parking lot, his eyes concerned as he searched my face. Gently, he used his thumbs to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Come here.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. My whole body melted. I rested my head on his shoulder and allowed myself this one small comfort. The anger and adrenaline were waning now, only to be replaced by hurt and frustration. I needed to get out of there before I lost it completely.
I sniffled and pulled away. “Thanks.”
“Let’s get you back to the hotel.” He took my hand and led me to his car. “So do I start calling you by your prison number now, or…”
“Too soon. Way too soon.”