Chapter 32
Lark
I’ve heard you can’t have joy without having pain and that the two are irrevocably entwined. I never believed in that theory . . . until I met Harbor.
Joy and pain.
Harbor and me.
Forever intertwined.
Over the past two months, quiet moves have been made behind the scenes for us to live together. Not that I think Amanda is unaware. She’d have to be oblivious at this point. But we haven’t said anything out loud.
I’ve made an effort to be in my apartment on the afternoons when I know she won’t be rushing off to work, and we pick a night each week to spend together. Once I go to bed, secretly, it’s torture not getting on my bike to ride home to Harbor.
But I stay to be a good friend so Amanda knows our friendship didn’t end when I fell in love.
Just as it didn’t over the years during the fifty times she did.
I don’t say that to her, though. No use drudging up the past. I’m her best friend and stood by each time with open arms when those short-lived romances ended.
At just three months with Harbor, she could claim that I’m not in a better position than she was when they broke her heart.
She’d be wrong. I may have found love when I wasn’t even looking, but Harbor and I have built a foundation that only grows stronger with every hurdle we jump and day that passes.
But it’s not a competition, so I can’t imagine her not being thrilled for me.
I curl my legs under me on the couch and take a sip of wine. We’ve seen You’ve Got Mail a million times, but it never gets old. Since it’s one of her favorites, I thought it would be great to use as a buffer for what I perceive she’ll think is bad news.
She glances at me and then does a double take. “What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“You’re pregnant.”
My head tweaks on my neck. I didn’t expect her to say that. “Why did you state that like it’s a fact?”
“You’re not pregnant?”
I roll my eyes and then narrow them. “So when it comes to me, the assumption is it’s more shocking to not be pregnant?”
“Pretty much,” she says, nodding profusely. “Dane even has a bet on it.”
“I’m going to need more wine for this.” I finish the glass and get up for a refill. I pull the bottle from the fridge. “Why are you two betting on me?”
“Well . . .” She hems, her eyes returning to the TV. Leaning forward, she pauses the movie, and then she haws before angling to face me. “Want to know the truth?”
That has to be one of the most annoying questions ever. “Why do people ask that? Who’s telling others to lie to them?”
“I do. For instance, when I’m in a crowded bathroom and I’m feeling good, but I need a compliment to boost my courage before approaching some guy I think is cute, I’ll ask how I look and tell them to lie to me.
” Apparently, this is common knowledge by how she speaks with such authority.
“Drunk women huddled in the bathroom are the best boost a girl can get.”
How did this conversation get so far off the rails? “Indeed, it’s a very supportive community, but let’s loop back to us. You know I’m on the pill so—”
“Accidents happen.” She shrugs.
“Okay, sure. While that might be true, why is Dane betting against me?”
She kicks her feet up on the coffee table like our therapy session has begun.
I’m just not sure who the patient is in the scenario.
“Let’s talk about why Dane’s thinking you’re pregnant, or soon to be,” she says, eyeing me sideways, “is considered betting against you. Maybe he’s impressed you scored a rich Pointe kid. ”
“For someone earning her minor in psychology, you sure do treat it like it’s your major.”
“In practicals, I’ve discovered that I’m really good at it. And I enjoy analyzing people. Tonight, you’re the lucky one.” Lucky one . . . I can’t help but think of Harbor.
I fill the glass to the top because no half-full glasses for me tonight. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
“It’s not me you have to worry about. It’s the baby.”
“Oh my God,” I scoff and take large gulps of wine, but then I realize something. “See? I’m drinking, so obviously, I’m not pregnant.”
“In some countries, wine is culturally accept—”
“I’m not pregnant, and I’m moving in with Harbor,” I say, the words rushing out to end this loop of absurdity we’re caught in. And that ended it all right.
She sets her glass on the coffee table and stands. “You’re moving out?”
My throat thickens, making it harder to speak. “I, um,” I say, gulping. “I haven’t found a job, and our lease is up next month.”
“You’re moving out on me?”
Why’d she say it like that? My heart starts thumping, knowing hurting her is not my intention. “Well . . .” I say, starting slowly. “The lease is up—”
“You already said that, Lark.” She comes to the other side of the peninsula. “You and Harbor are that serious?”
The question takes me aback. “Of course, we’re that serious.”
“But it’s your first real relationship?”
“I’ve dated guys, Amanda. You act like I haven’t. Because I didn’t sleep my way through Beacon doesn’t mean I’m na?ve.”
She laughs, but no humor is found in her eyes. “Is that what you think I’ve done?”
“No, it’s an example of experiences, a comparison of what the expectation is for one against the other—”
“Stop it! Stop being book smart and shit. I may have slept with a few guys, but at least I didn’t fall for their lies.”
Lies?
I take an exasperated breath and slowly exhale. “Is this what we’re doing? You’re going to make up stuff about Harbor to put doubts in my head? For what? To keep me living here a few more months?” My arm flies up from my side. “I leave next summer for med school.”
“If you get a scholarship.”
I’m left speechless.
If. If . . . She says it like I’ve forgotten the deal, like I’m suddenly living in la-la land because I’m with Harbor. I swallow the hurt, and reply, “Yes. If I get a scholarship. Where do you stand with that? Hoping I don’t so I can live here with you for however many years, or . . .?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lark. You know I want you to get what you want.”
“That’s an odd way of saying I believe in you.
” I clear my throat and rub my lips together in thought.
I’m lost on which direction to take this conversation.
I decide I can’t leave what she said unaddressed.
“By trying to sabotage my relationship with Harbor by inferring he’s being dishonest with me will only push me away from you. I don’t want that. Please.”
She pushes off the countertop and retrieves her phone from the table. Her fingers fly furiously across the screen, and then she tosses it to the couch.
Trying to keep my cool, I ask, “What are you doing?”
She shrugs and shoots her nose into the air. “Dane will be over in a minute.”
“Why? He has nothing to do with this.”
“Because you have Harbor to talk to, and I have Dane.”
“I’m sure that goes over really well with Mia.”
“It does, actually. We’ve become friends.”
A shiver of betrayal runs up my spine. “Friends?” I ask, wide-eyed. “She called us whores because she couldn’t grasp the concept that guys and girls can be friends without fucking.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she says, “Guess she figured it out.”
Frustrated, I rub my brow. When I finally look up again, I say, “I don’t like fighting with you.
” Returning to the living room, I try to temper my emotions.
“Forget about Dane and Mia. Let’s not fight.
Let’s talk, just the two of us.” We sit back in our respective spots on the sofa, but Amanda stares at the TV.
The movie is paused on one of her favorite scenes.
It’s one of mine, too. I say, “I wasn’t going to be able to commit to another lease because of med school. ”
“You could have signed a six-month lease. That would have given me more time to figure out what I’m doing after graduation.”
“I could have. That was one option we’ve discussed in the past. The other was me moving home to save money before I leave for med school. It’s been up in the air for more than a year. I’m just leaving a little sooner, but so you know, I’ll still pay my share through the end of this lease.”
With her arms crossed so tightly to her chest and her expression pinched, she appears to be an impenetrable fortress refusing to even listen. If I can’t get through to her, explain my side, or come to an agreement, this is a waste of time. “Are you going to say anything?”
“I’m not sure what to say anymore. I miss the girl you used to be. You have no loyalty now.” Her words slap me across the face, leaving me stunned. She pushes off the couch and walks down the hall, slamming her door behind her.
I sit there for a few seconds, not moving and unable to figure out what went wrong. I knew this wouldn’t make her happy, but she was getting a paid apartment to herself. Our nights to hang out were still going to continue, but I guess I didn’t even get the chance to tell her that.
I take my phone and text Harbor: Can you pick me up?
I won’t stay here tonight. I’ll walk if I must. I don’t care how cold it is outside. I get up and go into my bedroom to take a mental picture of my stuff. That way, I can move forward and start planning what to do with all of it.
Harbor’s text pops up: Be right over.
Some of my stuff will return to my dad’s, and some I’ll take with me to Harbor’s .
. . to our apartment. I’ve come to terms with the opportunity of saving money.
He’s convinced me that I don’t owe him anything other than being his girlfriend, and even then, there aren’t expectations attached to the living situation.
I can get a job and pay half or take the money and put it into savings for next year.
“Hey, guys,” Dane calls from the front door. I hear it close behind him and his footsteps coming down the short hall.
I’m folding clothes on the bed, a bunch of freshly washed but wrinkled T-shirts I forgot to get to the last time I was here when I say, “Hey, I’m in here.”
He looks in, his eyes scanning the room. “Hear there’s trouble over here.”
“No trouble in here, but you might want to check on Amanda.”