Ezra nods. “She has two of them. Ursula and Tova.”
“Quite possibly the two coolest names I’ve ever heard,” I tell the mayor. “I’ve never heard the name Tova before.”
Mayor Crane takes another puff and adds, “It’s a Swedish name.”
“Yup,” Vyla says, “the most powerful witch in Mapletown fell in love with a Swede.”
“My grandparents werenothappy, but my mom never gave a shit about the opinions of others, so that didn’t stop her.”
“Good for her,” I reply, envious. If I weren’t such a people pleaser, maybe my whole life would’ve turned out differently. Maybe I’d be happier, or at least in less pain.
My stomach aches from laughter by the time I leave the bathroom. It’s a good feeling that gives me hope. That maybe, someday, the sharp soreness in my chest will dull, and I’ll be able to smile regularly again.
I make my way toward a messy table with a handful of empty cocktail glasses. Before I reach it, a hand wraps around my wrist. When I look up, I’m shocked to see Lindsay standing there, for once the most underdressed person in the room, wearing jeans with a hole at the knee and a green hooded sweatshirt. She chews on the inside of her cheek, looking more nervous than I’ve seen her in years. Lindsay Abbadelli is not a nervous person. When she enters a room, she commands it. Not this time, though.
“Linds. What are you doing here?”
“Hey, Nat,” she says, her voice timid. “Can we talk? Outside maybe, where it’s not so loud?”
I nod, my stomach twisting anxiously as I let Dominic know I’m stepping out for a minute.
When I find her outside, she’s standing on the edge of the parking lot. I’m not sure why. She’s not even near her car. I look at her, glancing around. Puzzled. “What’s up?”
The air is chilly, and even without a steady breeze, goose bumps race across my bare skin. It’s about forty-seven degrees, and the skies are clear. Perfect Halloween weather. I wonder if the kids of Mapletown still go trick-or-treating. Do they wear costumes? Or child-size formal wear? Oh my god, how cute would that be?
Lindsay lets out a heavy breath, pulling me back to the here and now. “First, I want to apologize to you, for so many things.” She holds out her fingers, counting. “For losing touch with you over the last few years, for not being there when Rita was near the end…” She huffs a shallow breath, as if she’s in the middle of a cardio workout. “For projecting my bullshit when I forced a sleepover with you out of the fucking blue,”––another quick breath––“and most importantly, for meddling with you and Winston. I never should’ve pressured him to back off, and I never––”
“Excuse me?” I jerk back, hands suddenly shaking. I had no idea she spoke to Winston. The events over the last month suddenly become crystal clear. I step toward her, an unfamiliar sensation growing in the pit of my stomach. “You pressured him? What did you say?”
“Right,” she says, her shoulders hanging lower as she shifts her weight between her feet. “Look, it was totally uncalled for. I know that. But I had just gotten ghosted, and you had just told me about the existence of monsters, and the last fucking thing I expected when I came up here for the weekend was to discover that not only did you have a boyfriend, but you were already living with him in my house.”
The feeling continues to grow, but eases in intensity, just slightly. Rage. That’s what it is.
“None of that excuses my behavior, but I just want you to understand my mental state when all of this came out.” She rubs a hand across her forehead, trying to get her bearings. “I was bitter, and jaded, and so over men that when you told me there was this guy, this one hundred and twenty-something year old guy who was obsessed with you and showering you with orgasms, it immediately reminded me of the situation I was in, and it also seemed seriously shady. As your friend, I questioned his motives. I was trying to figure out what he was getting from this arrangement. I promise I was only trying to protect you.”
That’s what does it. That last sentence. I explode. “What makes you think I need protecting? I’m not a young, impressionable girl, Linds. I’m in my fucking forties.”
She tilts her head, examining me with a pitying expression. “Come on, Nat. Look what happened with Kyle.”
“What about him? That was a million years ago.”
Lindsay fidgets with the string of her hoodie. “I watched him treat you like shit, over and over, and when I thought you’d leave, that surely you wouldn’t tolerate another second of it, you stayed and let him do it again. You gave up your entire life, your entire future to be his babysitter, and you got nothing out of it. I didn’t want you to fall back into old patterns.”
I’m appalled. Not about what she’s saying about Kyle. All of that is true. I put up with far too much for far too long, but the audacity of this woman I trusted, whom I considered one of my closest, if not my best friend, stepping into my life and causing absolute chaos in the name of shielding my heart?
“You wanted to become a nurse, you wanted kids, and it made sense to put all of that on hold when you were taking care of Rita, but you were finally getting back on your feet, andI didn’t want Winston to do what Kyle did and railroad your potential.”
When I don’t say anything, Lindsay rushes to add, “You have to admit that you and Kyl–”
“I don’t give a fuck about Kyle. He’s in the past, and this has nothing to do with him.” I clench my fists, letting the fury that’s boiling my blood simmer over. “What makes you think those are dreams I still want to pursue?”
She looks around the parking lot with a scoff. “You can’t seriously want to be a bartender for the rest of your life, do you? In this tiny–”
“What’s wrong with being a bartender? If I’m making enough to cover my bills and feed myself, why do I have to scrape and push for more? Not everyone is built to climb a corporate ladder, okay? Not everyone wants to become a manager, or a vice president, or a chief of whatever the fuck simply because they’re good at their jobs.” My fists start to unclench, and I realize I’m verbalizing thoughts I’ve had for years but could never articulate. “Some people are happy to remain right where they are, and that’s okay.”
She kicks a rock, looking like the girl I met in college. Weird and direct and brimming with sass. I hate that things are strained between us, but if we’re going to continue this friendship, I need to press on. She needs to know these are my boundaries and I won’t let her cross them again.
“I want to know why you thought you could breeze into my life after years without much contact, pretend like we were the same people we were a decade ago, and destroy the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
