Dave
Seriously? I’d never cross that line and put my future career in jeopardy.
Answer the question. Yes or no?
Dave
Carmichael…
She’s your best friend. You two tell each other everything.
Dave
Not everything.
So you didn’t tell her?
Dave
Why would I tell her?
I don’t know, Dave. Call it payback.
Dave
There it is. I’m not as low as you. I’d never ruin a friendship.
Is this you admitting we were friends?
There’s a lapse in her response.
I stop burning a path into the area rug in my room. Inhaling deeply, a looseness in my lungs that hasn’t been there lately.
I want her to say yes. Remember those days like I do. Not that they ever leave me. What should haunt me in my dreams are instead a life jacket thrown to me when I feel like I’m drowning in my brain. Her smile is the top buckle. The way she’d grab my hand and interlock our fingers during a scary movie is the middle buckle. And the bottom buckle is the secrets we’ve kept for each other, the pieces of her she’s only ever given to me, and the ones I’ve given her.
The thing about life jackets is that when you tighten them, you have to be mindful of the excess strap. If not, you can get caught in it, hurting yourself in the process.
My phone buzzes.
Dave
I didn’t tell her.
I’d never do that to you.
Never?
I find it hard to believe, but I try to convince myself otherwise. Give her the benefit of the doubt, as I always do to a fault. I’m immune from anything else.
This could simply be her practicing patient-doctor confidentiality.
Or maybe she means it.
This is Sutton, I force myself to remember.
Between her words, I see the fragments of her promise. Despite what I did to her—for her—Sutton still cares about me.
When you grow up with someone the way we did, they become a part of you, and you grow with them. Sutton is an organ that my body needs. Placed somewhere between my heart and lungs, they adapted her into their functions.
