“It hasn’t changed me. I’m still the guy who wants to play video games all night long. I want to watch baseball with my friends and hang out at the comic store. The one difference between me now and me a year ago is now I want to do all of those things with you.”
His words slice through me as I run down the four flights of stairs. The ghost of all the times we walked up them together plays in my head as I round each landing. Our first meeting with my skinned knee. The cucumber fiasco. The night after the family baseball game. Each individual event flashes through my mind on repeat until they surge together in some dejected highlight reel of our relationship.
“I wish I could believe you.” I turn off my phone as I enter the back of the yellow cab though if I’m involved in a high-speed escape.
*
Amanda leads us into her Oakland apartment. “It’s a little messy so no one judge me.”
Even without the warning, my eyes wouldn’t have taken in any of my surroundings. I’m still numb. I made it to the restaurant and thank God for Marissa. She saw my face and realized immediately that I hadn’t been hiding anything from her.
It took me less than a sentence of trying to explain I didn’t want Finn to find me before she had all three of us shoved in my taxi and on our way far from the one area Finn knew where to find me. Our first destination had been Marissa’s apartment, but halfway there we decided it would be the second place he’d search me out. So our cab diverted to Amanda’s, which turns out isn’t far away.
Most of our energy was put into fleeing the city thanks to our confused cab driver, but now in the relative safety of Amanda’s place, they’ll want to know all the sordid details. I don’t blame them, I’d do the same if the situation was reversed, but the thought of reliving my phone call with Finn exhausts me.
I’ve talked Finn up for weeks. Now I have to tell my two closest friends how I’ve been played by a not-secret-to-anyone-but-us billionaire. I’m so stupid. The ride here was mostly quiet — no more than directions passed to our driver. It gave me too much time to reflect on my relationship over the last few weeks.
There were so many times when Finn gave me a hint about his real life, either on purpose or unintentionally. I’ll never know. So many chances for me to question him, but I never did. Baseball suites? The expensive necklace? Why didn’t I at least ask him about his new apartment? I never received an answer to my questions about what he did at RDA. Now I can see how every answer was vague. Best friend or not — what regular employee would have access to a company car and driver as much as Finn did? I assumed at every corner. I was a stupid schoolgirl, too taken and acting like I had my first crush to notice the discrepancies around me. I fell right into the fake little world Finn spun for me.
“Sweetie?” Marissa pulls me from my thoughts as she carefully latches on to my arm and leads me toward the green microfiber couch. I hadn’t made it much farther than the front entryway and the sympathy in her voice almost starts my tears again.
“I have red and white wine, beer, and straight up vodka. Which do we need?” Amanda asks from her kitchen.
“Amanda. It’s 10:40 on Sunday morning. If you don’t have orange juice for the vodka then white wine.” Marissa’s answer is flippant as if it should have been obvious. With as many boy problems as my group has faced lately maybe it should have been. Marissa pushes me down to the couch with a, “Stay here,” before she leaves to help Amanda. I don’t have anywhere else I could go, so I stare at Amanda’s white textured walls in front of me. Her Oakland apartment is newer than mine and the room lacks the small details you find in restored places throughout the bay.
My eyes move and I stare at the checkered rug between the couch and TV. On the third black box from the right is a small hole. It reminds me of Finn’s favorite shirt. He’d worn the simple black t-shirt with Stanford in white letters across the front one night we'd watched television on my couch. I’d commented on the hole in the sleeve. He looked horrified at my suggestion he throw it out, instead explaining it was the first shirt he’d bought after moving on campus and hisprecioushad too many college memories to see the bottom of a trash can.
Which when you think about it is completely fucked up. How does a hole in a rug remind me of my now ex-boyfriend? I’ve never been a sentimental breaker upper, so I hope this isn’t some kind of sign that I’m going to start seeing Finn’s face everywhere I go.
Marissa places a tumbler of orange juice in my hand and wraps my fingers around the glass. She’s always been a heavy mixer, but as I take my first sip I wish she’d splashed in a few more gallons of vodka. Oh well, at least this way I'll be able to have two… or three.
Amanda takes up a spot in the empty maroon chair to my left and Marissa places a hand on my knee from the right side of the couch. Our positions are similar to a few weeks ago when I helped her get through the initial phases of her fiancé’s cheating, but this time Marissa comforts me.
“Tell us what happened.” Amanda breaks the silence.
I’d figured they’d both read the article and knew what happened, but we’ll take the long way on this conversation if we must. "Finn’s a billionaire and he lied to me the entire time.” Maybe not so long after all.
Marissa pats my knee. “Yes, sweetie, we know, but what happened? You obviously didn’t know, so why did he hide it?”
I shrug my answer.
“Is he married?” Amanda leans forward in her chair in anticipation of my answer.
The question catches me off guard and I choke on a drink of my happy juice. “What? No. I don’t think so.”
“Engaged?” Marissa questions.
“Engaged?” I ask back with more horror. Is he? They knew about my relationship before I did so what do the girls know now? Why are they asking me these questions? “No, it's none of that.”
Marissa takes a drink of her own mix and grimaces at the flavor. “Well then what could it possibly be? I saw your face when you walked up to us. I’ve never seen you so upset. Something must have happened.”
Did they not read the same article I did? “Guys, Finn’s a billionaire. As in I can’t even comprehend the amount of money he has, and I work in sales."
“Yes, we read it.” Amanda’s voice sounds dreamy as her gaze drifts to the white wall behind the couch.
“And he lied to me. For weeks. Everything he’s done is a lie.”
