I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t. I left. I wondered if he was thinking that he had burned bridges with his mother andhis ex-wife because of a woman who was leaving him a few days later.
The next day was Friday,and someone rang my doorbell at 9:30 a.m. Lisette stood there, her face bright red like she had been running.
“Hey.”
“I left work in the middle of my shift,” she said. “And I never leave work in the middle of my shift. So you’releavingSunday? Paul had to text me because apparently you weren’t going to tell me.”
“I meant to tell you last night, but all the stuff came up with Paul…I just…”
“So when were you going to tell me?”
“After you got off work tonight.”
“So you would text me at six, we would hang out tomorrow, and you would leave on Sunday?”
It was the first time I had seen Lisette really angry.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Everything was so messy at the show. I’ve only known since a couple of days ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me right away?”
“I wanted last night to be perfect for you. I thought I would tell people afterwards.”
Lisette nodded, her face flushed. I stepped back for her to enter the apartment. It took her a long moment to speak. “I am so tired of everyone treating me like I’m fragile.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You didn’t think I could handle it if I knew you were leaving so you lied to me.”
“I was just sad, okay? And I didn’t—I wanted you to have one thing—this improv show—go perfectly.”
“And look at how that worked out,” she said. “Perfect show.” Her nervous energy transformed into a different state when she was angry. She was at once perfectly still and also vibrating.
“Listen—”
“But even if…you could still have told me afterwards. You told Paul. In the middle of that total mess with his mother. But you didn’t tell me because you don’t think of me like a real friend. You think of me like a pet.”
“No!”
“I’m not a charity project!”
“You’re my friend.”
“You don’t treat me like a friend! You didn’t tell me when Paul asked you out.”
“Because I was scared. I was scared it was doomed, or that he’d change his mind.”
“Just admit it. You don’t take me seriously.”
“I’m not used to being important to anybody!” I said at last. “In New York, I was important to my sister, but everyone else treated me like this cool friend they brought along with them to make funny remarks. I’m not used to mattering to anybody.”
“Of course you matter!” she shouted. “You’re one of my best friends and one of the only people who gets me. And I’m going to miss you, but I guess you won’t miss me. I’m just some abuse victim who lives in a basement.”
“Not a basement,” I muttered. “A sex dungeon.”
She shook her head. She was not ready to laugh.
“Lisette, can I tell you something? The last relationship I had was with a married man. And I knew he was married. I thought he was going to leave his wife for me. And I am so ashamed of that I couldn’t even tell my sister. I am not looking down on you. You’re like me, in a lot of ways, but you’re better. You’re positive and funny and somehow you don’t let life get you down. And I didn’t tell you I was leaving because I knew my friendship withyou was going to be ending and I couldn’t handle how sad that made me. And I couldn’t handle making you sad. Or the rest of our time together being sad. I was a coward.”
