I nod my head, then remember she can’t see me. “There was no way to stop them, Laine. Like my feelings are a runaway train. They fly forward and I have no chance of hitting the brakes. Even when I try.”
Laine groans softly. “You are so screwed.”
“Basically.” If it weren’t for the years that have passed since I left or the empty house, I could be eighteen again, in love with my two best friends, and terrified of losing either of them if I were to ever make a choice.
Lying back on my bed, I throw a forearm over my eyes dramatically. “Maybe one day soon we’ll all get sick of this dance we do around one another. Maybe,” I say slowly, “they will choose for me.”
Laine snorts. “Please. Do not tell me you just said that.”
I open my eyes and look up at the ceiling. “Fine. I did not just say that.”
“Lennon, listen to me. Whether you know it or not, something inside your body knows the truth. I don’t know that it’s your brain, or your heart, maybe it’s your subconscious. You cannot love both of these people equally. You have to love one of them more than the other. Which one of them makes you feel your heart?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. That’s the god’s honest truth. I love them both. How could I not?
“How much longer are you going to be there?”
Laine’s question releases me from having to think about her prior question.
“Why? Do you want your car back?”
Laine laughs. “Sure do. Your car is a piece of shit.”
My shoulders shake as I laugh silently. “I may never come back. Maybe I’ll ride off into the sunset in your shiny, fancy car.”
“In this daydream, who is riding in your passenger seat?”
I groan audibly and roll over, using a hand to push myself off the bed.
“I’m just messing with you. You make it so easy.”
“Thanks, Laine.” I glance around at the stacks of boxes headed to donation, then out toward the rest of the house. “I better get going. I have a lot more work to do.”
“Do you want me there? Just say the word. I’ll bring wine. In three hours we could be drunk and going through all your mom’s stuff.”
“I really appreciate it, but no.” I don’t want Laine in this house. Laine is from my Second Life, a life I started on my own. It’s unsullied, and I want to keep it that way.
Laine and I hang up. I take a deep breath and go out to the kitchen to make lunch. Last night, on the way home from Brady’s, I stopped for groceries. Not a lot, but just enough to get me through the next few days.
With a plate in one hand and a bag of chips secured between my teeth, I grab a handful of the black plastic lawn bags I found in the garage. I take the stairs slowly, as if even my limbs know how badly I don’t want to start cleaning out my mother’s room. I start in her closet first, pulling item after item off their hangers and stuffing them into a bag. I alternate between taking bites of my sandwich and cleaning, and my mind wanders.
I told Laine it was shocking that Finn and Brady were men now, and I meant it. But I’d already known how Brady had grown, and not from social media. Two years ago, Brady came to Dallas for work.
He was already in town when he called.
He said he wouldn’t accept my excuses, even as my lips were poised to give them.
He asked me to have dinner with him after his meetings finished.
I wanted to say no. I felt guilty for seeing him without Finn. Guilt like that can only be felt if there’s something to feel guilty about. And there was.
We weren’t kids anymore, and I knew that the moment I stepped from my apartment wearing my black dress, the soft fabric pouring over my skin like melted butter.
Laine was gone for the weekend, on her first out of town trip with her new boyfriend. When she came back, I didn’t tell her I saw Brady.
* * *
Two Years Ago
