She is shaking, as her shoulders collapse, and she tries to hold herself together. There are arms around her, immediate and warm, as the unbelievable, blistering heat of her tears burns her throat. Somewhere, she is babbling something—confession, useless explanation—and immediate words of consolation fill the air around her, but none of it is any comfort.
And the truth, it’s there on the ground.
That was the before, and here is the after.
“—should you... speak to him, maybe? Just, talk it through—”
“He won’t want to speak to me,” Lili whispers against the pillow. Around her, Jackie holds her close. “He won’t.”
It was a blur in the hall earlier: Her sobs shook her body as she fell, her friends trying to hold her; Jackie grasping her face, wide blue eyes,Oh, Lili, love; stronger arms pulling her into a warm chest when she couldn’t stop crying, the scent of Jamie’s laundry detergent, memories of undergrad,shh, Li, it’s alright, the run of Amina’s hands over her back, trying to soothe; the sudden, collective intake of breath when Lili finally whispered,I cheated on him; and the sense that they had been waiting for this—that they had all been waiting for this, not just for her breakdown, but for her to ruin this—
Now, it’s just Jackie.
The others went home. Jackie quietly had them leave. Murmured goodbyes, the sound of the door closing, when her sobbing would not calm, forehead pressed against her knees: too many people, touch that isn’t him.
“Who... who was it?” Jackie asks now, hesitant. “Who did you—I mean, with who—”
“No one important.” Her voice sounds hollow, even to herself.
A pause holds in the air between them, hushed with sadness. They’re in Jackie’s room, curled up in her bed. It’s dark, with the lights out in theirapartment. Their street is calm outside. Just the occasional siren, the soft tinkling chime of mist from Jackie’s diffuser in the corner.
She knows what question is coming next.
“Why... ” Jackie trails off; tries again. “Why did you do it?”
“Before he did,” she whispers.
“What do you mean?”
“I got... scared,” she whispers against the pillow they’re sharing.
“Scared, love?”
“I thought—” She breaks off, an inhale;breathe, Lili, breathe.“I thought it’d be—easier, you know... if I left first—because he—he said—he said—”
Her throat contracts around a fresh rise of tears, the weight of absence growing heavier and heavier.Absence, something she’d always registered as lack, a thing to ignore, rather than a presence so profound it makes her struggle to breath, as she tries to repeat what he said—what he said, words after a gala, green of the park—as she remembers, instead, unfamiliar skin against hers, another man inside of her.
Between her fingers, Lili grasps the duvet tighter, crying. “Oh, love,” Jackie whispers. She nestles her face into Lili’s hair, holding her closer. Her own frame shakes with Lili’s sobs. “It’s okay, love, it’s okay... I’m here, it’ll be okay.”
Little words, kind uselessness.
Clutched against her chest, her phone is silent.
“...some tea?”
Lili blinks, waking. A familiar, feminine voice: Jackie. It’s morning.
“Sure,” she whispers. “Please.”
A quick press of lips to her hair. Leaning down over her, Jackie blocks out the sun for a moment. Her skin smells fresh and showered, leaving a soft fragrance of her shampoo and outdoor air, as if she’s just gotten back from a run.
In the kitchen, the kettle clicks on. “Jasmine okay?” Jackie calls out. “Or do you want matcha, or something herbal, or anything—”
“Jasmine is okay,” Lili replies, sitting up in Jackie’s bed. Her body feels hollow. Under her nails, there’s still dirt from her farm shift. She checks her phone.
No missed calls, no new messages.
“Hey.”
