“Well, your view of seriousness was always a little skewed, so…”
She puts her hands in her pockets and looks at the ground. “I tried to talk to you, Jasmine. I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”
“I’m sorry, but why should I believe this wasn’t always your plan, Amari? To come home and do this to me?”
She shifts on her feet but doesn’t say anything.
“What about in the center, when you were setting me up?” I continue.
“Setting you up?” She sounds genuinely confused, but I don’t buy it.
“Yes, setting me up. And Sam. And maybe even Tanya?” I’ve been running the last year back through my head for weeks now. Over time, it became undeniable that Amari has always only looked out for herself. I expect her to deny the accusations, but to my surprise, her shoulders slump in defeat.
“I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you. It wasn’t about hurting you. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I just really, really wanted to be with you.”
I try to imagine how she must have felt at the center, always chasing whatever made her feel less alone until she met someoneshe felt a spark with. There was a time it would have felt good to hear her say it was only because she wanted to be with me. But now, the words feel hollow.
“Amari, it’s always about whatyouwant, not what’s best for anyone else,” I point out. Tears start filling my eyes and I don’t have the energy to stop them.
“That’s not true, Jasmine. Don’t cry. And I’m sorry about Sam. I regretted it immediately.”
“I missed my mom’swedding, Amari, and you’re saying it’s because you wanted to spend more time with me. We could have done that out here,” I say, gesturing to the world around us.
“We still can. I’m sorry,” she says. Her eyes are wide and pleading, but it’s too little, too late.
“We can’t.”
She looks like she might cry. I take a deep breath.
“I’m not sorry I got to know you, Amari. I don’t know how I would have made it through that year without you. I’m grateful for the time we spent together, and for the real feelings you shared with me,” I say. “But I’ll never forgive you for lying to me. And for what you did to Sam,” I continue, wiping my cheeks.
“Jasmine, I—”
I put my hand up to stop her. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
She doesn’t respond and that’s okay. I can’t imagine what she would even say. Because while I’m grateful to Amari for many things, our relationship has run its course. I start back to the car.
“Jasmine!” Amari calls out.
I turn around.
“I meant most of it,” she says with a shrug.
“I’m sure you did,” I say. “Goodbye, Amari.”
“Later, Jas,” she says, and disappears into the house in a shimmer of glass.
I slide into the passenger’s side and slump in the seat. The tears come quickly again, and I let them.
Kayla turns the music on and drives off. “Proud of you, sis,” she says.
Kayla reassures me that I did the right thing a few more times once we’re home, and honestly, it feels good to hear. Even though it went exactly as I’d hoped and planned, facing Amari for the last time was harder than I thought.
“So, you gonna tell me about your secret mission with Kayla this morning?” my mom asks as we head out to run an errand. “And why she keeps telling you that you did the right thing?” She looks at me before she pulls off, genuine curiosity on her face.
I don’t want to lie anymore, and this feels like an opening. “I confronted Amari,” I explain.
Her reaction doesn’t give anything away. “I see,” she says. “And how was that?”
