Page 137 of The Cheerleader

“I’m moving in with Carol at McMahon next semester. Her roommate is moving off campus. I’ve already moved most of my things there.” Her voice is all business now, as if her emotions were all vacuumed up by the loss, leaving nothing but pure strength of will and her survival instincts.

Liz is a survivor. She always was. Except… for the drinking. A fresh wave of worry assaults me. I nod and try to think of what to say.

“I’ll be here if you—whenever you want to talk or if you need anything at all, Liz. Always. I never meant to hurt you.” I let her level a cynical stare at me, and I have to say what I think, how I feel. I have nothing to lose now. “You and Bryan were⁠—”

“You don’t know anything about Bryan and me.”

“I know what Bryan told me, how he feels about me, and how he feels about you.” I stop, and she visibly shakes, her expression cooling off and approaching cold, but I forge on.

“You are more like a sister to him than a girlfriend. And you… “ My resolve hits a bump as her mouth twists with anger, but I force myself to go on because maybe she needs the truth more than a pat on the back. “You’ve been using Bryan as a crutch, someone to bail you out emotionally. You’ve been propping each other up all this time, and that’s not wrong or bad, but neither of you will get anywhere limping along and leaning so hard on each other.”

Her breathing is fast and shallow now, and she explodes, stepping close, backing me up against my bed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You have no idea what it’s like—you and your perfect little life with no trouble and nothing to worry about except which expensive bag to use or which expensive sweater to wear⁠—”

Going against self-preservation in the face of her scary, out-of-control anger, I throw my arms around her in a fierce hug, trying to communicate all my love, compassion, and understanding in this hug because it’s all I have. She struggles against me, but I tighten my arms, straining my fledgling muscles honed by all the stunts and cheerleading these past months.

She’s stronger than I am in every way; except in this moment, she’s drained, empty of her capacity to fight back. She slumps against me, sobbing again like she did last night.

Although I’m not naïve enough or optimistic enough to think all is forgiven just because she’s having this moment of weakness, I am hopeful that there’s some recognition that we still have a bond, that maybe someday she’ll get past the loss and the anger, and we can salvage some kind of new friendship.

But I know she had things going on, the kind of things that make her drink when she shouldn’t, that she needs to resolve before she’s well enough, strong enough to even consider forgiving me and allowing us to be friends again.

She pushes me away and swipes her tears, and I feel the déjà vu moment, knowing she’s going to walk out the way she did last night, except this time she’s walking away from our friendship, cutting me off for who knows how long. Maybe forever.

“I’m leaving. I don’t need you and your false friendship.” She picks up her bag and turns for the door. The sting of tears is unbearable, but I bear it, still holding back.

When she turns back to me, I meet her hard stare with all my compassion bared, completely vulnerable yet prepared for the final devastation of whatever she has left to say or do to me.

“I’ll call Pete from Carol’s phone before I leave for home to let him know you’re no longer interested in cheerleading. I don’t intend to associate with you in any way from now on, so don’t call me.”

I nod, allowing the sadness and loss to stab me. Maybe I think I deserve it, that the loss is the price I need to pay for choosing a relationship with Bryan. The price I knew I’d need to pay, though I couldn’t have predicted how deeply I’d feel it.

“What about Bryan?” I force myself to ask because I know she’s not going to cut him off.

She levels an evil smile at me. “I still love Bryan and I always will.” Her smile almost disappears, turning into something more like a sneer. “And he’ll always love me.”

She rushes out the door and disappears, leaving the door wide open like a gaping wound.

When Mom and Dad arrive to pick me up, relief at seeing them blankets me. Being hugged by them each in turn, the strong, solid feel of their arms and the warmth of their kisses and smiles all shore me up. As we carry my things out to the car, their presence and joy at seeing me give the fortitude to push aside the loss and confusion that engulfed me in the wake of my encounter with Liz. Thoughts of losing her friendship, the loss of cheerleading and all my connections fade away, receding like they’re from a different world, a temporary place.

As we pack my bags into the trunk of Dad’s car, a spark of gratefulness that he didn’t sell the big old Cadillac gives me an oversized boost of comfort like I’m desperate for every crumb of stability and familiarity, grasping for my old world—the world of my childhood.

Dad closes the door as I huddle in the back seat, ensconcing me comfortably in the past with the scent of leather I remember so well from family trips. I want to hang on to this feeling of being cocooned inside the protective custody of my parents, no matter how unhealthy I know it is—at least for a while.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Dad pulls away from my dorm. I refuse to say goodbye, refuse to think about the life of this past semester being gone, obliterated by my decision, no, my need, to see Bryan, not even acknowledging all the implications, though I had an idea of what they were.

Mom’s sunny voice interrupts the turn in my thoughts, and I open my eyes to meet hers as she leans over the front seat to smile at me.

“We’re so happy to share the good news, Susie. Your father got that job in California. We just found out today. Isn’t that a terrific Christmas present?”

“You did?” California? Before I get stuck on what this means for my life, knowing what this means for Dad buoys me. “Congratulations, Dad. That is terrific.” I smile at his grinning face in the rearview mirror and squeeze Mom’s outstretched hand.

There’s a moment of shared gratification and relief between us that trumps the cauldron of crazy emotions that threaten to erupt any moment, calming me, centering me.

“The best part is that I start right away in the new year, on January second,” Dad says. He’s still grinning, so I keep smiling. I’m happy if he’s happy.

Mom adds, “Of course, that means that we have to list the house right away. I’ve been talking to a real estate agent, and she says⁠—”

“Sell the house? Right away?” The first tremor from the news shakes me, and I know there’s more to come, so I brace myself, holding on to the positives and holding on to the edge of my seat like I’m worried I’ll fall off.