Page 44 of Trial and Error

“Malik, that’s enough,” Imani calls from behind us. “Take a step back and breathe.”

I turn to face her and she looks at me with such disappointment, my chest aches. Malik forcefully knocks his shoulder into Elias’s as he walks past us and past his sister. I watch as he walks over to the black sedan on the other side of the street.

Imani looks between Elias and me and sighs. “What’s going on with you, Bids?” Her voice is quiet. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Too complicated to tell your best friend?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried but you’ve been screening my calls,” I reply, my voice wobbling as my eyes grow watery. “I can’t ever seem to get a hold of you these days.”

A sad looks passes over her face. “I didn’t even know you were dating someone else.”

“It’s not like that,” I reply. “Elias and I⁠—”

“This is the guy from Natalie’s work event?” I nod. “I didn’t think it was this deep.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about this.”

“Yeah,” she whispers as her eyes turn glassy. “It seems like there’s a lot I don’t know about you either.”

“That’s not fair.” I sniffle.

She turns to look over her shoulder at Malik who is sitting in his car, waiting for her. “I have to go.” She turns and starts to walk away.

“Imani, wait.”

I see her shoulder sag as she looks over her shoulder. “I love you, Bids, but he’s my brother and he needs me right now.”

She doesn’t look back again as she walks to where he waits for her. I watch as she gets in the car and I continue watching as it disappears from view.

Elias wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him. “Are you okay?”

The words don’t come, so I shake my head and let the tears fall.

elias

Bridget is inconsolable as we take an Uber back to her place. After her ex-boyfriend and her friend left, Bridget stared at where their car was parked for five minutes, crying quietly. I hated to leave her alone as I went in to settle the bill, but when I came back, she hadn’t even moved.

The drive back to her place is quiet, neither one of us speaking. The Uber driver was friendly when we got in the car but as soon as he saw Bridget’s wet cheeks and my tight smile, he chose to keep quiet.

She’s finally stopped crying and is looking out the window as we pass an endless flurry of restaurants, and I reach across and wrap my hand around hers. I’ve been debating doing it for the past few minutes but didn’t want to upset her any more, and after seeing her quietly crying, I know I need to comfort her somehow.

Her eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, and she sighs as she interlocks our fingers and pulls my hand into her lap. Subconsciously, I rub my thumb over the diamond on her finger and I see her head dip to look down.

The car pulls to a stop and she looks at me shyly. “Do you want to come up?”

“Do you want me to?”

She nods. “I’d like that.”

The two of us climb out of the Uber and head toward her apartment building. It’s a heritage building and looks to be no more than four storeys high with large bay windows, which I imagine lets in a lot of natural daylight.

We walk up three flights of stairs until we stop in front of a mahogany door that is at the end of the hall. She slips the key into the lock and pushes the door open. A faint smell of lavender invades my senses and I inhale it without a second thought. As soon as I step over the threshold, I feel at ease. Bridget turns on the light, and I’m faced with a small, yet cozy living area.

The dark wood floors are decorated with an array of rugs—small, large, circular, square. The walls are a contrast, painted a bright magnolia and decorated with several photo frames, filled with photos of Bridget and her loved ones. I spot a picture of her with the two people from the bar, arms wrapped around each other in an embrace. They look younger in the picture, and it dawns on me that they’ve been friends for a long time.

I watch her as I close the door behind me, enjoying seeing the way her body relaxes with each step she takes. She bends down and takes the heels from her feet and places them on a rack by the front door.