BooksBarbecue
Back When We Were Friends
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Author
  5. 31
  6. 14
  7. 31
  8. 14
  9. 31
  10. 14
  11. 31
  12. 14
  13. 31
  14. 15
  15. 31
  16. 16
  17. 32
  18. 16
  19. 32
  20. 17
  21. 32
  22. 17
  23. 32
  24. 17
  25. 32
  26. 17
  27. 32
  28. 18
  29. 32
  30. 18
  31. 32
  32. 18
  33. 32
  34. 18
  35. 32
  36. 18
  37. 32
  38. 18
  39. 32
  40. 18
  41. 32
  42. 18
  43. 32
  44. 18
  45. 32
  46. 32
  47. 33
  48. 33
  49. 33
  50. Acknowledgments
  51. Discussion Questions
  52. Booklist

There it was. The truth. Escaping in frozen vapor from her lips. We both knew why we’d lost touch. I couldn’t believe I was finally getting my apology, was finally getting to see her self-realization. I’d longed for this moment for so long, wanted to forgive her for so long, but she’d never apologized and given me a chance. And there was only one appropriate response to such vulnerable honesty—the same in return. I took a gasp, inhaling all the tears I’d cried over Jessica, all the grief I’d carried about losing her friendship. Not even losing it. Forcibly pushing it away, because she’d given me no other choice.

“You did fuck up,” I whispered, my own eyes now brimming with tears. “You really did.”

Her head fell, her hair obscuring her face, and I felt an instant surge of guilt. This Jessica wasn’t the Jessica I was mad at. Wasn’t the one I needed an apology from. “But, hey, come on. It was a very long time ago...”

She held up a hand to stop me, her face still obscured. “No, Fern. Don’t. You’re right. I fucked it. And, for what it’s worth, and over ten years too late, I really am sorry. Honestly, so fucking sorry.” My throat glued itself shut, the cold air caught in my mouth.

“It’s OK,” I said eventually. And, on that cold bench, with the playground dissolving around us, I realized it was OK. At least, I thought it was OK. I wanted it to be OK. I’d missed her too much for it not to be. “And...cutting you out. I know it was cold, but... I...”

“No. I got it. I was devastated, of course. Angry, even. But I got it. I just didn’t want to admit to myself what had happened.”

“Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal...”

“It was. I knew it was. And I’m sorry, and I’m so happy you’re here, and you’re letting me apologize. I feel so lucky for that. For this second chance. Cuz, Fern? I really want us to be friends again.”

I looked into her eyes and the strength of love I felt for her was almost romantic. She eyed me wearily, her heart held out in her hand. I took a breath and decided to take it.

“I really want us to be friends again too.”

15

january 2001

It turned out Jessica and I didn’t need the others. We sat, cross-legged, on my bed facing one another, palm to palm, eyes locked, under my collage wall. I tuned in, staring into Jessica’s eyes for answers, noticing how perfectly she’d blended two shades of green eye shadow.

“OK, so I’m thinking of a number between one and five,” she said. “Are you ready?”

I nodded.

“Go.”

She projected the number to me and I took deep breaths, letting the message come through. Two...no...three. It was definitely... “Three,” I said.

She let out a squeak. “Yes!”

“No way.”