CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

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2022

          "Happy birthday, bestie!"

          By the time August rolled around, I would've been friends with Savannah for four years, and I still had to get used to being called bestie by her. The nickname didn't feel nearly as condescending as Penny, to be fair, but sometimes I wondered what it would take for her to call me by my actual name without making me feel as though I was being lectured or even by the nickname I highly preferred. It would be as easy as walking up to me and addressing me as Penn, but I was self-aware enough to know I was being unreasonable about the whole ordeal. The last thing I needed was for someone else to point out I was being overly dramatic over being upset, like my feelings didn't matter, and I'd learned it was best to keep those things to myself.

          "Thanks, Sav," I murmured, slumping into one of the high stools in the kitchen.

          I barely spent any time there when I was in the apartment, finding it much more comforting to retreat into my bedroom and lock the door, but I also knew I couldn't avoid the girls forever. Even if it was considerably easier to run away from Ingrid on campus, Savannah and I still took all the same classes, and this was a communal area. I was running out of excuses to avoid them, even though the mere thought of spending more than ten minutes at a time with either of them made my skin break out in hives, and my heart couldn't take any more anxious tension.

          Guilt settled in fast, made even worse when she slid a plate of whole wheat pancakes, covered in chocolate syrup, and walked around the counter to give me an awkward hug, complete with a kiss to the temple. No one ever did things like that for me anymore, as I'd been effectively shutting down every attempt my parents made to reach out to me, consumed by the nagging fear they knew about me and Chase, so I didn't even know how to feel grateful for that gesture. It was a terrible thing to do and I knew that, and everything in me ached for parental comfort provided by the two people who had always had my back and loved me unconditionally, along with my grandparents, but it was yet another sacrifice.

          I imagined it was the same with Chase, but, even if he, too, had to keep his parents at bay, he had friends—adult, successful friends—that he couldn't be fully honest with, as he'd reminded me countless times before. He'd done so to help me stay grounded in reality instead of living in a fantasy world where everything was perfect as long as I believed our secret moments in private, quiet rooms made it all disappear. The hardships mattered, and there had been a point in recent time when I thought they were building us up, strengthening us for what was still to come, but I was finding it more draining every day to stay optimistic. Chase was tired, too, and I could feel it, but all the strength left in me hung on to the sliver of hope that I wasn't what he was tired of; it was just the circumstances and all the goddamn waiting.

          Sometimes hardships were just that—terrible and hard. They didn't have to make anyone stronger, and I didn't want to see everything as a learning opportunity when it had nothing to do with patience. I was too anxious, too neurotic of a person to ever allow myself to go with the flow, to sit and wait for better days; I spent most of the time terrified of the worst-case scenario, twisting words and narratives until they fit my negative predictions.

          "So, I have to tell you something," Savannah continued, sliding to the empty seat next to mine. A dull sound coming from the hallway informed me Ingrid was awake now, headed off towards the bathroom, and hadn't even bothered to wish me a happy birthday beforehand. "Please don't be mad, but we kind of felt like throwing a house party, a small get-together."

          All the muscles in my body stiffened, nerves paralyzing. "Did Ingrid put you up to this? Are you cleaning up after her mess?"

         "Don't get mad at her. This one was more my idea than hers." She scooted closer to me, correctly assuming it was a lot easier to resent Ingrid for the smallest things. I didn't like what this said about me, that I was finally willing to be swayed between my friends after three whole years of insisting on remaining neutral, and part of me feared I was making the wrong choice. Maybe Savannah wasn't the one that was unconditionally on my side; maybe she knew I'd screwed her out of a mentorship with Chase just because I was jealous and had blamed it on my concerns about our privacy. "I know your birthdays in college haven't been ideal, and maybe you just want to be left alone, I don't know, but this is the last chance we'll ever get to spend your birthday together in this apartment."

          That was certainly something I was sure I wouldn't miss after graduation, all the partying and the crowds of people swarming the apartment when all I wanted was to be left alone. I would never feel comfortable in such environments, even though populated parties had always been a formative part of my childhood and teenage years, and I knew I had to find a way of at least pretending to enjoy these parades, especially for my parents' sake. If I wanted to be successful by myself, I needed to prove to my industry peers that I could keep up with their partying habits until late hours of the night—something college parties had been preparing me for.

          Still, part of me clenched with the strength of my hurt feelings by thinking about how Savannah and Ingrid—mostly Savannah this time, which was even more shocking—had, once again, gone behind my back and were using the 'we're doing this for your own good' excuse. I didn't like house parties and hadn't asked for one, so it went without saying that I felt used. If they wanted to throw a party at the apartment, they could do it without worrying about me—I'd find something else to do, somewhere else to be, someone else to bother—but using me and my birthday as an excuse to do so was unnecessary.

          I was saved from delivering a snide and ungrateful comment to the best friend who had just cooked me breakfast by my other best friend entering the kitchen, ashen face and red, puffy eyes. It also distracted Sav enough to make her stop pretending to care about my feelings about a house party, so I took that opportunity to recompose myself, take a deep breath, before the spotlight found its way back to me.

          "You okay?" Savannah asked her, as she sat next to me. Though I was still furious at her—I had come to terms with that being my general feelings towards her a long time ago—and didn't want to give her any excuses to turn on me, I'd never seen her look as miserable as she currently did. "No offense, but you look . . ."

          "I'm aware, thanks," Ingrid dryly muttered, picking at her chipped nail polish.

           With her hair down, it was as though there was a curtain of blinding light separating us, and I shrank even further under the heavy weight of shame. I'd never meant to dig a chasm between the two of us, especially considering how quickly we'd fallen into a friendship rhythm during freshman year, and there had been a point in my life after we first moved in together I was entirely convinced we would willingly die for each other. It was a strange relationship, with me constantly feeling on edge and like I had something to prove to her, like I was always so terrified of her, and, in retrospect, it could have been my instincts trying to warn me about what would happen years later. I'd chosen Chase over her and Sav, but I'd also chosen him over my own parents, so she wasn't the only person I'd left behind.

          Seeing her like that didn't make me feel any better. If I truly hated her as much as I'd been trying to convince myself I did, I'd be rejoicing over her misery, yet I had to physically restrain myself by keeping my hands busy just so I wouldn't give in to the urge of comforting her. She had Savannah for that, the yes-girl in every situation, and I had turned into the only person capable of confronting her—exactly what she was to me.

          Like movie star parties had been a formative experience, so was having a complicated, intense female friendship in my twenties. Even when I hated Ingrid's guts and considered wrapping my hands around her neck, I would still feel sick to my stomach over the thought of losing her, and I often mused about how I loved her so much I'd bleed myself dry for her. Feeling like you were consuming and being consumed by the other girl, the uncertainty about where you ended and where she began, the contradiction trusting her enough to choose to be vulnerable around her but also being hyper aware I also needed to be guarded. 

          It wasn't like that with anyone else, not even with Savannah, and, deep down, I knew I had my best interests at heart, even if it infuriated me she thought that somehow gave her permission to meddle in my personal life. Chase still came first at all times, but she didn't know this. She would never and, even if she did, she would never understand. I knew just how judgmental and ruthless she could be.

          "Craig finally dumped me after a whole two weeks of ghosting me, basically," Ingrid explained, pouring vodka into a glass of orange juice. The smell made my stomach churn so wildly I fully lost my appetite, but it was also worsened by the realization that I'd been so absent from their lives that I had no idea who Craig was. "Serves me right."

          "Sorry," I said, pushing my plate towards her. It would do her good to stuff her stomach with actual food before going straight for the alcohol, but, then again, I wasn't one to talk. Hadn't I spent three years of college getting drunk on an empty stomach? "He doesn't deserve you."

           Ingrid shrugged without much energy, like that situation had drained her dry. "I don't know what I was expecting, honestly. Everyone told me he had a track record of doing this, and I still ignored all the red flags. Then, I found out he went after a freshman girl. Dude's almost in his thirties. What business do you have with eighteen, nineteen-year-olds?"

          I winced, praying neither of them noticed my reaction. Savannah had her back turned to us, and Ingrid still stared at her brand new cocktail, too distracted by her own melancholia to even acknowledge my presence, but they had turned out to be more perceptive and less meek than I'd initially thought, so I was never safe. Not fully. Still, I loathed that this was what my life had turned into, being constantly terrified of being perceived, of being found out, of being caught, and the worst part was that I was the only one to blame. I couldn't even redirect my fury at Savannah and Ingrid and say they were at fault for the consequences of my actions and decisions.

          "What a creep," Savannah commented, turning around to lean the small of her back against the edge of the counter behind her. "That one guy I mentioned I had been seeing, the older guy? Turns out he went for eighteen-year-olds all the time. It was his MO. I felt so special to be chosen, so superior for being seen, but it was actually because girls his age knew better. I got out of there so fast; I think it was only like . . . a month or two. I'm just glad to not have been manipulated, that's all. Some girls fall in too deep."

          "Yeah," Ingrid confirmed, burying her head in her hands, and everything in me threatened to explode. My hands, set over my jean-clad thighs, were shaking so hard I had to close them into fists, stabbing my flesh with my own nails. They had no right, no right to indirectly put me on the spot, regardless of how much information they had, and everything my eyes darted towards was tinted scarlet. "I'm relieved we both got out and ran so fucking fast, but I hate that there's always that lingering feeling of not having been good enough, you know? I'm sitting here and wondering why I care so much when I felt miserable all the time."

          I slid out of my stool, excusing myself and effectively removing myself from the conversation by telling Sav we'd be late for Film Theory (I even made a big deal out of raising my phone to emphasize the time I hadn't checked). Not getting to spend yet another birthday with Chase was soul-crushing, but at least I wouldn't be spending it by myself—unlike what had happened when I turned twenty. Would I still be bleeding out later tonight, surrounded by oblivious people? Would anyone care?

          As we were by the front door, with Ingrid deciding she'd stay behind to mentally prepare herself to face a house party (something I wished I could be doing, but I had obligations and a senior project to complete), Sav handed me a small chiffon bag, informing me it had been left in our mailbox. Confused, I took it, my heart instantly flatlining as soon as my eyes skimmed over the small gift tag.

Happy birthday!

Sylvia

          Voice thick and clogged with emotion, I attempted to explain to Savannah Sylvia was a friend of my parents, which wasn't a complete lie, even though their friendship had seen better days. Perhaps it was like my friendship with the girls, built out of convenience as we sought out a common goal, as we used each other to get exactly what we wanted, but I didn't want to even consider the possibility of having been used for three years just so he could get to my father.

          I wanted to believe I was better than that, deserved better than that, and, deep in my heart, I knew my father would never allow for such a thing, but the fact that my faith in Chase had wavered for the briefest of moments filled me with terror. Hadn't he done enough to prove himself to me after all this time? Hadn't I asked too much for him already?

          As Savannah urged me to open the birthday gift, neglecting the way my hands simply would not stop shaking and how I was in the middle of a crisis of faith, I wished I was doing this anywhere else. I could only hope she hadn't kept a close eye on my jewelry of choice or even Chase's general taste, which would help her piece everything together, and having my relationship implode on my birthday, out of all days, would be catastrophic.

          Inside the burgundy bag, there was a small, square box that both of us nearly dropped, lacking the proper hand-eye coordination to handle such a delicate thing. In my case, that applied to other areas of my life, whereas Savannah appeared to have a stronger grasp on reality instead of devoting unnecessary time to obsess over hypothetical scenarios. Still, even with all that worry, nothing could have prepared me for what was in the box as I clicked it open with a quick flex of my index and middle fingers.

          "Holy shit," Savannah muttered, before my knees grew weak. "That's some ring. Are you sure this Sylvia woman isn't proposing to you?"

          "Positive," I mumbled, knowing he would never. At least not when we still had to keep it a secret, at least considering the poor state of our relationship and communication based on the past couple of weeks. This was a level of delusion I couldn't fall prey to, regardless of how pretty the diamond ring was.

          The ring fit me perfectly, even if it felt horribly inappropriate to wear it on my ring finger—and wear it to class, even, where everyone would see it, including Chase—and it filled my chest with comforting warmth. The gold band matched the warmer undertones of my skin, even during the harshest winter of my life, and the diamond itself was so pristine, so clear I could see my fragmented reflection on its surface. The thought of Chase picking it out specifically for me, the thought of him running so many risks just to do something nice for my birthday was both flattering and mortifying, something that could have easily been avoided. If he had been seen by someone he knew, that would trigger the opening of a Pandora's box filled with awkward questions.

          I debated not wearing it. It would be safer if I didn't, but I didn't want to seem unappreciative, especially considering how expensive it must have been and how dangerous it had been for him to even buy it. Savannah insisted I should wear it, at least today, and something about it worsened the strange feeling in my stomach. I wanted to trust her, but I also had bigger priorities and more important things to protect.

          Still, I walked out of the apartment with the damn ring on my finger, admiring the way it glistened with the gray morning light. It gave me hope, in an odd way. It gave me hope Chase and I still stood a chance against every force in the universe that fought to keep us apart.

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gifts don't excuse bad behavior <3

wanna know my excuse for taking a month to update? guess who just got her heart broken again WOOOOO

(but seriously don't rush me. at this point i think it should be clear. if you want to be particularly nasty by publicly calling me out for taking a long time to update even after all my explanations, think twice.)