I sleep until sometime in the afternoon, when I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing on my bedside table. When I check the screen, there are messages from Amie, Paloma, and Everett, and then, as if he knew my phone were in my hand, my brother’s face fills the screen. It buzzes and stops almost immediately as I jab a finger at thecancel callbutton. Minutes later, it buzzes again with a voicemail notification, and I can’t help myself. My brother’s voice fills the room as I play the message on speakerphone.
“Come on, Roo. Don’t be like this, please.” He pauses, and I imagine him sighing, rubbing a hand over the beard he’s started to grow out now he’s left the army. It was surprisingly soft when he kissed me on the cheek a week or two ago, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of his fresh, eucalyptus-scented shampoo and the bright, woodsy cologne he’s worn since his late teens. “We both love you, Rooey. Please call me.”
The line between love and hate is thin. I’ve always believed you can’t hate someone without loving them too. Amie and Everett were right when they tried to talk me down, but there’s still so much anger and pain in my heart. I can’t bring myself to be calm and talk to my brother right now, or to Katy. I miss them desperately, but I don’t trust myself not to push them even further away.
And right now, I just want to scream.
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.
I hate me.
I put my phone into do not disturb mode, silencing all calls, just as one more missed call notification flashes up. I listen to the last voicemail.
“I miss you, Roo. Don’t let this ruin us.”
I miss you, too.
Chapter thirty-two
Ruth
My heart feels heavierthan ever when I wake. I trudge through my morning in slow motion, dressing in my rattiest, most comfortable clothes, and choking down a piece of dry toast for breakfast. It feels like the appropriate kind of punishment for the last two weeks of my life.
I woke with a new kind of clarity. The understanding that if I want to rid myself of the rage and the pain that has me in its grasp, then I have to do the thing I fear. And so, I shove my feet into my shoes and pocket my keys.
The lights flick on in the window as I hammer my hand against the door. Katy opens it as my fist is raised, ready to strike against the wood again. A million words and thoughts swirl around in my head, and I can’t for the life of me straighten them out for long enough to figure out what to do or say next. What I really mean to do is apologise for being such a tremendous bitch, but that’s not what comes out of my mouth.
“He’s the one thing that’s mine,” I say as she looks up to meet my eyes. I know what she’s thinking. I know her too well. She’s thinking that I have Everett. She’s thinking that Jay isn’t a possession, he’s a man, he’s not something I could or should own… and she’s right. She’s looking at my oversized sweatshirt and worn out shoes and she knows I haven’t worn either since we were in university. She probably also knows just how much my heart hurts right now. She’s thinking I’m unravelling, and she might just be right.
Sometimes, having an empath for a best friend really sucks.
She moves towards me hesitantly, and then reaches out to pull me into her arms. I try to resist, but the truth is, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her silly jokes and her earnest gaze. I’ve missed her summery perfume.
I’ve missed my best friend.
I can only resist for a moment before I let myself fall into her embrace.
“He’ll always be yours,” she says, pushing onto her tiptoes and resting her chin on my shoulder. Her arms squeeze around me. “He adores you, Roo.”
It takes a moment, but eventually, I lift my arms to return the hug. Katy’s hugs have always been the best. Lo is too bony and angular, and Amie can squeeze a little too tight, fingertips leaving tiny round bruises where they’ve dug all the way in. But Katy’s hugs are perfect. I feel the tension leave both of our bodies as we hold each other, and tears prick at my eyes.
“Is it serious?” I pull back, searching Katy’s face. If I had to describe her expression, I’d call itguarded optimism. She’s only quiet for a moment before more tears fill her eyes, and her lips twitch in that telltale way that says she’s fighting a smile.
“I love him,” she says, with the smallest of shrugs and a tiny smile threatening to lift the corners of her mouth, even through tears. It’s as simple as that.She loves him. I haven’t spoken to my brother since I kicked him out of my flat ten days ago, but he said the same thing then, and in every message he’s left me since. He loves her.
“Okay,” I say, finally. “Okay.”
I hold Katy at arm’s length for another long beat, and then I back away, pulling the door closed behind me with a softclick. I hear nothingfrom inside the house as I stand there for a moment before shoving my hands deep into my pockets and walking the few yards down the road to my car. Before I even turn on the engine, I pull my phone from my pocket.
ROO
I’m sorry.
The response is almost immediate, and it sends a storm swirling into my belly that lifts half of the weight settled there just as soon as it swoops through.
Jay
me too. I love you rooey.
