“Why aren’t you speaking then?”
Megan shrugged. “I don’t know Mom; friends don’t talk all day every day, you know. Do you talk to Janine all the time?”
“Not all the time, but she can be annoying.”
“Yes, I agree with that.” Megan refilled her glass and wandered to her mom’s side. “I’m going to bed. It’s beena long day.”
“You sure everything’s okay?”
“Yes, Mom, everything is absolutely fine. Stop being weird.”
“Stop with the lip.” Amanda playfully smacked her across the butt. “I just worryabout you.”
“You worry about me when there’s nothing to worry about. God help me when I actually have a real-life problem.”
“That’s what parents do. Now, go to bed before I ground you forever.”
“You’re hilarious.Night, Mom.”
“Goodnight.”
Her bedroom wrapped around the right side of the house, giving it an L-shape. Everything was as she left it a few days earlier. The solid white desk sat up against the wall as she walked in, piled high with basketball magazines and letters she would never open. The bank didn’t need to inform her on a monthly basis just how little money she actually had; the letters often made their way down to the shredder in her dad’s office, unopened. She threw her holdall in front of the chest of drawers, then rounded the corner to see her freshly made bed. The scatter cushions had grown significantly in recent years and it felt like a full-time job removing them to put them back on the next morning.
The day had drained every ounce of energy. Her knees felt weak; she stood at the foot of the bed, spread her arms wide and crashed onto the arrangement of pillows, and within minutes, shefell asleep.
***
Megan roused; the moonlight could be seen casting a shadow through the exposed window. She was still in the same position that she’d collapsed into. The alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed the time as 03:26 a.m. Megan gathered herself, swapped her sports gear for a pair of pyjamas, and rinsed her face. She climbed back into bed before placing her phone on charge. The sudden urge to check her socials removed her from the sleep haze. Despite the time,one quick look wouldn’t hurt,she told herself. She scrolled aimlessly, without direction, just getting lost within the rabbit hole that was social media, until she came across a photo of Ashley.
The photo had been uploaded by Madison, the caption read,‘Congratulations to this legend, a New York Times writer? That’s got to be worth celebrating’.
Megan stared at the photo for longer than necessary; Ashley sat on a black leather sofa, her legs crossed, with a bottle of champagne in hand. The sweet smile extended to her eyes and deep into her soul—it was genuine. The happiness deep inside spread throughout her body, creating a picture that Megan couldn’t take her eyes off.
Megan only wished she knew what it was about Ashley that brought a sudden halt to everything. Was it the unknown? The classic fear that thefriendcould have been so much more? Megan had tried since her return to England to tuck away any romantic thoughts—the notion was easier said than done. She would tell herself over and over again that there had been no connection, there had been no spark to light a thousand fires, no frighteningly apparent familiarity that she couldn’t explain. Two girls met, they had a great time and then they moved on with their lives, or so she told herself, but that didn’t explain the burning in her chest, it didn’t explain the impulse that submerged her into a pattern of denial.
The denial that what they had experienced was nothing short of remarkable, she refused to believe that their experience was different in spite of every conflicting instinct. Irrespective of this, Megan did something next that was uncharacteristic, but the truth. The message composed was out of the blue, she battled with herself for thirty seconds before she hit send.
I miss your face.
Instantaneously she buried her head face down in the pillow. The mocking from the alter-ego within began. The part that would laugh when you felt embarrassed, tell you that you’re terrible when you had a bad game, or bring up traumatic childhood memories to warn you off ever stepping outside of your comfort zone again. We all have that alter-ego—Megan felt hers as present as ever at that moment. The gesture showed a dependency that surprised Megan.Was it socially abnormal to tell someone you’d met twice that you missed their face?Megan considered the response she might get from Ashley, it wasn’t until she received the reply that she realised she might be right—perhaps she was a bit socially abnormal.
Was that meant for me?
Now she felt foolish.
Yes, of course it was.
Megan sat upright in bed. Suddenly, she waswide awake.
I miss your face too.
The response she had hoped for left her feeling underwhelmed. The realisation that they were thousands of miles apart and unable to act on a whim came flooding back. Had she been in New York, she would have gone to Ashley at that moment, declared the want and the need to be close to her and maybe even so much more. Instead, Megan lay in bed alone, fully aware of Ashley’s whereabouts and the torturing inability tobe near her.
Are you sureabout that?
Meganquestioned.
Positive. New York isn’t the same without you here.
