With that, Manny slips down a back hall toward the restrooms, and we order our food. Unfortunately, the moment Manny is out of eyeshot, my problems start again, too.
V feigns a vomit noise. “God, this guy is insufferable.”
“I don’t know, I like him,” Gabby presses back.
As we sit down at a table, I let the sound of the Top Gear theme wash over me, the familiar voices of the hosts anchoring me as I strategize how to manage V’s constant negativity. “I don’t understand what he’s done to get on your bad side. He found you a halfway decent wine bar; he’s showing us all his favorite spots.”
“Yeah, now. That’s how they always are now,” V hisses.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I press back.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Hang on, V,” Gabby says, trying to mediate. “Just because Franky made some bad calls in the past doesn’t mean he’s bad.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I snap, my voice growing just a little too loud.
Gabby’s ghostly facade crumples into a look of deep concern. “No, sorry, I just meant-”
“Meant what? That I can’t take care of myself? That I wouldn’t be happy if it weren’t for you two?”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Gabby tries.
“Then what?”
“You just met the guy!” V presses. “You don't know him!”
“I know he likes poetry, and cars, and writing, and he makes a great Manhattan.” My lips quiver as I realize how desperate I must sound. “I, I know he likes me!”
“Are you sure he’s not just using you like Chad?” V shoots back, as if that couldn’t be the worst possible thing to say.
“Why would you bring him up?” I demand. “Why do you have to dig up the past every time you wanna make a point?!”
“Because you always do this,” V says. “You literally ran out on us because of him.”
“There it is. I ran out onyou. You wouldn’t have cared if I hadn’t left, but because your happy little relationship is crumbling, suddenly I’m the bad guy.”
The few patrons in the restaurant keep peering at us, but my blood is boiling from too much pent-up frustration not to let it all finally pour out.
“You know what. Yeah!” V snaps. “We were good together. The three of us were happy!”
“You were happy!” I shoot back. The next words I don’t think I mean, but I want them to hurt, I want V to hurt, like I’m hurting, like I’ve been hurting. “And if you weren’t so selfish, maybe you would have seen that. Maybe I wouldn’t have followed Chad in the first place.”
The words hit their mark, V’s brows knitting into sharp angles as she tries to think of a response. I wait for one of her classic verbal lashings, a torrent of curses and targeted humiliations. Instead, I just see pain, pain and betrayal. Her lips quiver under the weight of what I said. She doesn’t speak; she just gets up and storms out, Gabby chasing after her. I sit there, alone, arms folded, dry British car humor my only companion as I try to replay the conversation, try to think of an apology, except I don’t want to apologize. I’m done apologizing. I’m done being taken for granted.
Manny finally returns from the restroom, surprised I’m sitting by myself. “Where are your friends?”
“V doesn’t really eat fried chicken, and Gabby doesn’t actually eat at all.” It’s only a partial lie, but the best I can manage under the circumstances.
“Oh, damn, I really thought this would be a hit with them.” Manny adjusts himself so that his body faces towards me. “But are you okay?”
“Yeah!” I blurt the word out far too enthusiastically. “Why wouldn’t I be? I got you, Top Gear, and fried chicken.”
He puts an arm around me, holding me in a loose hug, and presses his forehead to my temple. “Okay, even if you’re not, I’m still here.”
“Thanks,” I sigh, our breath mingling.
Our food finally arrives, Sal sits with us, all of us discussing the episode on TV as if we know it by the back of our hand, and for a moment, I feel transported. In Manny’s company, in this space, I can see it, a different life, the life I could have had if I had made other choices. But I was too young, too naive to make those choices. The longer I think, the more V’s harsh words bleed back in, and the tighter my chest gets.
