“I knew it was a bad idea when she agreed to do this tour with Roddy. She never seemed excited,” Gretchen said.
“That Instagram account is like watching a stranger. That’s nobody we know,” I said. My words weren’t an outright agreement with Gretchen but hopefully she’d take it as a small white flag. Recently she’d accepted to go on tour playing her cello with her sort of ex-boyfriend, now business manager, Roderick Chagny. None of us had a good feeling about him but wanted her to be happy.
Gretchen looked up at me and nodded. “I didn’t know you were paying attention.”
“I was upset and needed space. I didn’t stop being a friend,” I said.
Gretchen raised her eyebrow in disagreement.
“Blithe texted about the drug too,” Suzie said, reading her phone. I wanted to ask where she was, but I didn’t feel like I had the right to.
I’d forgotten my phone at home, I’d left so fast. “Tell Kim to ‘stay the fuck away from those pills!’” I said.
Gretchen, who’d been texting furiously, nodded and I heard the swoop of another text being sent.
“She’s not responding.” Suzie chewed her lip.
I glanced at the microwave clock in the kitchen. “She’s probably on stage.”
“You don’t just text someone something like that and go MIA,” Suzie said.
“Just like you don’t fall off the map and stop seeing your friends,” Gretchen said with no shortage of salt.
Okay, so we were doing this now.
“I need to go lock up the studio. I’ll be right back,” Suzie said before leaving Gretchen and me to a long overdue “come to Jesus” chat.
Sitting at the kitchen counter alone with Gretch’s animosity, I was more nervous than I thought I would be. I had so much anger for so long about the night at the drive-in and then after everything with Sanders it all morphed into regret. But pride was a dangerous thing and I wasn’t the only one who needed to apologize.
“You can’t just stop talking to people. That’s not okay,” Gretchen finally said.
“I needed time to think. I’m not like you. You refuse to understand that people handle things differently,” I snapped, her words putting me on the defensive.
“That’s not true.” Her arms were tight around her crop top.
“It is.”
“Then why are you here? If I’m such a terrible friend, why not just stay away?” Red traveled up her neck.
“Gretch. You’re not a terrible friend. That’s not what I’m saying … I didn’t mean to start on this foot. With us both getting worked up,” I said.
She threw out her arms but I could see through her bluster. Her hands shook and it cracked my proud shell. “We’ve been friends for most of our lives. When you shut me out, it felt like my family abandoned me,” she admitted.
That cut me to the quick. I knew some of Gretchen’s pain. I knew what it must have cost her to admit that. “I know. I’m sorry. I felt bombarded. I was so mad at you and confused about what I wanted,” I explained.
She sighed. “We probably both could have talked more that night. When I care about someone, I know that I can be a little …”
“Controlling,” I finished.
“I was going to say overly concerned. But I’ve missed you, Roxy. I have wanted to call you a hundred times.”
We couldn’t quite look at each other, the stubborn-ass women that we were. “I’ve missed you too. You’ve always been there for me over the years.”
“You have too. Even if you don’t admit it,” she said.
I shrugged. “You’re a great friend. I’m just asking you to understand that people need to do things their own way sometimes.”
“I just know what’s best,” she said, her voice high and innocent.
