Gavin and Carina were pictured holding one another. Her hands were around his neck, with his arms wrapped loosely around her waist. The look in their eyes was enough to make me sick. Like two people in love. Like that moment captured in time was not the first time.
I shook my head.
Mimi looked at me, sadness in her eyes. “This is a joke, O. You can’t believe everything you see.”
But nothing about it screamed prank.
My aunt consoled me. Beckoned me into her arms. Hugged me tight and spoke words of encouragement that fell on deaf ears. I was too stunned to feel. Too shocked to say or do anything, so I let my aunt hold me.
“I can’t believe this,” she hollered. “Hand me my phone. I’m going to talk some sense into that boy.”
I shook my head. “No, Auntie. I’ll call him.”
I pulled back from her arms, clearing my throat as I looked back at the television. The reporters were still going on about Carina and her ever-evolving love life. The image was still there. A thumbnail in the corner now, but it was still plain as day. An image that will forever be burned in my memory.
I stepped outside. I remember the air outside was warm, but it did nothing to ease the chill I was feeling. I pulled my phone from my pocket, stared at Gavin’s name in my favorites. My thumb hovered over it for a long while before I pressed call.
It took him forever to answer. And I could imagine him staring at my name across his screen, realizing the jig was up, and there was nothing he could do to talk his way out of what he’d been keeping from me.
“O, what’s up?” he asked casually.
Cautiously.
“You tell me,” I asked.
A long silence followed. Then Gavin sighed. “I'm guessing you know.”
“Yeah. I know.” I was surprised by how calm I sounded.
“I was going to call you.”
“When?” I cut in. “After the next headline? Or after the wedding announcement?”
I could hear him cursing under his breath.
“How long?” I asked.
“A few months.”
A few months.
I can’t remember what was said after that. But I know there was no apology. Just Gavin going on about how it started and why. I just remember staring out into the darkness after that call ended, trying to make sense of how two people I loved could betray me like that.
Carina called moments later. But I sent her to voicemail. She called again. I put my phone on Do Not Disturb.
Sometimes the best response is silence.
And I gave them years of it. Until now. Now, after all that time, Carina stands here in front of me. Something I never thought would happen because I’d done my absolute best to avoid it.
“Why didn’t you answer my calls back then? I wanted to explain,” she says.
“What could you explain? Nothing you said was going to change how I felt.”
She settles into this truth, her eyes avoiding mine.
“You told people about us.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. I could tell by her friends’ faces that they knew all about me. And if they knew, everyone else in that wedding party probably knew.
“I did.”
