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he it, thank her, and take a sip as she sits down all the way on the other end of the couch. She sat next to me before. Maybe she’s worried about any closeness now. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Like I could really use some tequila right about now.”
Idaline frowns. “Do you know what your triggers are?”
“What?”
“You know, things that make you want to drink. If you know your triggers, you could avoid or get rid of them to help you stay sober.”
I laugh. It’s a hearty laugh without even an ounce of humor. “I couldn’t do that for even half of them if I wanted to.” Lila’s a trigger. Her apartment is a trigger. Idaline with Justin is a trigger. The thought of my future and the weight of how I must do better for this tiny human coming in March is a trigger. I can’t get rid of any of those things unless I decide to walk out on Lila and I can’t do that to my baby. I won’t stop talking to Idaline either, so I’ll deal with her boyfriend.
Idaline walks on her knees over to me and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time, FC. I wish I could do more to help.”
“You do plenty,” I reassure her quietly, lifting up my arm to hug her back. Her presence, whether physically or over the phone, or even in my own mind, helps me get through moments when I’m weak.
Idaline releases me and returns to her seat. There’s a tension between us that I’ve never felt before. I don’t like it at all. It’s not right. It’s not us.
“Should I worry about Grandpa McAllister coming over and kicking me out again?” I ask, hoping it lightens the tension.
I only get a small smile out of her. “No. You don’t have to worry about him.”
We fall back into this awkward silence that’s not helping. “Can we go somewhere? I don’t think I can sit here.”
Idaline jumps up as if she’s so glad we won’t be stuck in this apartment together. “Yes. Justin was planning to take me to the fair, but we’re going another night now. You know I love fairs, so we can go there.”
I stand as she runs around to get her purse and keys. Soon, we’re on our way as she drives us to the fair. “Did everything go okay with your grandpa that day?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Yes.”
“That doesn’t really match that shrug you just gave me.”
“Well, we talked about you.”
“Me?” I parrot with surprise. “Why would he want to talk about me?”
Idaline shrugs. “He doesn’t think I should let you come over. There’s no such thing as just friends between guys and girls for him, and considering you have a girlfriend and I now have a boyfriend, he thinks you’re a recipe for disaster.”
Huh. For me, he’s absolutely right, but I can behave, especially since for the foreseeable future, I can’t be with Idaline. I’m not sure what Idaline thinks about this. Does she agree with her grandfather? She certainly responded to the kiss, but anyone can kiss a guy back. “How come you let me come back if he doesn’t think you should?” I ask.
She briefly glances over at me. “You needed a supportive friend. That matters more than what he thinks.”
I don’t know if I should feel victorious or not. We arrive at the fair and I don’t have to think about it. Her phone goes off with a beep. “Sorry. It’s Justin, checking in on us.” While she texts him back, I guide her with a hand on her mid-back as we walk. It pisses me off a little that he’s checking in. He hasn’t long left her and if he didn’t stay so she can be a friend to me, then why the fuck is he going to bother us? Idaline gives me an apologetic smile once she tucks her phone away. It’s tempting to mention something about how maybe he’s the jealous type, but after the last boyfriend, I don’t think Idaline would get herself into another situation like that.
Idaline takes a deep breath as we walk past the entrance. “I love this.”
She really does. There’s no telling how many times she’s told me about how she was going to a fair over the years. It doesn’t matter what the fair is for, she’s there. She loves the atmosphere, the vendors, and the games.
She stops by one booth where baseballs are thrown in order to win a prize. “Okay, FC, my former baseball pitcher, win me that monkey.” She points to the ugliest stuffed animal I’ve ever seen. It’s blue and hairy all over with an extra fluff of hair on his head. His face, though, is what makes him ugly. He’s already missing an eye and his smile is lopsided and creepy.
“I haven’t thrown a ball in years, Idaline,” I say even as I pull money out of my wallet.
“It’s like riding a bike. You can do it. I have complete faith in you.”
Before I let the man take my money, I ask, “What do I have to do to win the ugly monkey?” Idaline slaps my arm at calling her prize ugly, but I groan because he tells me I have to win three times in a row to win it. Idaline gives me another word of encouragement as I roll my shoulders to loosen up. Hopefully, she’s right and this is just like riding a bike.
With a quick breath, I make my first throw and hit the target exactly like I should. Idaline squeals with excitement, clutching the back of my shirt. I grab another ball and move on to the next target. One down, two to go. I surprise myself by hitting the targets each time, winning her the ugly monkey.
“Thanks, FC. You know I’m terrible at these games. You’d think I’d get better after all these years, but I don’t.”
