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“We’re in this together, sweetheart.”
I grab my phone and check it out of habit. Nothing, not that I should be surprised.
“Expecting to hear from someone?” Justin asks as we walk to the kitchen. “You look upset that it hasn’t gone off.”
“No and sort of.”
He raises an eyebrow for me to explain as we sit down at my already set table.
“FC said we can only write letters now; that’s what I mailed this morning, a letter to him. I don’t know why, though. All he would say is that under no circumstance can we talk over the phone. He said he couldn’t explain and that he was between hell and a hard place.”
Justin shrugs. “Well, I can’t say I’m upset about this development. He’s probably doing this because I’m right in that he has feelings for you and he needs to distance himself from you. He probably has to do it to keep his relationship intact too. I can’t imagine she’s happy about him running down here to see you and talking to you so much. The less you talk to him, the better.”
My mouth drops open and Justin hurries to add, “I know he’s been your friend for a long time, Idaline, but y’all are too close. I can promise his girlfriend doesn’t like it, and I already told you I don’t like it. You may not see it that way because you’re sweet and innocent, but FC knows. Trust me,” he mutters. “Maybe this is a sign that you shouldn’t talk to him at all anymore. It sounds like you’ve reached a point in the friendship that it’s coming to an end.”
I don’t even know where to start. How do I process all of that? FC wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship for a relationship he knows won’t last. There’s no way.
Right?
Plus, Justin again brings up that FC has feelings for me, and my soul latches onto that while my brain dismisses it.
One of the most important things here is that Justin thinks FC would get rid of me for his girlfriend. That’s incomprehensible. There’s no way.
Oh, god. That might be it. She must have her claws in him so deeply. He’s told me it’s complicated. I don’t know how, but whatever that is must mean lessening my contact with him. He’s not happy; that much is clear when he comes to my apartment for an escape. Why is he choosing her over me?
Maybe even though it’s complicated and they’re obviously going through a long rough patch, he loves her so much to deal with it and do what he’s doing. To do what Justin thinks he’s doing.
But he’s always telling me to end my friendship with FC completely. My heart shudders at the thought of such a thing. I don’t think I could do that. If it meant losing Justin, could I? How am I in this predicament anyway? I shouldn’t have to choose between Justin and FC. I don’t want to do that because I’m not sure who I’d choose.
“Idaline?”
Swallowing hard, I look at Justin. “Maybe you’re right. And if you are, then it’s good for everyone.”
That’s what I’ll remind myself of any time I think of him and wish I could talk to him.
“Will you stop talking to him then?” he asks, pushing the issue.
“I don’t know.”
Justin frowns, but doesn’t say anything else.
My “I’m not sure” to Justin about having dinner with his parents turned into a “yes”. To say he’s thrilled is an understatement. He talks about it for a week before we drive over to his parents’ house. Not going to lie, I was hoping we’d go out to a restaurant where I could escape easily if needed. There’d also be more noise and people. But my luck is nonexistent.
I hold tight to Justin’s hand as we walk up to the large wooden door. He kisses my temple and whispers, “Don’t be nervous,” which is helpful for all of five seconds. Standing just inside the door are not only his parents, but also his older brother and younger sister. This just became a family dinner.
Anxiety, run away because I definitely don’t need you here tonight.
His father steps forward to greet me with a standard handshake while his mother hugs Justin. They switch places and I stop breathing when she says, “It’s so nice to meet you, Idaline. And don’t you worry one bit. Justin already told us about this thing with your anxiety. We won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”
She pats my hand and releases me before I can even think of a response. He told them about my panic attacks? What the hell? I can’t believe he’d do that without asking me first. And what the fuck is his mother talking about? This thing with my anxiety? It’s called a disorder, lady! It’s serious and real and not something that can be brushed off.
The introductions to his siblings are a blur. Will they analyze me throughout dinner, looking for me to fall apart? There’s a sense of betrayal in my heart, reminding me of what Justin did with every heartbeat. You don’t casually tell people this, especially without asking me first, or at least letting me know! I’m a helluva lot more nervous now than I was before.
We migrate into the dining room. I’m lost in my thoughts as dinner starts and they catch up with one another. This time should probably be used to learn more about everyone as they talk, but my thoughts are so scrambled, I can’t focus. All I want to do is eat this meal without making a fool of myself and without choking. I can do that, right?
Do you hear that? That cackling, hysterical, evil laugh? That’s my anxiety laughing at me.
When they focus on me, my mind turns to mush.
