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“You don’t understand, it’s for the best.” Parker panicked, reaching for my arm.
“Let me go, I have to go…” I shoved him away quickly, completely stunned. This was not supposed to happen, this wasn’t what Dana promised. I was wrong, but worse, I was a fool.
“Gemma, goddamn it, please!” He begged, gripping my shoulders to face him.
“Parker…” I wavered, my vision blurred while the walls and lights spun like broken clocks. I could feel it, my years of contemplation and anxiety rising, filling my neck. “I’m going to be sick.” I gargled, my lip trembled not from sadness, but from embarrassment and horror. Right then and there, the perfect ending, my words interrupted as I puked all over Parker’s clean white shoes.
CHAPTER 1
Present Day - April 2022
Businesses don’t fail, people do; that was what I’d been told anyway. The screeching sound of the packing tape reverberated through my clenched teeth, as I tore it away from my boxes. I hated that feeling, the one that gave me shivers in the presence of unpleasant noises.
“Where do you want this box, Gem?” Parker shouted from his living room.
“What does it say?” I yelled back, slightly annoyed. Not at Parker, but at this damn box.
“Uhhh… you wrote, ‘kitchen, living room, bedroom, and misc.’ So, I guess it goes everywhere?” His laugh made its way to the semi-empty guest room, the one where I’d be living out of for the next few months.
It was a harsh truth, one that was becoming more real with each unpacked box. My business failed, and I had no choice but to move in with Parker. This felt like more than a step back; no, this was a leap and jump in the wrong direction. Crouched near a large box by my new bed, I pulled out an old, wrinkled purse. It was a knock off Coach bag, whose logo of horses were clearly missing a set of legs. It sat completely empty, and I couldn’t help but feel the same. Both of us penniless, both of us cheap attempts to be something greater than what we really were.
But despite this loss, I still had the one thing that was greater than any dream, Parker. Sure, I was broke, borderline homeless, and impossibly single, but here he was, saving me once again. He never stopped being there for me, not even after my drunken confession on that awful college night. I cringed silently, remembering the past like an embarrassing ghost.
Next to my purse lay a fresh pack of business cards, taped shut in a little bag. These were unused, and I wasn’t certain if they ever would be. After graduating at F.I.T., I spent two years interning as a stylist for Gerard Halt, who’s name made me twist the fake bag in my hands. I just wanted more, to actually design and be seen, but when his clients started preferring my sketches over his, that was when it all changed. He hated me, no question about it, and when I decided to leave, he didn't let me forget it.
I grabbed my old scheduler, scanning through the names of recent cancellations, each one slashed with a thick red line. Another client snatched, a string pulled by Gerard, to spite me in the most viscous of ways. Was he that petty? How could an ego so big be so fragile? I found it hard to believe I was at all threatening, seeing how small my business was.
“Gem?” Parker called out once more, his tone peeked for my attention.
“Fine! On my way, Park!” I shoved my box aside, running down the hall in my socks. Parker still carried the mystery box in his hands, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled along his thick arms. He winked as I got closer, acknowledging my presence as I rushed to his side, “Set it over here and we’ll take a peek.” I instructed, unsure of what was actually inside. The move from my small place in Soho to Parker’s Midtown apartment was a rushed and sudden chain of events, leaving my packed boxes as uncertain as my future.
I tore off the tape from the top, allowing the contents inside to billow out like a sigh of relief. I was beyond confused as to what I’d placed inside, knowing I was either exhausted or drunk when I packed it. Inside was a random assortment of things: tubes of mascara, a pizza cutter, a sock with no matching pair.
“Oh, these are perfect.” Parker’s deep voice hung with an impressed tone, removing a stack of playbills tucked inside. “I love how you keep these, not a single one missed.” He thumbed through each one, fanning them open to be read out loud, “Wicked,Rent,Chicago…” He paused, “But what about?”
“In the very back.” I assured him, “I’d never get rid of it.”
“Is thistheoriginal?”
“Of course.” I scoffed at his question, “Like I would ever not keep a piece of our past.”
“Phantom of the Opera…” He looked up with a smoldering tease of his voice, “A child’s worst fear.” I laughed, recalling the moment I first met Parker.
“What were they thinking? Taking a bunch of first graders to see that?” I questioned, remembering the distinct moment when two classes of Brooklyn’s Archer Elementary school were invited to watch the play on Broadway. In an attempt to foster meeting new friends, each class was paired with a partner, mine just so happened to be Parker.
“As soon as the lights went out, half the class started screaming.” Parker smirked, “Given most of us slept with the lights on still, I guess it wasn’t surprising.”
“But not us.” I reminded him, “In fact, we were both giddy. What was wrong with us? Two little kids, excited by the idea of seeing a monster, or so we thought.”
“I learned two things that day,” Parker motioned with two of his fingers. “One, I was always going to be by your side, and two, we were both a little creepy.” I slapped his arm, his deep chuckle warmed my cheeks with the crease of his smirk.
“You’re right, we were,” I agreed. “Guess that’s why we love horror movies so much.” This of course was true, but for me, it involved reasons much more important than monsters and gore. It was a chance to sit in the dark, to cuddle close to Parker. In these moments, he’d confuse my pounding heart as an affect from the movie, when, in reality, it was from him. His eyes returned to the box as he bit his lip.
“What do we have here?” His unassuming tone left me in shock, as he pulled out a familiar hot pink toy. I felt sick immediately. How dare I put my vibrator in a random box? It had serviced me so well, and here it was with the pizza cutter. It buzzed in Parker’s hand as he switched it on. “Still charged.” He announced.
“Don't you dare!” I screeched, snatching it from his hands and throwing it into the box, “Parker!” His name was all I could get out, my face popped like a red balloon. Ten minutes into living with each other, and I already wanted to die from embarrassment.
“No judgement here.” He flashed me a grin, the one that caused me to melt time and time again. Even after the rejection all those years back, we still managed to find our way to normalcy. My confession didn’t ruin our friendship, but something changed within me. I felt myself building up a wall again, the one my mother encouraged. I couldn’t lie, it killed me to hear his rejection, and moving in was a small reminder of that feeling, like he was taking in his little sister. But despite how I felt and what I confessed, Parker never once shut me out or made me feel weird. We were still just us, Parker and Gemma, best friends and overall trouble.
