“Yeah,” I answer as Ethan shouts, “Hi, Brie!”
“Dude, that is not cool! You tell a girl before you put her on speakerphone! Jeez, I could have said anything!”
“When has that ever stopped you before?” I smile.
“Ugh, I’m wounded Blair!” She sighs theatrically. I’m sure if I were standing with her right now, she’d have her wrist to her brow; she has a real flair for the dramatic.
“So, seriously though, can we see you guys tonight or not? If you need time to get sorted, or freakeyyyy,” she sings. “We can come by some other time.”
I look at Ethan for confirmation and he answers for me.
“We’ll be back within the hour. Give me time to drop Blair home with her bags so she can see her mom. Then maybe y’all can come over around eight?”
He looks at me for confirmation and I nod as Brie tells him it’s a date and will see us both soon.
“You sure you’re up to this?” I ask, once the call has disconnected.
“Yeah, it’s only Brie and Jackson. It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I smile. He’s been quiet and looked pretty down since we left IHOP, maybe seeing a friend will cheer him up a little. I cross my fingers and lean back in my seat, waiting for him to initiate a conversation. He doesn’t; instead he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and my heart squeezes a little bit more.
I’VE BEEN RACKING my brain since we were at the restaurant where Blair had mentioned Em’s death. The name is familiar to me, and I couldn’t place why until I dropped Blair off at her house (which, by the way, I needed directions to. How fucked up is it that I didn’t know how to get to my own girl’s house?) I carried her things up to her room as she stood hugging her mom in the hall like she hadn’t seen her in years. It made me smile; I love that she has that with her mom; I wish I had it with mine. I placed her duffle on her bed and looked around her room. I even sniffed her pillow. I’m a goddamn creeper. That’s when I noticed it—the picture on her noticeboard. It was of me at my locker and Em standing to the side, but still in the forefront of the picture. It was strange, like she was supposed to be the focal point but instead I was. I walked over to get a closer look, and that’s when I was flat out assaulted with the images of Blair crying while I shouted at her about being part of Emily’s bucket list. I needed to spend a few minutes trying to jumble through the mixed-up memories, but they were there. We’d argued about her crossing me off as a checkbox on her dead best friend’s list. I’d left her at the campsite where we’d collected our shit yesterday, and went and got trashed at a dive bar.
I know I’m still missing some vital points to complete the picture, but I don’t want to ask Blair to fill them in for me. I’m pretty sure that we got past the argument, but I have a weird feeling that I’m still pissed at her. I just don’t remember why. Maybe it’s because it feels new again and I need a while to get my head around it. Perhaps it’s just my newfound insecurity but she regarded me with such a strange look when I finally returned downstairs, I’m finding it hard to stay confident when I know I’m still partially in the dark.
I made small talk with Susan for a few minutes and assured her that I would go and collect my medication and check in with the hospital in the morning. Blair followed me out to my car and gave me a kiss, declaring she’d be coming over to my place at eight before I headed home.