“Fatal Bullying.”
They were laughing as they went through the titles, but it was the silence that followed that Letty appreciated most. It was the equivalent of settling into an overstuffed leather seat after three hundred miles of hiking. Everything about it was comfortable—even the way Lydia watched her steadily as she took another bite of her sandwich.
It was a patiently waiting kind of look, she knew.
Not a stop eating, you fatty kind of look.
“So what did he do to you? Like insults and things?”
“He sat in the passenger seat while his friend rammed me off a cliff with his truck.”
This time, the silence was a little less comfortable. For a start, Lydia’s mouth was open through it. And then there were her eyes: suddenly pitch-black and as wide as moons.
“Okay, just so you know, never let your new buddy make stupid Lifetime movie jokes when all the while that is a thing that happened to you. Holy shit, Letty, I’m so sorry.”
“No, to be honest it’s better if you keep them coming. That way I don’t have to think about it too much.”
“How about we call your movie Attempted Murder.”
“It wasn’t attempted murder,” she said, though she had no idea why she did. To make it seem more palatable to her friend? Or to make her conversations with Tate more palatable, in light of it? Neither seemed acceptable. “Or at least, that’s what the cops said, after Jason told them it was an accident.”
“Jesus. They just bought it? He says my foot slipped and they believe him?”
“He was a high school wrestling champ. So was Tate.”
That darkness in Lydia’s eyes shifted then. Became something sharper somehow, yet no less comforting. Clearly, Lydia would never tell her that she had to stop doing whatever she was doing that goaded Tate. There would be no calls to the college’s office to talk about the transfer she should get, instead of the one he should. Just like that, someone who was not her family was on her side.
“That is fucked up. That fuck is so upped it might never get down again.”
The laugh startled Lydia when it came out. But it startled Letty more. It wasn’t even brittle or bitter—it was full-bodied and thrumming with life. Like the sort of laugh she heard other people sharing all the time.
And when Lydia tentatively joined in it was just…
It was like slipping into a suit of normality.
“Man, you are really easy to talk to—I feel about a thousand pounds lighter. Mentally, that is. Physically I just finished off half a pound of premium cheddar.”
“I think a half pound of premium cheddar is warranted, to be honest.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t feel so bad about it lately.”
“Maybe it’s just that you have some distance now.”
She shook her head and came very close to doing something normal friends did.
Like squeezing Lydia’s hand. Or giving her a hug.
“No, it’s definitely that you are super awesome. I mean, I have zero distance from it right now. The accomplice to the attempted murder just sort of apologized to me in a stairwell,” she said, half laughing over it as she did. So it came as a shock when the half laugh suddenly tipped over into something else. One second it was light and happy, the next it sounded almost like a sob.
And then it sounded a lot like a sob.
A big, wrenching one that she had to cover her mouth to contain.
Much to Lydia’s consternation.
“Oh my god, Letty, okay. Okay, babe, it’s okay. It’s fine…hey, it’s going to be fine,” she said, and then that hug was suddenly happening. Arms were surrounding her. Strong, insistent arms, squeezing tight without having to ask. When Letty finally managed words, she had to do it from within the tight swaddling of the greatest embrace she’d ever experienced.
And they were better for it.
More honest. More heartfelt.
“No, no, you don’t understand. I’m not crying because I’m afraid or sad. I keep trying to be, but then I think about how much I longed for and dreamed of getting some kind of sorry, how hard I knew that it would never come because in dismal reality it never does, and then he’s just here and he says that he’s in the red. He says he’s in the red and that it’s going to take tons of good deeds to put him in the black.” Another sob snuck out, wet and rough against Lydia’s neat little red sweater. Not that Lydia minded. She was busy stroking her hair and helping her get the rest out. “He told me that I’m at my very best, when he was at his worst. Who says something like that in real life? No one says that in real life.”
“That is true. And it’s definitely awesome. Way better than a Lifetime movie. But to be clear on this, no matter how much he contravenes the laws of dismal reality, you don’t have to forgive him,” Lydia said.
“I know. I know.”
“He didn’t just sit by and let that dude do that to you. He stole your self-esteem.”