“With the shoe!” Roxy bursts out. “Mon dieu, the shoe!”
“I thought Monroe was going to kill me.”
“I thought Monroe was going to killme, and I didn’t even do anything,” Roxanne admits.
“I think she wanted to kill everyone.”
We both start laughing so hard we have to lean against the wall, reliving one of the very few times we got Monroe to go into a night club.
“But do you remember why we went out that night?” Roxanne prompts when we can breathe again. “It was because that asshole who used to own Taverne Toulouse was being a dick to Monroe, and Cole and I were fighting again, and the two of us just kept moaning at work about how much our lives sucked until you said enough was enough. You somehow convinced us to close the bar early, wear those horribly unflattering sparkle shirts and ridiculous heels, and get very drunk before marching into a club full of college kids—and somehow, it made us feel better. You always make everyone feel better. I...I want to be there to make you feel better too.”
I sniff and run my hand under my eyes.
No crying. No more crying.
I have cried so much lately.
“Aww,chérie, that is so sweet. Really. You are the best, but I’m okay.”
She gives me a look that tells me to cut the bullshit.
“Okay, so I am a little not okay, but I will be fine. I am always fine.”
Her face doesn’t change.
“Okay, you got me!” I hold my hands up like I’m guilty. “Everything is bad, and I don’t know what to do, and instead of trying to learn to be alone like I’m supposed to, I just lie on my couch and cry into bowls of potato chips and think I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.”
I stare down at the pile of shoes Valérie and I keep by the door. We’re supposed to get a shoe rack, but we both keep forgetting to buy it. I wait for Roxanne to ask me what the hell I’m talking about. I’m sure what I said didn’t make any sense. She can’t know everything that happened with Zach because even Monroe doesn’t know everything that happened with Zach, but when I finally look back up at her, she’s watching me like she knows exactly what I meant—like she’s felt it too.
“I know it’s hard. Trust me, I know. Walking away from someone you don’t actually want to leave is...There’s no pain like that, and knowing it’s the best thing for both of you doesn’t make it any easier, no matter what people say. It actually makes it harder.”
I blink at her, and she shuffles a little closer to me along the wall so that our shoulders are touching.
“I know you feel like you have to be on your own right now, but...how about we spend the day together? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can just do something fun.”
I sigh. “I always do something fun instead of feeling sad. Maybe I just need to be sad.”
“Wow, so emo,” she jokes, bumping my arm. “No offence, but you said yourself that you’re not getting anything out of lying on the couch all day. Just take a little sadness break. Please. You can go back to your potato chips later.”
“I ate so many.” I groan, holding my stomach. “But they’re so good. They fill the emptiness in my heart.”
“Drama queen,” she teases. “Come on. I already bought tickets, so you have to come.”
I perk up a little in spite of myself. “Tickets?”
“Yes, tickets, but you won’t find out to what if you don’t come.”
Letting Roxanne pull me out of the house to do something fun and forget about my problems sounds like opposite of dealing with them, but I meant what I said: the only thinking I’ve done has made me feel like a totalconnard.
I pushed away the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I pushed away the guy who I’m starting to realize was the only one who ever really cared, and for what? Potato chips? I thought walking away from him would turn me into this strong, badass woman who makes responsible choices, but all it did was leave me waking up sweating every single night and wishing I could run through the streets of Montreal in my PJs to find him and let him hold me.
Not that he would evenwantto hold me now.
It’s been three weeks, though, and reading self-help articles on the internet and procrastinating about calling my psychologist before dragging my ass to the bar for my shifts hasn’t done anything for me.
Roxy coaxes me into putting some real clothes on. I put my hair up in space buns to hide how greasy it is and to make me feel like I can still be cute. After a little lipstick and some mascara, I look like a human again.
“Where are we going?” I ask for the millionth time as Roxanne and I take the metro down towards the river.
