Hillary pops into my thoughts a few times but I push her out. I still feel terrible about the way our last conversation ended. She was right. I didn’t tell her what I did for her own good or because she needed to hear it. I did it to be a bitch. Well, not intentionally to be a bitch, but I was so tired of her telling me what’s best for my life or how stupid the decisions I make are when her own decisions seem completely irrational. I end up on the couch in the Scott’s living room, watching a marathon of Property Brothers, like I do most days at home. I hear a knock at the door. It’s a little faint and I realize it’s coming from the kitchen. I’m not really sure what to do. I don’t know who would be here for the Scotts and I’m really not sure who they’ve informed about the nature of my stay. It wouldn’t be fun to explain everything to someone I don’t even know. I attempt to pull the curtain back inconspicuously and see a young woman in navy slacks and a pink sweater. When I see her face, I realize it’s Lisa and open the door for her.
“Hey! It’s so good to see you,” she says, giving me a hug. After a few seconds I hug her back. I have to get used to her being a hugger. I’m definitely not used to her looking like this. She’s dressed more conservatively than I ever imagined. The piercing in her nose has been removed, and the eye makeup toned down drastically.
“I look like a real school teacher now, don’t I? It was open house today.” She chuckles, reading my mind. She walks over to the kitchen table and plops down in one of the chairs.
“How are you?” she asks as she searches through her bag and pulls out a pair of red Chuck Taylors and a pair of socks.
“I’m good. Just here watching TV until everyone gets home” I say.
“Coolness,” she says after she slips out of her old lady shoes and puts on her socks. She lets out a relieved breath.
“They’re still over in Denton, right?” She gets up from the table and grabs an apple juice out of the refrigerator. She feels much more at home here than I probably ever will.
“For supplies, and Chris got called in to work today,” I reply.
“Caylen’s sleeping?” she asks, pulling her sweater over her head. Right there in the kitchen. She pulls out a black t-shirt with some type of emblem on it and slips it on.
“Yup,” I say, trying to avoid looking at her as she changes. Out the corner of my eye, I see her pull out a pair of white skinny jeans. If she slides off her pants I’m going to faint.
And she does, right in the middle of the Scotts’ kitchen. In front of me—a practical stranger—she’s changed her entire outfit.
This is Chris’ best friend.
“So how’s everything going?” she asks once she’s fully dressed
“Good.” I nod, not elaborating any further. I’m not sure what all Chris has shared with her about everything but I’m not going into any details. She seems cool and laid back but the stunt she pulled at the last dinner we had makes me think twice. Still, she keeps looking at me as if she expects me to say more.
“The Scotts are really nice.” Well that’s partially true. Mrs. Scott is really nice.
“Yeah they’re cool. They’re like my second family. As you probably can tell, they’re used to me. You’ll get used to me too,” she jokes, taking a swig of her apple juice.
“What’s that name on your shirt?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.
“Ardeby’s. It’s the bar where I work. It’s pretty popular. Well, for Madison, it’s pretty popular. I’m headed there after I leave here. You should come by before you leave. How long are you staying?” she asks excitedly.
“The plan is to stay for three weeks.”
“It’s the most exciting thing going here but the food sucks! I’ve been trying to get Chris to come down and play a set for the past year,” she says, pulling out her makeup bag. I forgot that Chris said he played the guitar.
“Is he good?” I ask curiously, and she smirks at me.
“You’ve never heard him play...Well, Cal play?” she corrects herself.
“No. Never,” I say, and for some reason, I feel embarrassed. I know I shouldn’t, but knowing there’s this huge part of his life I know nothing about still feels like a kick in the butt to me.
“Follow me to the bathroom, girly. I need to fix this real quick,” she says as she heads out of the kitchen.
“Chris is really good and I’m not just saying that because he’s my bestie. If he sucked, I’d tell you,” she jokes as I follow her into the bathroom. I lean in the doorway.
“That’s pretty cool.”
“He was in a band for a while until he started acting all bat shit and what not. Well, we thought he was just being an asshole back then, but now I guess it was his condition” she says as she says applies a ruby-red lip stick over her thin pink lips.
“Hey, what’s Cal like?” she asks as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m a little caught off guard by her question. I shouldn’t be since she practically displayed her naked body in front of me as if we’ve been friends for years.
“I don’t really feel comfortable talking about Cal,” I say honestly. I don’t know why, but it seems weird. She turns and frowns at me, then waves her hand.
“Come on. I’m going to be your new best friend and all. I’m sure you need someone to talk to about all this. I don’t judge. Let it out, girly.” She laughs, and it makes me laugh.
“I think I’ve met him before, “she says casually, but it shocks the hell out of me.
“I’ve never said anything to Chris. I just kind of thought it was a joke, him going through a phase or something,” she says off handedly.
“When?” I ask, trying to contain my interest.
“It was years ago. We were in high school,” she says simply. “You know. His condition, they say, or I mean when I googled it, they say it can come from something really bad happening to the person,” she says, and her carefree jovial expression drops, her tone more solemn.
“Yeah.” I sigh as well. I’ve read about most of these conditions stemming from terrible abuse. “Or a traumatic event,” I add and she nods.
“If Chris starts therapy, he’ll start to remember things, right? He’ll remember whatever caused this to happen?” she asks, looking up at me tentatively.
“I think that’s the goal.” I really haven’t stopped to think about what caused all this to happen. “Do you really think that’s best, if he’s fine and doing well? Who would want to remember something that terrible?” she says with a shrug. “What if it does more harm than good?” Her eyes are set on mine now.
“Well, it’s not exactly up to me. I just—I want him to be whole. For Caylen,” I state to her, and she smiles tightly, her expression cheering up. She goes back to finishing her eyeliner.
“You said you met Cal before,” I say, bringing the topic back to the forefront. She chuckles.
“Yeah. It was the summer before our senior year,” she says shortly. It’s funny because this girl seems to elaborate on everything but with this subject, she’s brief.