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• • •
I spend most of the morning happily working my way through the list Jazmine has left for me. By eleven, I’m completely caught up, so I check in on the group chat that I’ve barely even opened since everything happened with Josh. Every time I looked at my phone, there seemed to be a million messages, but I couldn’t bring myself to read through all of them—the updates, the invites I never responded to, the gossip. More often than not, I’d just open the chat and close it to rid myself of the annoying notification icon and constant reminder that everyone else’s lives were still moving along and mine, well, wasn’t.
Now that I’m paying attention, I see just how often and for how long my friends reached out and tried to include me.
In those early weeks, I was so humiliated, so ashamed at having held on so hard to someone who didn’t love or want me the way I loved and wanted them, that I couldn’t face my friends. I never even considered that they might have needed me for some crisis of their own.
The person who shows up the most often and held on the longest is Katrina.
I consider texting her an apology right now, but I don’t know if she’d even open it. After the way I’ve behaved, the way I cut her out, she deserves the chance to reject me in person.
It’s almost eleven thirty—late enough to take my lunch break. Jazmine isn’t due in until one thirty. Before I can chicken out, I walk out of the office building and across Lenox Road to Phipps Plaza, where I buy a Starbucks Grande Caramel Macchiato—Katrina’s favorite—and walk toward the entrance to Saks Fifth Avenue, where she works.
I’m in the mall . . . usual spot . . . pls come for just a minute? I text. While I wait for what would have once been an instant response, I offer up a small prayer for forgiveness.
Seriously??? thought you probably blocked me.
No. Sorry! We used to text and speak a million times a day, and now I don’t know what to say. Pls come down.
I wait with the macchiato in my hand for what feels like forever. I’m about to give up when she comes out the glass door and sweeps into the mall wearing a black jumpsuit that shows off her figure. Her makeup is flawless. Her blond hair is pulled back in the perfect messy bun. We are both blondes, but I have always been a miniature Daisy Duke to her Grace Kelly.
Heart pounding, I hold up the macchiato.
She ignores it.
“How are you?” I ask in a wobbly voice, hoping we can maybe work up to the hard part. But she’s not having it.
“I tried to be there for you, Erin. But you just ignored all of us like we didn’t even exist anymore.”
“I know. I’m . . . sorry.” Although I came here to apologize, I’m having trouble getting the words out. “I’ve been so stupid.”
Her stare is long and hard. I have no idea what’s coming next or what I’ll do if she turns her back on me and walks away.
“Then I tried to let you know that I got that job in New York.”
“Oh my gosh!” My brain can’t quite pivot the way it needs to. Katrina has wanted to move to New York and work in fashion since we were kids. She majored in Fashion Merchandising while we were at Georgia, studied abroad in London, and did a New York study tour. For the last two years, she’s worked in the designer department at Saks. She was the one who helped me and my mom pick out my wedding dress and got us her employee discount. “That’s . . . oh my God, that’s incredible!”
“Yeah.” I see the flicker of pride in her eyes, but she is still totally pissed. Forgiveness is not a given. “It would have been even more incredible if you’d bothered to respond. Or congratulated Amber on her promotion. Or Kelsey on her engagement. I mean, Josh was an asshole for waiting till the last minute like he did. But if it were me, I’d rather know before I walked down the aisle. You just ghosted all of us like he was the only person on earth who ever mattered.”
I flush with shame at the truth of it. “I’m so, so sorry.” I have been a needy ball of self-centeredness. “I . . .” I swallow. “I’ve been such an incredibly shitty friend.”
“The shittiest,” she agrees without hesitation. “You just threw us out like we were nothing to you. Everyone’s been so afraid of upsetting you, but Josh wasn’t the perfect man or anything. If you hadn’t worked at it so hard, you guys would have been done after graduation like most everybody else.” Her voice breaks.
Tears stream down my face. “You could never be nothing. I just couldn’t think. I was afraid to think. It was like all my brain cells got sucked out and . . .” My voice trails off. “I lost it. I lost my frickin’ mind. And I am really, truly sorry.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t leave, either. Tears slide down my cheeks. I feel people staring, but I don’t even swipe at my cheeks while I wait for her to speak. “Would you . . . could I maybe take you out for a drink after work before you leave town?”
There’s a huff, and I think she’s going to blow me off completely and there will be nothing I can do about it. I deserve to be kicked to the curb. But I’m not going to be the first to move or leave. I’m still standing there, holding on to the Starbucks cup, when she takes it out of my hand and says, “Let me check and see what’s being planned. There might be a going-away party. If you’re feeling up to it.”
Relief gushes through me. While I’m not exactly forgiven, she didn’t tell me to f-off, either. “If there is one, I would totally love to come and celebrate with you.”
Another huff. Softer this time. The road back into Katrina’s good graces can be long and winding. Before I can react, she turns and walks back into Saks.
I owe a lot of people apologies, and there will be many butts to kiss, but for the first time since Josh called off our wedding, I feel equal to the task. More importantly, I want my friends back. And my life. And this job.
Just before Jazmine’s supposed to be in, I place a copy of Bill Bryson’s book on her desk as a thank-you gift for taking me with her to book club. And hiring me. And everything.
I picked it up at Between the Covers over the weekend, and I got one for myself, too, because I want to give book club a try. Everybody there was pretty cool. And if I’m going to move on and let go of the idea of Josh, I’m going to need to stay busy. Plus, the more friends the better.
I might even go back and buy the online dating book. My stomach feels kind of funny at the idea of kissing—or even going out with—someone who isn’t Josh. But I’m going to have to start somewhere, right? I don’t know if the advice will apply to me—I mean, I’m pretty sure Meena’s even older than my mother—but it couldn’t hurt to practice around people who don’t know what they’re doing, either. And it’s not like we’d be competing for the same guys. Okay, that thought makes me laugh out loud.