I pretend not to know what she’s talking about. “I just want to know about your latest adventure,” I tell her, trying to lead us away from the real motive behind her call.
“While deflecting questions about your own,” she adds.
“I’m not really going on an adventure,” I tell her.
“You’re going back home.”
I don’t know that I can call it that anymore. “Yes I am.”
“How do you feel?” Emely asks, not wasting a second and getting right to it. I don’t know when she became the girl who wanted to talk about feelings, but right now I need my party-first-ask-questions-later friend. I don’t want to think about my choices. I don’t want to think about what factors are driving me to make them.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. Fine could mean anything, in my book, so it’s not technically a lie.
“Fine… you know what they say it means when a woman tells you she’s fine.”
“No, what do they say?”
“That it stands for freaked out, insecure, nervous, and emotional. So if that’s the fine you’re feeling, then you are not okay.”
“I’m… I’m fin—” I start to say again, but Emely cuts me off.
“Amari, don’t lie to me. We’re like sisters, we always have been. We don’t lie to each other.”
“What do you want me to say?” I ask, knowing she won’t leave it alone until I give her what she wants.
“Just tell me the truth,” she says, taking on a compassionate tone I seldom hear from her. She’s usually laughing at everything. I don’t even know how she holds a corporate job. I guess it’s good that it revolves around entertainment, so it fits her personality perfectly.
I exhale loudly, trying to build up the courage to put words to my emotions. To talk about my fears. “It would be a lot easier to talk about this if you were here in person,” I say, stalling.
“I’m sorry I’m not there to help you with the move. I feel bad enough as is, but I couldn’t reschedule,” she says, matter-of-factly.
“It’s not your fault your job moved up the meeting,” I say, agreeing with her. She was supposed to be right here with me, but, alas, duty calls.
“Talk to me, Amari,” she presses.
“I’m scared.”
“To see him again?” she says, going straight to the source of my emotions.
I let out a sigh. Seeing him again is my biggest fear. “I haven’t heard anything about him. From him. I have no reason to think that he’s still there. But part of me can’t help…” I start but struggle to let the words out.
“Think about what would happen if you saw him again?” my best friend finishes my sentence.
“Should I be doing this? Is this stupid?” I ask, questioning my choice to go back for the millionth time since I made the decision in the first place.
“It’s not stupid. It’s an opportunity. You’ll get to be an elementary school principal,” she tells me the same words she’s been repeating to me for a while now.
I’ve been a teacher for two years in a system where I feel I can’t do anything. I’m just supposed to follow orders, even though I know it’s not the best for the kids. This is supposed to be different. “Right,” I say, agreeing with her because I know it makes sense.
“This is an opportunity to not only build your resume but also to not have to answer to anyone,” she adds.
“Well… I’ve got to answer to the board.”
“You also get to live on your own and not with annoying roommates” Emely says, ignoring my comment. I’ve been rooming with someone my entire adult life. At first it was college, and after college I couldn’t afford my own apartment, so I moved in with her. Now, I get to move into my old house.
“I lived with you,” I remind her.
“Yeah and hated it!” she yells back.
“Not my fault you’re messy.” She is. Leaves her clothes everywhere; I always felt like I had to be her parent and organize everything for her. It’s the least I could do though since she helped pick my life up from the mess he left behind.
“Whatever,” she replies and I know for a fact she’s rolling her eyes.
“Are you staying at your parents’ house?”
“Yes I am.” My parents left Forest Pines shortly after I did. They always wanted to move somewhere near the beach, so they settled in Newport, Rhode Island.
They never sold their house though. They said it was my childhood home and would always be there. They gifted it to me and told me I could sell it if I wanted to.
I considered putting it up on the market.
I wanted to.
And I didn’t want to.
I knew my parents hoped I’d go back to my hometown eventually. I avoided going back to FP while they were still living there, coming up with any excuse I could find. For a while, my parents visited me, and when they moved, I had no reason to go back there. No reason to make a six-hour drive down memory lane.
No reason until now.
Now, I’m coming back to stay.
“See, it’s a good choice and an amazing opportunity.”
“With a high risk.” I’m risking seeing him again and having all the pieces I picked up after he broke me fall apart.
“He probably doesn’t even live there anymore. He had plenty of other opportunities, so he’s probably gone with no desire to ever return.” I know Emely’s words are supposed to make me feel better, but the tightness I feel in my chest makes me question what it is I fear most. To see him or to learn he’s gone. That he’s moved on.
“You’re right.”
“And if he is there, you better tell me right away so I can get my ass on a plane and plant my foot on his face.” Her words cause the tension within me to dissolve into laughter.
When I finally stop laughing, I say to her, “I love you.”
“Same here, girl. Same here.”
“I’m going to be so much farther from you now,” I complain.
“Distance has never kept us away before,” she reminds me. That’s true. We went to colleges in different states but managed to keep our friendship going despite the hundreds of miles in between. We got together as often as we could. We vented to each other. We Skyped and Facetimed. Even from afar, she comforted me while I cried myself to sleep every night for weeks.
Because of him.
“How long till you’re there?” she asks.
“I just left, so basically I’ve got about six hours.” Not long enough.
“Great. Well, I’ve gotta go get ready for this meeting. Message me once you get in and get settled and I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Alright.”
“And, Amari?”
“Yes?”
“Remember you’re stronger than you think.”
“I know, I know.” I hang up and blast some music as I drive to the place I brokenly drove away from six years ago. I let the music drown out my thoughts, afraid if I don’t my thoughts will eventually drown me.
3
AMARI