Page 62 of The Enemy: Extended Edition

“I’m in Ryan’s closet!” I sound hysterical.

“Did he put you in there?!”

“What? No. I came to Chicago with him because I love him, and now I’m sitting on the floor of his closet while he’s taking a shower.” I say it all like Stacy is the dumbest person in the world for not assuming that first.

There’s a long pause followed by Stacy starting to say something, but then pausing again, and then starting over. “Okay, Junie, you’re gonna have to start from the beginning, because I tried to catch myself up, and the dots just aren’t connecting. Why are you in his closet?”

Tears are streaming down my face, and I can’t stop them. “Because I think I might be in love with him! It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did, and he brought me here for a first date, and I never told you because I was sad that you’re moving, and I was trying to cut ties with you before you cut ties with me, but I can’t cut ties because I need you, and I think I might be a fraud feminist, because I’m completely happy here with Ryan, and I don’t want to be alone anymore, and I do want to buy your share of the company, but I’m too scared to run it on my own!”

“Heavens, woman, breathe!”

I do as she says, shutting my eyes and taking in a deep breath through my nose. Now that it’s all out, the tears have stopped, and I feel as if a boulder has just rolled off my back.

“Okay, first of all,” says Stacy, “you could never cut me out of your life even if you wanted to. Remember, we did that thing in eighth grade where we pricked our fingers and mixed our blood? So you’re stuck with me forever. Second, I’m pretty sure you have no idea what feminism is, so you need to do some research. Being independent doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.”

Oh no, I’m going to cry again.

“Third, you love Ryan? I thought you hated him. When did this happen?”

“About eighteen years ago.”

“JUNE! You’ve liked him all this time and kept it from me?!”

“I was embarrassed because I liked him so much, and I thought he didn’t like me at all. So I just hid it and channeled all my feelings toward hating him.”

“Yeah, I gathered that last part.” She pauses for a minute, and I let her digest. “Okay, so, wow. How does Ryan feel about you?”

“I think he really likes me too. I mean, I would guess he does because he’s been living at my house, and asked me on a date, and has been ridiculously patient with my craziness. Also, we’ve been making out a lot.”

“I’m going to pass out. You and Ryan are making out? Would it be weird if I asked for a photo of that?”

I laugh. “Stacy, we literally made out on the dance floor of your reception. I’m betting your photographer snapped a photo or two.”

“You did?! Where was I?”

“Staring longingly into Logan’s eyes.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah, it was nauseatingly sweet.”

And then Stacy and I carry on for another five minutes while she talks me down from my cliff just like I knew she would. It’s what we’ve always done for each other, and now I feel better knowing that it’s what we’ll always do.

After I’ve filled her in on every detail of life over the past couple of weeks, she says, “So what do you want going forward?”

I press my lips together and pull my knees up to my chest. “I want Ryan. But he lives here, and I live in Charleston. I don’t know how we can make it work.”

“Maybe he’ll move to Charleston for you.”

“What? No. No way. I could never ask him to do that.” Am I terrible for thinking of asking him to do that? Yes. I am terrible. I won’t do it.

“Okay . . . then if you are dead set against a long-distance relationship, another option would be for you to move to Chicago. You could probably make it work running Darlin’ Donuts long distance if you hired a good manager or something to run it.” That doesn’t sit well with me either.

At some point over the past week, my confidence has been rebuilding. I’ve started dreaming of owning the bakery alone. Making all the decisions. Proving to myself that I do have what it takes and forgiving myself for all the times I’ve given up too soon in the past.

And now my anxiety is coming back, and I just want to avoid this decision until I absolutely can’t anymore. “Well, I don’t have to decide tonight. I’ll let you go. Sorry for waking you up, by the way. It’s like, what, three A.M. there?”

She chuckles. “June, it’s only ten here . . . We’re about to start a movie.”

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