Page 51 of Old Acquaintances

I tell Jen, “You haven’t been together very long, have you?”

“Since July.” She peels her orange.

“That’s so soon.”

“Well, when you know youknow.”

I stop chewing. “But how do you know? Is there some big lightning bolt that crashes down and saysthis person, this is the one, marry him, love him? And…how do you know when it is love? What’s the switch from like or lust to love?”

She straightens up. She’s taking her time, thinking about her answer, making me like her more for it. I appreciate the reflection. I want a true answer from someone who’s jumped off that cliff because I’ve only just realized my car is parked there. At the junction of diving off the deep end and getting swallowed into a black hole. Calling it love or calling it nothing.

I think Jen’s going to answer, but she hesitates. “Are you okay?”

I love you, Ella.

I close my eyes, my toes edged up to the drop-off. “Does Johnny ever talk about Tucker?”

“Sure.”

“What does he say?”

“Just that they’ve been friends since they were kids.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t talk about him much.” She follows my eyes and my train of thought. “He was excited about the two of you being here together. He wants things to be like when you were kids. He said you and Tucker don’t get along.”

“We don’t. Well…” I consider it. “We fought a lot when we were younger. But then we kind of got over it and we became more friend-like. There were times when I thought he understood me better than I understood myself. Sometimes I thought he cared about me more than anyone else did. Now, I hate him.”

“That’s a strong word.”

Oh yeah. Is that one of those words she wasn’t allowed to say as a child? I threw it around to Tucker and my sisters like candy at a parade.

“It is strong,” I agree.

“Johnny told me about your accident. He seems to think that’s why you’re angry at Tucker?”

“It is.”

When I woke up in the hospital, I remember seeing my parents and sisters, the nurses and the doctor. They all blurred around me. I felt alone. On a raft out at sea and no one understood what I felt. My friends showed up, Lori showed up, her step-sons showed up. The one person who belonged as both my family and frienddidn’tshow up.

My lips press together, and my eyes burn.

It’s coming. The tears are coming, and I can’t stop them because I can’t stop this horrible train of thought. I don’t want to say it, but it’s going to come out anyway.

“Jen, Tucker and I done things together,” I blurt out. I stare through the window at Tucker’s back. “Intimate things. Graphic. And it’s not like Ilovehim because he’s done thesethingsto me - I’m not saying that at all - but we walked this fine line a lot, like a lot,a lot, and we made it so that we could never bejust friendsand he made me feel so loved and safe.”

I tear my eyes away from him, to the orange in my hand, the sting of juice on a cut on my forefinger. “I know he’s attracted to me – he’s stuck his tongue down my throat more than once and copped a feel like my boobs belonged to him – but it’s more than that. He has this sense where he always knows what’s wrong with me, and when I was in pain, I knew he would show up! I just knew it. But he didn’t. For the first time in my entire life, he wasn’t there when I needed him. Even when I didn’t need him, he was always there. And I don’t know why he didn’t see me in the hospital. It doesn’t make sense. I mean, when someone looks at you the way that Tucker looked at me for all of those years -” I stop.

She’s horrified. Her mouth is wide open, her eyes frozen on the kitchen island.

I look down to make sure a nipple hasn’t popped out, that I haven’t lost an eyeball, that she’s only looking at me with such shock because of my words.

I start, “Oh my gosh, Jen, I’m so sorry!”

She slides carefully out of her chair.

“I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you. I just can’t tell anyone else.”

“It’s okay.” She gives me a pacifying smile and I hear the patio doors slide open. She squirms. “I’m not good at processing that kind of information.”

We both look up at Tucker who stands in the kitchen with his hair slicked back, his skin damp, his hands knotted together. “What?” he asks.

---