Page 100 of We Used To Be Magic

‘Sure.’ She nods, leaning back in her chair. ‘Sometimes it feels like the more I care about a piece, the bigger the backlash. It can get scary, but I’ve never regretted it. Can’t let the fuckers get you down, you know?’

‘I think you’re the brave one,’ I tell her sincerely, and she smiles.

‘We can both be brave, I think,’ she says. ‘That’s allowed.’

When I messaged Marika to ask if I could see her today, I figured that she’d probably wonder what brought on my sudden change of heart. But she only wanted to know where to meet me, and what time, which is how I come to find her in the biography section of a Lower East Side bookstore, a stack of hardbacks balanced casually on her hip. Typical Marika, making book shopping look like a high-fashion editorial.

‘Found anything good?’ I ask lightly, and she turns to look at me. For a moment, we just stare at each other. Then she unceremoniously dumps the books on to a stool and rushes forward, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. Tears sting myeyes as her hair tickles my cheek – I’ve missed her more than I thought possible.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, voice muffled. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have …’

‘There’s nothing you could have—’

‘No, I should have come to you right away. I just wanted to be wrong; I wanted Ezra to be wrong.’

‘I’m sorry too. Everything I said … I didn’t mean it. And I never wanted to lie, I just—’

‘I should have known. And his studio, I – Audrey, I should have stayed—’

‘No,’ I say seriously, stepping back and putting my hands on her shoulders. ‘It’s not on you. It’s not on either of us, okay?’

Marika nods, lips pressed tightly together, eyes shining – she’s on the verge of tears, I realise, and if she starts crying …

‘We don’t have to talk about it all right now,’ I say quickly, voice wavering. ‘Tell me what’s new with you, okay? Please?’

Marika takes a second to compose herself, raising her eyes to the ceiling and blinking rapidly as she lets out a long, drawn-out exhale. Then-

‘Switzerland.’

‘Switzerland?’ I echo. She nods.

‘I booked a shoot there,’ she says haltingly. ‘It’s a campaign for a watch brand. Imogene called to tell me this morning. And it’s a long flight, so …’

She gestures vaguely to her abandoned pile of books, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

‘That’s amazing.’ I smile. ‘And … it’s a big brand?’

She seems to hesitate, then nods – ofcourseit’s big. They’re flying her out to Switzerland – how could it be anything but? This is a huge deal, and though she’s trying to be modest, we both know that this could beit– the big, life-changing job that catapults her up into the stratosphere. And she deserves it.This, and every other incredible thing coming her way, which is why it’s easy to ignore the tiny little pit of loss in my stomach. Because I don’t know when I’ll see her after this. It’s another goodbye, only this time I’m on the receiving end.

It hurts. But right now, I only want my friend to know how happy I am for her.

‘That’sincredible.’ I beam. ‘Take pictures of everything, okay? I want to hear all about it.’

‘I will,’ she says, offering a wan smile. ‘Leaving feels weird, though. We’ve been here so long. Or – notsolong, but …’

‘Long enough for it to matter,’ I conclude and something flickers behind Marika’s eyes.

‘Yeah,’ she says softly. Then, after a beat, ‘Are you hungry?’

I’m starving, it turns out, and so we take a table at a kitschy-looking diner nearby. It’s our last supper, we decide, so we go all out – hot dogs with relish, salty shoestring fries, vanilla milkshakes so thick that it’s a struggle to suck them through our straws. We eat it all, and we sit together for a long time after we’re done, huddled in a booth beside a window. I finally tell Marika everything that happened, and it’s different from when I talked to Demi. There’s no distance. She doesn’t ask questions – I’m monologuing, and I find myself going in circles, stumbling over words. I inevitably start to cry at one point, and when Marika wordlessly hands me a napkin, I see that she’s crying too. It cuts me to the bone, and I wonder if there’ll ever be a place for all this pain to go. It’s not fair that she should have to feel it too.

We order coffee afterwards and drink it slowly, sleepily. Hesitantly, Marika tells me that she’s scared to leave. Scared of losing momentum, scared of being forgotten. She doesn’t mention Nicole specifically, but I tell her that even a passer-by on the street would struggle to forget her, let alone a girl who’s so obviously in love. She smiles, then, and the way that the dyingsun lights up her face – I’m suddenly so aware that this will all be a memory soon.

But a good one, in spite of it all. Something to hold on to.

EZRA

IT’S ABOUTMIDDAY WHENTHERE’S AKNOCK ATTHE DOOR– Caroline’s door. I’m still pretending to be asleep on her sofa, so it’s an unwelcome surprise when she stretches her leg over from the armchair and nudges me with her foot.

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