Page 49 of Chasing Fireflies

“Hey,” I say, standing up.

“Tell Maci she looks good,” Leigh says with pursed lips. “She keeps saying she thinks her butt looks big in those jeans, and I think it looks just right.”

“Let me see,” I say. Maci turns around and shows me. “You look fine to me.”

“But these jeans are so tight, I feel like you can see my cellulite,” she says, and I see her dart her eyes over at Banner.

“What cellulite?” Leigh asks, sliding onto a barstool and signaling for Banner. “I’ve seen you in a bathing suit. You have none.”

“You must have not looked good enough because I have some,” she whispers harshly.

“Why are you whispering?” Leigh asks and looks at me, likehas Maci gone nuts?

“Banner, I’d like a beer, please,” Maci says, ignoring Leigh.

“Me, too,” Leigh says quickly.

“Coming up, ladies.”

“So, how are things?” I ask Maci.

“Things are okay,” she lies. Banner puts two beers on the bar, which Maci gladly takes after she gives him a small smile.

“Cut the shit,” Leigh says after taking a sip of hers. “This is us. If you’re hurting, tell us. If you’re sad, we’re the girls you can cry in front of. The girls who don’t give a crap about your makeup running or how your face looks when you ugly cry. If you’re mad, we’ll go smash some shit and get some frustration out. But don’t play like this is okay, like this was just a bad breakup in high school and the guy won’t give you back the nude pics you gave him.”

Maci sighs. “Okay,” she says. “Banner, pour us some shots.” He does, and Maci tosses hers back and slams the shot glass down for a refill, which Banner obliges with a sly grin. She wipes her mouth and looks down at the bar, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’m sad,” she says, looking back up. She looks past me, though obviously looking to see if Banner has walked off. He has. “Every day,” she continues. “It’s hard for me to climb out of bed. It’s hard for me to find the care to brush my teeth. My heart hurts, as though it’s literally been torn from my chest and slammed back in.” She rubs her face and grabs her beer. “He broke me. He was my world, and he took advantage of my love and my trust and he broke them all.” Heartache wipes a stray tear from her cheek and looks over at us. “Some nights I pray for the sun not to shine.”

“I know exactly how you feel,” I tell her. “I feel like this for no reason. A lot more than I’d like to admit.”

“What do you do about it?”

I smirk. “My scars are on the outside, Maci.”

Her face sobers, and she looks down. “I’m sorry, Sara. That was a stupid question.”

“No, it wasn’t. You’re my friends. Like Leigh says, there’s no point in tiptoeing around the lion. He’ll know you’re there. Might as well face him and get it over with. I was sad. I didn’t want to be sad anymore. I didn’t want to hurt anymore, so I made a decision.”

“My mom killed herself,” Leigh says. Maci and I look over at her. She looks at her drink. “I walked into her bathroom when I was a kid, and she was lying on the floor with her wrist pouring blood. If I had been older, maybe I could have saved her. But I wasn’t.” She looks up at me. “I’m sorry, Sara, but I can only think that’s a selfish thing to do.”

“I can see how you would think that as a person viewing it from the outside,” I say as Banner pours us another round of shots, “but depression is a disease only the depressed understand, and even then there are so many questions that just have no answers.”

*

Maci dances freely on the open dance floor, laughing and running her hands through her hair. Bright red skates over her pretty pale skin, and she smiles like she hasn’t in weeks. Leigh joins her when she walks out of the restroom, and then I get called over. Music flows through our ears, and alcohol swims through our veins. The night has been long, but like all nights with good friends, it hasn’t been long enough. I love these girls like family, and they give me just one more reason to keep going even when it’s hard.

*

I prop my feet up onto Leigh’s lap, and Maci pulls a chair over and puts her legs up, too. She’s giggly drunk, and Leigh clutches a glass of beer.

“I met Mark when I was in the seventh grade,” Leigh tells us. “I’ve never been with anyone but him.”

“I’ve only been with Cash.”

“And I’ve only been with Lucas.”

“Don’t you think we missed out?” Leigh asks.

“On what?” I say.

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