Page 25 of Dear Ripley

I winced.

I deserved that, I supposed. Everyone’s warm, fuzzy hopes of us making amends and getting back together were long gone.

Reaching out to her had been a mistake. I’d only done it because I felt like she deserved an apology for the way I’d run out of the shop like… well, like she was a disease, I suppose. The whole thing was awkward and inelegant, and not at all how I’d hoped things would go if we had to run into each other, but I hadn’t been able to think. The sight of her, the memories of her… it was all too much.

I wasn’t a fan of the whole idea that forgiveness was easier than consent, but, in this particular case, my brain had deserted me, leaving me with nothing but the instinct to flee. And, in light of that, an apology had felt like the only thing to do. When Joel had mentioned being able to get a message to her, well, it had seemed like a no-brainer. Now, I could see why it probably should have been a brain-engaged decision.

“I’m guessing it’s not great?” Harlow edged after several minutes of me staring at the card.

“You could say that,” I mumbled, feeling my face burning. I could only imagine how red I must look. My skin was very fair and blushes practically glowed on it.

“I’ll make some tea.”

I reached out to grab her arm as she moved from the sofa. “No, I’ll do it. Here.”

She took the note as I moved towards the kitchen. I could have kept it to myself, or just given her the gist of it, but, no matter how mortified I was, what difference did it make? Harlow was my best friend. She’d been there for the rest of it. And, thanks to my ridiculousness, the Ripley thing wasn’t going away. Much easier to just give Harlow the note and be done with it.

She followed me into the kitchen. “What does this mean?”

I sighed. “I sent her a note through Joel. I was trying to apologize for the awkwardness last week. But I…”

“Missed the mark?”

“Apparently.”

She thought about it for a moment, slipping into one of the seats at the kitchen island. “So, what you’re saying is that after your horribly awkward encounter on Thursday, you reached out via handwritten note, she read it, and got so furiously angry that she sent you an angry note in return along with a flower?”

“Yeah, that about covers it.” What had my life become in the last week?

Harlow giggled excitedly. Whatever life had become, she clearly hadn’t gotten the message that it wasn’t good.

“This is amazing,” she said, clapping her hands together just like her mother.

I turned, staring at her. “How, exactly?”

She rolled her eyes like I was the ridiculous one here. “How can’t you see it? Nobody sends a note like this if they’re not in love with you.”

I reached out to snatch the note back from where she was waving it in the air. “I don’t know what you’ve been watching lately, but people who send scathing notes aren’t generally the ones who love you. Flowers? Sure. Notes? Sure. Not fuck off notes and flowers, though. Very different energy.”

“Nonsense,” she insisted. “That note issomanyfeelings. Plus, she sent a flower. I don’t care if it’s one with a bad meaning, she still took the time to choose it, package it, drop it off… She totally still has feelings for you.”

“Yes. She feels like I need to die.”

“No,” she whined loudly. “Notthosetypes of feelings at all.”

She jumped up, running from the room. I only had a few moments to wonder what she was doing before she was back, brandishing a notepad and pen. “You have to write back.”

I laughed. “I absolutely do not.”

“Yes, you do. You started this and—”

“And Ripley’s ended it. Over. Done.”

“Not over. Not done.” She gestured to the notecard again. “There’s still so many feelings there. And I know you want to pretend you’re done with her, but, if you were, you wouldn’t have freaked out in the store, and you wouldn’t have sent her an apology in the first place. So, you have to make it right. Write her the letter you want to send her.”

“I don’t want to send her anything. And she clearly doesn’t want me to send her anything either.”

She groaned like I was being purposely frustrating. “She does though. She sent you aflower. She wants to hear from you. And this is the only way you’re going to get through this so you can be in town for me and the baby. Do it for me, Alicia. Do it for your future nibling.”

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