Page 22 of She Used to Be Nice
Kevin responded immediately.That woman needs a lobotomy
Back at her desk, Avery researched the different social media accounts of other publications, includingNew YorkMagazine,Cosmopolitan, and other places she’d once dreamed of writing for. As she worked, the thunderous sound of applause came from the writers’ meeting across the hall. She watched the writers through the glass wall of their conference room, willing herself to get up. Her project could wait another hour. She should go over there and pitch something. Take a seat at the table, as they say. Or, better yet, just approach the damn door.
But she couldn’t do it. She’d lost her voice and, in truth, she’d probably never find it again.
Later that week, Avery headed to Morgan and Charlie’s apartment after work to flip through bridal magazines with Morgan while Charlie was out with his coworkers. Morgan had already researched so many dresses online, but for more inspiration, she enlisted Avery’s help to make mood board collages using cut-outs from paper magazines. Avery was excited and ready, bottle of red wine in hand. She might be the fuckup who ruined her relationship with Ryan, but one thing you couldn’t say about her was that she was a bad friend.
The lobby of Morgan and Charlie’s apartment building in Lenox Hill was decorated with bouquets of flowers set atop an assortment of oak side tables. Across a brown leather couch set, a massive red brick fireplace carved into the wall roared with flames. Under Avery’s feet was a large ornate Turkish rug, and beyond the lobby, black-and-white tile flooring stretched down the hall toward a gold-rimmed elevator. When Avery first visited during the summer after graduation, right off the heels of senior year, she had joked to Morgan that she understood why Morgan didn’t want to room together, because Avery was way too poor and unremarkable to live in a place like this. With a frown, Morgan had replied that wasn’t the reason they weren’t roommates in the city and Avery knew that, but by that point Avery’s need to disparage herself had become like a tic.
As Avery approached the doorman, her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.Pretty sure there was a piece of toilet paper stuck to my shoe this whole week and I only noticed it now …
Avery’s lips played into a smile as she typed a reply.toilet paper is this season’s hottest accessory. i would know, i work for Metropolitan
Pete’s reply came soon after.Yeah, you definitely know what’s fashionable way more than I do. Some of my clothes have been around since high school. I gotta do a closet audit.
Avery laughed.“audit”? you really do work in finance, huh?
Unfortunately. It’s my biggest flaw. Unless you count my fear of air plants.
Avery laughed again. Pete was so comfortably, hilariously himself. It was inspiring.wait, what’s wrong with air plants??
They’re WEIRD, Avery. Where are their roots? How do they stay alive? They just FLOAT?! I do not get it.
hahaha wow i never thought of that but you’re so right. just give me any air plants you’re afraid of and i’ll kill them instantly. i have the worst black thumb
I’d love to be your accomplice in those murders.
“Hello?” the doorman said from behind his desk, irritated. “Hello?”
Avery jerked her head up from her phone. When she gave Pete her number, she simultaneously hoped he would never speak toher again and would also text her right away. Even just smiling at a text made Avery feel tense with vulnerability, made her worry about the ending before their relationship began. She tried not to think about it only being a matter of time before he realized she wasn’t good enough for him. He needed someone more on his level, someone as cool and confident and funny.
Avery told the doorman that Morgan was expecting her. She rode the elevator to the fourth floor and knocked on Morgan’s door, still grinning like an idiot at Pete’s texts.
“Are you smiling at a text?” Morgan asked in a singsong voice when she answered the door, nodding toward Avery’s phone. “Is thata guy?!”
Avery tossed her phone in her tote bag. “No, just a work thing.” No way could she tell Morgan about the latest development with Pete. Avery had no idea what to make of him yet, but Morgan would be so thrilled Avery had his number that she’d start making room for him as Avery’s plus-one to the wedding. And they were a long, long way from that.
Avery removed her ankle boots and dug her toes into Morgan’s off-white rug. A navy-blue couch was pushed up against the wall, which was covered in abstract art, framed photos of Morgan and Charlie, and gold antique mirrors in different shapes and sizes. On the round marble coffee table, the licking flames of a candle burned the warm, cozy scent of vanilla and cedar. Morgan had such a knack for creating a homey space. In college, she used to spruce up her and Avery’s hundred-year-old dorm room for all the holidays: pumpkin string lights above the windows for Halloween, a plastic turkey centerpiece on the table for Thanksgiving, red paper hearts taped to the front door for Valentine’s Day. Avery thought briefly about her apartment now: the bare walls crusted with spackle from the last tenant, the stiff couch covered in lint from her scarves and sweaters, the empty kitchen table with its peeling composite wood. She sighed.
Avery set her wine bottle down on the coffee table and dug into an opened box of Oreos. Next to the box, a bridal magazinewas flipped open to a page showcasing a gorgeous gown with a plunging neckline. Avery pointed at the dress.
“Morgan, you need that.”
“I know,” Morgan said longingly. “I’ve been staring at it all day. I love column silhouettes.”
Avery cocked her head. “Column?”
“It’s a type of wedding dress, yeah. A little form fitting. Follows the natural shape of your body.”
The doorbell rang. As Morgan padded to the foyer, Avery wiped the Oreo crumbs from her mouth and buried her face in a bridal magazine, preparing to hear the familiar grating Southern twang of her ex-best friend. Morgan had told Avery that Blair was going to be a bridesmaid only a few days after she told Avery about the engagement. Avery could tell Morgan had been nervous to talk about it, the way she kept tucking her hair behind her ears and talking at rapid-fire speed. But the three of them had been best friends once—Morgan and Avery had been assigned as random roommates freshman year and met Blair down the hall, and they’d been inseparable all throughout college—so the news wasn’t exactly asurprise.Still, Avery tried not to show too much of her actual reaction, which was one of dread; she just told Morgan that it was her special day and she could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t see Morgan’s continued friendship with Blair as a betrayal of some sort anyway. The friendships were kept separate and it was whatever. It was easy to do when Blair was up in Boston and Morgan and Avery were in Manhattan. The way it worked was that Morgan would never mention Blair to Avery, and if Blair visited, Avery would occupy herself for the weekend with guys from dating apps and dissociative rewatches ofBake Off.
“Aver-ay!” Blair squawked. Her drawl seemed extra obnoxious today. “How are you, girl?”
Blair hung her beige peacoat on Morgan’s coat rack, which made Avery’s leather jacket fall to the floor. Morgan hurried over to pick it up after Blair ignored it.
“I’m great!” Avery replied. She used the quintessential high-pitched, fake-nice voice every girl has down pat, the kind that could crack glass thousands of miles away. “How are you?”
“I’m great!” Blair’s voice rose even higher than Avery’s, somehow. “It’s so good to see you!”
