Page 70 of She Used to Be Nice
Morgan set down her nail polish brush dramatically. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”
Avery laughed. “I don’t either.”
“Like, you’re having a picnic. In the park. With a guy who likes you. Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?”
The picnic was on a Saturday, on a beautiful spring day in April. The sun shone bright and strong, covering Central Park in a thick blanket of warmth. Pete and Avery walked hand in hand along the pathway through the lawn that overlooked Central Park West until they found an open spot beside a tree and away from the crowds and baseball fields. Pete laid down a red-and-white gingham blanket, then from his backpack he pulled out some mild white cheddar cheese, a box of buttery crackers, a bottle of pink rosé, and a wireless boom box. Cringeworthy, cliché, and perfect.
Avery nodded toward the boom box. “I’ve been trying to find a good one of those. Where’d you get yours?”
“My ex from college actually got it for me.” Pete winced sympathetically. “Sorry, is it weird that I just told you that?”
Avery stiffened. It was only a matter of time before exes came up, and of course Pete would be so casual and unrestrained about sharing information about his. “No, it’s not weird. We’ve all got exes.”
“What was yours like?”
Avery chewed on her lip. “Let’s not go there.”
“Oh, come on. Here’s my story, although it’s kinda boring: She and I dated for a year but were just too different—we had different visions for our life and all that. It was a mutual breakup. Very cordial.”
“No drama. Must’ve been nice.”
“It was.” Pete looked curiously at Avery, as a prompt. “Okay, your turn.”
Avery swallowed a hearty sip of rosé, then tried giving Pete’s open approach a shot. “His name was Ryan. We dated for almost all of college.” She stopped abruptly, couldn’t bring herself to keep going; it was like she’d put her foot on the gas only to hit a stop sign.
“Why’d it end?”
Avery spent a few seconds picking at the yellow label on the cheese. And then, in her mind’s eye, she saw it again: the ceiling fan. She felt dizzy as she watched it go, round and round inside her head.
Whirr …
A sudden chill ran through her, goosebumps turning her skin into Braille, despite how warm it was outside. She filled her cup with more roséand swallowed a massive gulp, managing not to let the memory spiral into a full-blown panic attack.
“We just grew apart,” she said.
Pete nodded, taking it in. Avery hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions. She hated lying to him. It was hard enough lying to her friends, but lying to Pete, to this incredible man who thought so highly of her, made her feel like her most reprehensible self.
“That simple, huh?” he said.
“That simple.” Avery shrugged. “Shit happens.”
Pete considered this. “Sounds like a good topic for you to write about.”
“What is?”
“Life.” Pete smirked at her. “Shit happening.”
“Oh, yes. How riveting.” Avery held her hands out, moving them from left to right in front of her like a marquee banner. “Why Life Is Filled with Shit Happeningby Avery Russo. I can see the Pulitzer now.”
Pete laughed. “Hey, I never said I was a writer. That’s all you.” His face softened, his blue eyes glinting in the sun. “I bet your writing is incredible.”
Avery couldn’t talk about the night that led to her breakup with Ryan, but maybe she could tell Pete about her writing. Therewas more than one way to let someone in. Her process of opening up to Pete involved this constant internal bartering, figuring out which piece of personal information would be significant enough to meet the current moment with him. Her secret about Noah felt like her most expensive good. Once that was gone she’d be depleted of everything.
“Here, I’ll show you something I wrote in college.” She took out her phone and tapped open the essay about reality television that she’d written forThe Golden, then handed it over to Pete. Perhaps if she showed him her work, he’d feel satisfied enough and never ask about Ryan again.
Avery pinned Pete down with her eyes, her body tense and still as she watched him read her essay. Each time he reacted with a laugh or a nod or a “huh!” sound, Avery fought back the urge to dive headfirst into the reservoir in the middle of the park.
“This is amazing,” Pete said. “Funny, informative, and makes me feel way less guilty about how much I love reality TV.” He gave her back her phone. “You’re an amazing writer.” He cupped her chin with his hand, making her look deeply into his eyes. To really see him, for the way he was seeing her. “Don’t forget about me when you write a bestseller one day.”
