Page 81 of Only If You're Lucky
I opened my mouth and started to take a step forward—but then I stopped myself, remembering the night of the break-in. The way I could smell Levi in her bedroom, the scent of him stained deep in her sheets.
Realizing, with a jolt, that what I was watching wasn’t the first time.
I still don’t know which part was worse: seeing Eliza like that, the way she kept lowering her standards for him, digging herself deeper into this hole I somehow knew would trap her forever, or finally understanding the magnitude of their relationship and what it entailed. The reality of just how far apart we had drifted: all the things she had kept from me, all the things she felt she couldn’t say. I remember watching with pure detachment as they finished, unable to look away. Levi rolling off with a grunt before standing up, pulling on his shorts. Eliza self-consciously gripping her chest while she looked around for her sundress, fingers skimming the floor.
“I’ll be back,” he had said, not bothering to help her up beforeheading to the stairs and walking down. “Gonna grab another beer.”
It was pure reflex that finally pulled me out of the shadows, my body stepping forward as Eliza got dressed. She was standing a little too close to the edge, swaying gently as she pulled on her clothes. Her body eclipsed by the glow of the moon. I remember feeling such sadness then, watching as she tried to pull herself together: brushing her fingers through tangled hair, cupping a hand to her mouth as a hiccup escaped. Thinking that the person I was looking at then wasn’t the Eliza everyone envied. That it wasn’t the Eliza I looked up to, the one I spent my entire life wanting to be.
The person in front of me was someone else entirely.
It took her a few seconds to realize I was there, but then she turned around, somehow feeling the presence of another body behind her, and I registered the shock in her expression, the unmistakable shame.
“Margot,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to make sure you were okay.”
She was quiet, a subtle wetness in her eyes, and for a single, stupid second, I actually thought she might run over and hug me.
“You don’t have to protect me,” she said instead, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “I told you that.”
“Obviously I do,” I said, gesturing to the corner where she had just been. Dipping my voice an octave lower, trying to hide the judgment that was so clearly there. “Eliza, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“Yeah, well, neither do I.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, taken aback.
She just scoffed, shook her head, and I took a few steps forward, the two of us suddenly close enough to touch. I could feel the windwhipping off the water in the distance, a welcome relief from the hot summer air, and I could tell she wanted to say something then. I could feel some big explanation for the way she’d been acting so close to barreling right out and I wanted to hug her, to slap her. To tell her I hated her and tell her I loved her—but at the same time, the wall we had built between us was too tall at that point. The stones too solid to tear back down.
I was exhausted, just so exhausted. I no longer felt that there was a point.
“Let’s go home,” I said at last. “You need to go home.”
“I’m staying,” she said, swaying some more.
“It’s late, you’re drunk. You need to go to bed.”
“No,” she said, her voice quivering a little. “I mean I’mstaying.”
I looked at her, still not understanding until I felt a stab of something sharp in my chest: rejection, pain, a terrible comprehension settling over me as I stared at her in the dark.
“What?” I asked, taking a step closer. “What do you mean you’restaying?”
“I’m not going to Rutledge,” she said. “I’m staying here with Levi. He’ll graduate in a year and then maybe we’ll go together. His dad was a Kappa Nu there—”
“Eliza, this is crazy,” I interrupted. “You’re being crazy. Whathappenedto you?”
I felt the claw of tears then, their sharp nails scraping their way up my throat. I tried to swallow them down, push them away, but they sprang to the surface faster than I could contain them, gliding their way down my cheeks.
“We were supposed to go together,” I said, my voice fragile and wet. “You can’t just leave me—”
“I love him,” she said with a finality that cut deeper than anylethal weapon, any sharpened blade. I could practically feel myself bleeding out then, the life leaking from my body as she watched it pool.
“I’m your best friend,” I said at last, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re supposed to love me, too.”
I noticed a little tremble in her lip, maybe a flash of regret like that day in my room, but before she could say anything, before she could respond, I spun around fast, ready to walk away and leave her there. So tired of caring about her more than she cared about me.
“Margot, wait—” she started, reaching out to grab my arm. I remember feeling the clasp of her fingers, her touch sending a surge of rage through my chest. In that single second, our entire life flipped through my mind like a movie as I thought about everything she had done to me, everything she had said. Every time she had left me, abandoned me, made me feel like I wasn’t her equal, and before I could think twice, before I could relax, I whipped my arm away—violent, hard, way too fast—knocking her back with too much force.“Margot!”
