Page 30 of I'm Not Done with You Yet

The look on her face makes my sacrifice almost worth it. It’s an expression of gratefulness, mixed with disbelief. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

I would kill for you, Thalia. I shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I like Ani.” Oh, how the world laughs at this obvious lie.

But Thalia is without guile. She nods slowly. “I guess that could work. But Jane, I feel so shitty about doing this. I don’t know—”

“You have to. For your mom.” Fuck her mom.For my sake, Thalia. Do it for us.

Her furrowed brow clears and she closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, her face turns, becomes determined. “You’re right. I have to do it. It means nothing to them, right?”

“Yeah. It’s the equivalent of a day’s shopping spree to them.”

She nods. “Okay. God, I can’t believe I—we’re doing this. Thank you.” She grasps my hands, her eyes shining with tears, and I swear I’ve just died. “You’re the only real friend I have, Jane.”

15

Nine Years Ago

Oxford, England

The problem with trying to give Thalia and Ivan some privacy is—well, there’s more than one problem. There’s Ani, first and foremost. She’s always been snarky, but now that Ivan’s around, she becomes so abrasive that a few times I imagine shoving her off a tall building, or stabbing her with my fork, or some other thing that would shut her up. So I might be a bit grumpy. Just a tad. I think that’s understandable, given I’m basically pimping away the girl I am obsessed with.It’s so that I won’t lose her,I remind myself. But knowing something in theory doesn’t really make that thing any easier to swallow.

We start the weekend off with a centuries-old Oxford tradition—punting. Punting consists of hiring a tiny boat and using a long stick to push your way down the River Thames. It sounds a lot more romantic than what it actually is, which is a pain in the ass. And arms. And legs. Because using a heavywooden stick to shove your boat downstream is really freaking tiring.

Thalia has prepared a picnic basket, complete with finger sandwiches and warm bagels and champagne, but I don’t get to enjoy it because I insist on doing the punting so that Thalia and Ivan can have some privacy to chat with each other while Ani guzzles the champagne and kills whatever romantic buzz there is between Thalia and Ivan. I don’t know what circle of hell I’m in to have to watch Thalia turn on her charms for Ivan while I grasp this heavy stick and resist bringing it down on both Ani’s and Ivan’s heads.

“Ani doesn’t like to talk about Jakarta,” Thalia says. “Tell me more about the place.”

Smart. Ani’s always dismissing Jakarta—come to think of it, she’s always dismissing every place; no city is big enough or fancy enough for her. Urging Ivan to talk about Jakarta is a surefire way of getting Ani to switch off. Sure enough, I spot Ani’s eyes rolling behind her huge sunglasses before she turns away to watch the scenery as we float downriver.

“It’s great, actually,” Ivan says. “It’s a huge metropolis with, like, over twenty million people.”

“Wow, big city.” Just like her big, big eyes. In the early Oxford morning light, they turn from brown to gold, and if I were Ivan I would propose to her right now. “The biggest city I’ve been to was LA.”

Ivan laughs. “LA doesn’t feel much like a city; it’s too spread out. I love LA though; it has its own charms. Is that where you’re from?”

“No, I’m from Nevada. Just outside of Vegas.”

“I hate Vegas. What a fuck you to mother nature,” Ani saysbetween gulps of champagne. “Nobody should be living in the desert.”

Ivan and Thalia glance at her. Thalia gives an uneasy smile. “Yeah, I guess. The Strip’s kind of a weird place if you live there. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve actually been to the Strip.”

“I can see that. It’s like how my friends in the Bay Area never ever go to Fisherman’s Wharf,” Ivan says, and just like that, Ani’s caustic remark is left behind, a little verbal roadkill that they can pave over and ignore. “Anyway, I spend a lot of my time traveling. Maybe about half of my year is spent outside of Indonesia, and I swear every time I come back to Jakarta, there’s a new skyscraper being built.”

“Wow, sounds amazing.”

Sounds like a nightmare to me, the landscape changing faster than I can adapt. Just like what’s going on now. Part of me is still dazed, still wondering how the hell I ended up here, pushing this boat along. I’m tired, my shoulders ache, my belly is filled with bitterness, and I’ve just about had enough of everyone. I wonder if I can tip the boat over and send us all plunging into the Thames, just end it all already.

“Where do you usually travel to?” Thalia says, and I hate this. I hate her and I hate him and I hate Ani and I hate Oxford for bringing me and Thalia together and the world for keeping us apart.

“We do a lot of business with Japanese corporations, so I travel to Tokyo quite a lot, and we also have clients in Hong Kong, Singapore, Dubai, London, New York... all the big cities.”

You know what really sucks about Ivan? It’s the fact that even though he’s clearly bragging, it doesn’t come off as bragging. He’s so used to this lifestyle that it’s become natural to talkabout it like it’s no big deal. He lists off countries I would never be able to afford to visit like they all belong to him, like the world is truly an oyster that he holds in his manicured hand. I can’t help but snort out loud at this. They all glance up at me, and my heart stops beating.

“Sorry,” I stammer. “I think I’m getting tired pushing the boat.”

Ivan straightens up. “I’ll have a go.”

“Hah!” Ani snorts, jumping up. We all cry out as the boat sways dangerously.

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