Page 17 of Love Rewritten

“You’re still writing.”

Little does she know that I stopped for almost three weeks. Not that I wanted to, but I couldn’t focus. Every time I tried starting again, I would zone out and have to pull myself back to reality by finding something else to do to keep me from going back to …thatplace.

I nod again, watching her intently. She scans the papers a moment longer before finally making eye contact with me. Her smile fades to a slight frown. The air between us is heavy, thick with the unspoken words both of us surely want to say. But how do we say them? And do we evenwantto say them? I do. At least I think I do. But I don’t know how to begin.

Meredith starts before me. “I’m sorry,” she says. And I know she means it.

“Me, too,” I say quickly, voice almost cracking. A second later we’re both standing and hugging in the middle of the library. I fight back the tears enough to only let one escape, but Meredith has caved to her emotions, her tears falling quickly. She stays quiet, but I can feel them coating the top of my shoulder.

She starts to giggle, pulling away and wiping tears from her cheeks. She wipes at my damp shoulder. “Sorry,” she says with another giggle.

“It’s okay.” We sit back down, both of us now presenting faint smiles. “I’ve missed you,” I say. It’s the truth. I’ve missed having a best friend.Mybest friend. I didn’t know just how much until a minute ago. So much so that I can look past the whole reason I cut her off in the first place. And now, I’m not so sure I’m mad about it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she says again.

“It’s okay, really.”

“No. I need to say this. I need to get this off my chest. And then you can decide.”

I nod, settling into my seat.

“I’m sorry for the way things ended. I’m sorry for going about that in the way I did. I will say I’m not sorry forwhatI did. Just the way I went about it.” She pauses, likely to assess my reaction to that admission. When I don’t say anything, she continues. “I care about you, Abby. So much it hurts, because you can’t, or maybe you don’t want to see how amazing you are. I won't hesitate to call the cops again if something else happens, but I promise, I will let you know first, so you can at least prepare for it next time. You can be mad at me all you want every time, but I love you too much to see you hurt.”

I smile, taking in all that she said. I don’t hate her. I could never hate her. Friends fight. And I know she’s being honest. I know she cares about me. I know she loves me. Her previous actions prove that. “You won't have to do that anymore. At least I hope not.”

She looks confused, brows drawn tightly together. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m pressing charges, Mer.” She starts smiling, but I continue before she says anything. “I signed a protective order. He can’t come near me anymore.”

A tear escapes her again. She wipes it away quickly before standing and pulling me into another hug.

Rather than spending the day writing, Meredith and I sit in the library like we always used to, and catch each other up on everything. She tells me about getting accepted into the masters program here at Oxly to get her Masters of Arts in Arts Administration to which I had no idea she'd even applied last semester. She said she didn't say anything in case she didn't get in.

When we finally stop our giddy excitement about her news, I start on the recent events of my life. Every little detail since that day at the baseball field. She listens intently, asking questions as needed, and making fitting comments throughout the conversation. It’s this that I needed, that I didn’t realize would help me feel so much better about my decisions. I needed my best friend to help me through this. To bounce ideas off of. To get another outside perspective. I’m so in the middle of everything, as is Dallas in a lot of ways, that sometimes it feels like I’m not going to get genuine feedback on everything I’m dealing with. Meredith has always been the one to play devil's advocate when needed, even if I don’t want it. She’s always had my back.

When I finish updating her on the hospital stay and the start of court, she hugs me again. I don’t think she’d ever let go of me if I didn’t tell her I had to go. The boys' game would likely be over soon, and I have to meet them at the field. Meredith insists on walking with me, saying she needs to make up for lost time. I agree. It’s been far too long.

“So," she starts, poking my arm. "Things have been going well with you two?” Her steps are bouncy as she walks next to me through campus.

I can’t help the cheesy smile that breaks out on my face. “Yeah, I would say so.”

“Good. You deserve to be happy.”

“I’m trying.” I poke her back. “What about you? Any special ladies caught your eye yet?”

She shakes her head. “None worth mentioning. I’ve had a few one-night stands, but that’s as exciting as it’s gotten.”

“You’ll find someone.” As we walk, the sound of the baseball announcer echoes in the distance. The game is almost done. The speakers relay that it's the last inning but I don't catch the score. “Oh! Guess what!” I can’t believe I forgot to tell her about the crazy writing progress.

“You won a million dollars,” she jokes.

“God, I wish. But no. I got into the LAO.”

Meredith stops mid-step, mouth hanging open. “What?” she yells. “When? How? What?” she yells again.

I laugh, head falling back. “I just found out yesterday. I’ve been furiously writing to finish my short story. Dr. Kraus submitted it to the LAO a few weeks back, and I was nominated for an award and got accepted into the program. It’s like a dream come true.” Meredith has listened to me talk about this program since we met and has encouraged me more than once to apply.

“No kidding. Oh my God, Abby. I’m so excited for you.” She finally starts walking again. She grabs my hand, walking close next to me, swinging our arms in succession with our steps.

---