Page 6 of Friendshipped
I make eye contact with Trevor. “I’m going to drive Jayme to get her stuff.”
I don’t exactly know what to do or say to help Jayme. But, from the looks Trevor sends me, I know he’s one hundred percent on board with a solid payback plan to Shane for breaking Jayme’s heart.
“I can’t believe Shane,” Jayme says between outbursts of tears. “I feel like someone punched me in the gut.”
“He’s a fool,” Trevor says, meeting her eyes.
I hope hearing it from a guy helps her believe it.
I put my arms around Jayme’s shoulders and lead her to her car. She reluctantly hands over the keys and then sits in the passenger seat sobbing and sniffling into tan takeout napkins with sketches of Daisy the Dairyland cow on them the whole way to her apartment. Daisy’s seen better days.
“You’ll get through this,” I assure Jayme. “And then, when the time’s right, you’re going to meet a man like one of the heroes in your stories and he’s going to love you for the amazing woman you are.”
When I say this, Jayme sniffles more and then blows her nose in that Guinness Book of World Records way I never knew she was capable of before today.
Always learning something new about old friends.
Jayme packs up whatever she needs for two days at my home, and we drive the five minutes from her apartment to our place.
Yes. Our place. Trevor’s and mine.
Did I mention Trevor’s family owns my duplex? When Trevor moved back from college, Mister MacIntyre made him a deal. Trevor pays rent and does upkeep on the property, and over time Trevor will own this house outright. Obviously without me.
It’s a sweet deal since they don’t charge me much rent. I’m able to be close to Mom and Dad and my memaw. Plus, Trevor is right here whenever I need him—at least for now.
3
Trevor
Ihear Jayme and Lexi walk into her side of the house right after I walk into mine. Nights like this feel more lonely than usual. I want to make an excuse to go hang out with the women next door, but I assume Jayme needs time alone with her girlfriends after going through the nightmare of finding out her boyfriend was cheating on her.
I throw my keys in the bowl by the front door, kick off my shoes, and walk into the kitchen untucking my dress shirt as I go.
Lexi’s response to Jayme’s heartache stirred my thoughts and feelings about her and brought everything right to the surface. I picture the way Lexi’s big brown eyes filled with concern while Jayme wept. Lexi’s got a heart the size of the OSU stadium.
I open my fridge and hunt for something to eat. A package of salad mix, a half-gallon of milk and some iced tea sit on the top shelf. The side of one middle glass shelf holds a half-full carton of eggs and a loaf of bread with maybe four slices left.
I’m lame.
This, people, is a bachelor refrigerator if you ever saw one. And it’s doubly pathetic considering my penchant for all things food related. My fridge at least usually holds a variety of leftovers, but I’ve eaten through my recent stash of to-go containers over the course of this past week.
I’ve been in a drought. Lately, I only cook when Lexi and I prepare a meal together. Food used to be my passion. At some point in the past few months it’s morphed into the way I pay the bills and keep myself nourished.
I debate calling my closest guy friend, Rob, to see if he wants to grab a burger downtown when my text notification pings. I pick my phone up off the counter. Then I hear music coming through the wall from Lexi’s side of the house.
My face breaks into a smile. That woman.
Whenever she’s depressed or upset, she pumps up the volume and cranks out the old school hip-hop and pop tunes. The bass thumps through my walls and I picture her trying to cheer Jayme up with a healthy dose of Justin Bieber.
I turn back to my phone.
Lexi: Wanna come eat pizza and watch movies with the girls and me?
Trevor: Are you sure Jayme’s up for it? She might want a man-free zone.
Lexi: She’s fine if you come over. Besides, I think you might only have breakfast food left in your fridge.
The fact that Lexi knows the contents of my refrigerator might seem odd, but she’s here so often, she knows more about my life than I do sometimes.
