Page 34 of The Slug Crystal
I blink. Of all the possible lines, that one was not even in the script.
He laughs again, sharper this time. “Not that you have to do anything about it. I just— I needed to say it once, in case I end up dead or worse. Like, in jail because Ben drives us off a bridge.”
I sit there and try to process. “Since when?”
He stares at the wall, voice soft. “Probably since sophomore year. Maybe since forever.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” I say.
Jake shakes his head. “No, you’re not.”
I am. But I’m also not. Both can be true.
Jake sighs, but there’s relief in it, like he’s been holding his breath for a year.
I want to say something, to make it better, but the truth is, I don’t know how. Jake’s my anchor. But somewhere in this mess, Ben has become another essential part of the metaphorical ship. Maybe the slightly malfunctioning sail, I’m not sure. I don’t have the emotional capacity to choose, even if I wanted to.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you,” I say, words coming fast now, tumbling over each other. “I just—I felt so alone last night. I felt like I was falling apart, like if I didn’t do something, anything, I was going to disappear. And Ben was there. And he made it easy.”
Jake laughs, a bitter, hollow sound. “Sounds just like Ben.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, uselessly.
Jake stands, paces to the window, then back. He runs his hands through his hair in a restless fidget. “I never thought you’d pick him over me.”
The words hit me like a bag of bricks. “I didn’t,” I say, desperate. “I never—Jake, you’re my best friend. I didn’t know there was any kind of choice that I needed to make.”
He turns, eyes blazing. “That’s the problem, Emma. I don’t want to be your best friend. I want to be your everything.”
I blink, stunned. I’m shaking now, my hands in my lap, fingers knotted so tight they’re white. “I thought—” I start, but the words won’t come.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move.
Jake smiles, sad and certain. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I just needed to say it.”
He stands, walks to the door, and pauses. “We’ll get Alex fixed. Then you never have to see either of us again, if you don’t want to.”
The second the door closes, I start to cry, silent and ugly.
Jake leaves, and for the first time all morning, I wish I was a snail.
The door opens again, and I glance up, thinking Jake changed his mind and returned. But it’s Ben standing in the doorway, staring down at me with an unreadable expression.
“I think I fucked up,” I say.
He shakes his head, then comes to the bed, perching beside me and pulling me against his chest. “You didn’t. But also, please don’t turn either of us into a snail. We can fix this as humans, I think.”
I laugh and sob against his chest.
Tuesday, 9:47AM. Our exit from the motel is quiet and stunted. No one speaks until we pull up to Dottie’s. This time we are just here for coffee and to plan our next move. The sign outside has changed: Croissant & Medium Coffee: $3.50 TODAY ONLY. The ‘O’ in coffee has been filled in with black marker so it looks like a donut. I appreciate the effort.
Inside, the shop is quieter than yesterday. Dottie herself is behind the counter, hair wrapped up like a cinnamon bun, eyes squinting as she works a crossword.
I order three coffees and a Berry Danish, then grab a table in the corner with a good line of sight to the register, needing to know when my order is ready. I set the terrarium on the table, and for a while, the three of us just stare at it in silence. The snail is slowly eating his way through the lettuce, utterly unaware of the hurricane of feelings surrounding him.
Ben pulls out his phone and starts typing. He doesn’t look at me, but I can feel the energy rolling off him. He’s always restless, seeking action or the next story, even moving in his sleep. Jake turns away from us, giving me a view of his back, as he watches the street, which is even more deserted than yesterday.
The silence is thick.
