Page 66 of Heart Check
Marissa’s glasses are fogging up, and I realize she’s crying when she removes them to clean the lenses against her T-shirt. She’s not even wearing any color today. Just jeans and a white tee, the sure sign she’s not feeling like herself.
The whole image hits me with a pang of tenderness, and I root in my bag for tissues.
I press one into her hand. “Don’t cry, okay?”
Sniffling, she says, “Let me make it up to you. You’re right, I messed up, keeping this all a secret. I don’t even blame you for not telling me about Dawson. Why would you, when I made it so clear how much I hated him? But it still sucks that I’m the last one to find out. I’ve missed so much. I missyou.” She leans forward, eyes intent. “What can I do to make things right?”
I bite my lip. I wasn’t lying about how she’d have to earn some trust back. But she’s been my best friend for years, and she’s been a damn good one. We’ve been eating lunch together under that tree every day of high school. Meeting in the principal’s office to file petitions every week. Texting our stupidest, snarkiest jokes back and forth at dumb hours. We’ve been outcasts together, and I can only imagine how my sudden disappearance made her feel. I’d be clinging to the past too, if I were her.
She saved me from my loneliness three years ago, and I can’t forget that. I want things to be good between us again. No—I want things to be even better than they were. Built on something more substantial than disliking the same people.
I don’t know that we can fix everything today, but we can start.
“You know Sabrina from the spirit committee?” I ask.
Marissa nods forcefully. Neither of us mentions the not-so-nice things Marissa’s said about Sabrina in the past for being a jock groupie.
“Well, she got them to put in a big order of bracelets for the game on Friday. School colors, you know?”
“Oh, fuck. Why didn’t we think of that?”
I throw up my hands in dismay. “I know, right?”
We burst into laughter so loud that several neighboring tables turn their heads to look, the old patterns of our friendship taking over. Both of us momentarily forgetting the ways we’ve hurt each other and all the repair still to be done. For a minute, it feels like everything might be okay again.
“I’m going to need help to get it all done in time. Even if I take off work, it’s going to be really tight, especially with finals coming up—”
“I’m in,” Marissa says before I can even finish asking. “We can take turns reading from the textbook, too. To multitask.”
The fiendish light in her eyes reminds me of many an all-nighter. I grin. “I’m not so sure how that’ll go, but it’s a nice idea. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me.” Marissa’s already pulling up her calendar app to schedule this plan. “You need something to lock in that grant, right? And I haven’t done the best job being a present friend this year. This is the least I can do.”
We drink our coffee in silence for a minute while mapping out the next week on our shared Google Calendar, color-coding study sessions and jewelry making and class and diner shifts to get covered. Our truest love language, and the first step toward patching things up between us.
While I’m making a note about Monday’s diner shift, Marissa’s eyes drift back up to meet mine. “So… Dawson?” I can tell she’s trying to replace her natural expression of disgust with curiosity, and I appreciate the effort, but I can’t help groaning at his name. Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. That bad?”
“I mean,no.” I blush, thinking about just hownot badhanging out with Dawson was. “God, it was so good.”
She leans forward, a million unspoken questions on her face. I bite my lip. Isn’t it enough to start fixing things with my best friend and my business? Do I really have to unpack the heartbreak of Luke Dawson today, too?
But Marissa’s eyes are big and open, locked on me in the way that always makes her interview subjects spill their deepest secrets. Even after all these years, I’m not immune.
I fill her in on everything. Getting trapped in the freezer during that cursed Black Friday shift. Driving with him though the dark streets of town. Talking until I fell asleep on his chest. The hot chocolate at the small business fair. Kissing him in the diner. Kissing him in the car…
“But I don’t know anymore,” I finish. “I thought he was a nice guy. Sweet. But if he really thinks he’s better than me?” I shake my head. “Nah. I don’t want to date someone like that.”
Marissa purses her lips and tilts her head. It’s her tracking-down-a-story face, when she’s trying to make the pieces add up and find her narrative thread. “Okay, you know I’m not predisposed to be Team Hockey Jock. But let’s look at the facts, okay?” She grabs her ever-present reporter’s notebook from her bag.
“As if I could stop you.” I have to force the words out past a lump in my throat. It’s not until this moment that I realize how much I’ve missed our old friendship.
“Okay.” Marissa flips to a blank page. “Dawson invited you to Ryan’s hockey party… just because he wanted you there?”
I nod. “I mean, that’s what he said—”
“Noted.” She scribbles something down. “And heintroduced you to people? And checked on you all night? And wouldn’t let you drive home?”
I nod again, that lump getting even bigger as I remember how taken care of I’d felt.
