Every Other Weekend(118)

Cherry glanced down at her knees, her shoulders hunching as though she was bracing herself. “Are you done?”

“No.” I tossed the flamingo down. “I’m not done. Cherry, I—I’ve been going through some stuff.” My throat closed off so my words came out choked. “I could’ve used a friend to tell me the truth when I was lying to myself.” I thought about all warning signs with Guy and how maybe if I’d told someone, they’d have helped me see him for what he was long before that final night in his apartment. “Because it turns out it’s a lot easier to point out somebody else’s mistakes than recognize your own.” My eyes were threatening to start swimming, so I bounced my gaze all over her room, her closet, her window, her dresser.

And I stopped.

Standing, I walked to the dresser and stared at the mirror hanging above it, the one that had been so crammed with photos, concert tickets, and notes she and Gabe always left for each other. I’d been in her room enough times to have them memorized, but even if I hadn’t, I’d have noticed the glaring gaps.

All the photos of Meneik were gone. Whenever they’d broken up before, she’d never get around to taking them down before they were on again.

I spun to face her and didn’t need to ask the question when the answer had been staring me in the face.

“Turns out I didn’t need you to see Meneik,” Cherry said, her voice less flat and more empty. “Do you know what he said when I showed up at his door?”

My stomach turned over.

“It was my fault for getting grounded, that if I really loved him, I’d have figured out a way to be with him sooner, even if that meant leaving my family. And I don’t know if it was all the time I’d spent away from him or thinking about the horrible things I’d said to you and everyone else—things he was yelling at me—” I heard her voice thicken. “But I finally realized that you were right, all of you.”

I pressed my lips together to steady them. “It’s over?”

She nodded. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. It was awful and heartless.” When she lifted her head, her eyes were swimming. “And it wasn’t true.”

My chest felt too tight as I stared at her. I didn’t need an apology. I’d repeated that to myself the whole way over, but I know that part of my heart would have broken if she’d let me leave without saying those words and meaning them.

“After Meneik, I told myself I waited too long, that it was too late to say sorry and—” She broke off when she saw my necklace and then her face crumbled and we were both moving toward each other, meeting in a hug that felt like we’d never gone a single day fighting.

“Never,” I told her.

“I missed you.”

“Me, too.”

“Promise you’ll always tell me when I’m messing up?”

“If you’ll tell me.”

She nodded. “But you saw through Meneik from the start. You’d have never let some guy manipulate you like I did.” She felt me stiffen and drew back. “What?” she said, taking in the way my face had gone slack.

I sucked as much air into my lungs as I could, hoping to make the next part easier. I even tried to smile but it broke before my lips could lift.



* * *



Shelly let the two officers into Dad’s apartment and, after introducing everyone, she sat next to me on the couch and didn’t move for the next two hours while they questioned me.

If I hadn’t had my hands clenched tightly in my lap, I think she’d have tried to hold one as I relived not only the last time I was in Guy’s apartment, but every interaction we’d had since the first time we met.

To her credit, Shelly never once reacted. She didn’t gasp or sigh or so much as twitch while I spoke, my voice growing softer as the unbelievable stupidity of my actions hit me all over again.

The officers were kind, too. They never acted like they thought I was lying or embellishing. They wrote down my answers, asked questions that didn’t feel nearly as invasive as I’d been expecting, and they were straightforward with me about what was going to happen when I asked.

Guy would be interviewed next, but I already knew that his version of the events was going to contradict everything I said. And it turned out Guy was very clever. All his insistence on keeping our “friendship” secret meant there were no witnesses who’d ever seen us together. There were also no phone records, no inappropriate texts or voice mails. His kissing and groping hadn’t left physical marks on me, and I’d waited weeks before reporting him. There was nothing to prove my story over his.

“Okay, so what if he denies everything?” Shelly asked, scooting forward so that she was barely sitting on the edge of the couch as her gaze darted back and forth between the two officers. “You can arrest him based on what Jolene told you, right? I mean, right?”

“Unless he admits to kissing or touching Jolene, I’m sorry, no,” said one of the officers, a young blonde woman with striking blue eyes. She turned to me. “You’re the first person to make allegations against him, so unless he says something happened or we find a witnesses or evidence—”

“It’s my word against his,” I said, feeling hollow and small.

“Jolene, I believe you’re telling the truth, and whatever else happens, there is now an official record documenting your story. That report is going to follow him for the rest of his life.”