The Writing Retreat(19)

Not only was Wren still coming… we were going to be roomies.

Suddenly the room felt stuffy and stifling. My breath lodged in my throat and I forced myself to inhale.

“This is odd.” Taylor picked up the wrapped present on the left desk. “This is for Alex.”

Poppy was already holding the other. “This one says… ‘Wren’?”

Keira remained at the doorway, watching me as if suddenly suspicious. I wanted to run, I wanted to race down the stairs and burst outside and plunge my burning face into a snowbank.

Roomies. Beads of sweat ran down my back. My chest tightened and black spots danced at the edges of my vision.

“Hey, you okay?” Taylor asked.

“I’m fine, I just feel a little dizzy.” I tried to laugh but the spots became blotches, growing from my periphery and covering up my vision. I was going to pass out. Clutching at my chest, I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Let’s sit her down.” Taylor’s voice sounded far away. Gentle hands took my arms and walked me to a chair.

“Put your head between your legs. Just take a few breaths. It’s okay.” Keira’s voice was soothing, and I did as told. There were low murmurs, and then someone lifted my hair and pressed a damp washcloth to the back of my neck. Slowly I came back to my body, realizing that I was squeezing someone’s hand. I sat up. Keira kneeled beside me, her hand in mine.

Taylor was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of me. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know what that was.” I tried to laugh but it came out shaky. “That’s never happened to me before. I just got really light-headed.”

Liar. It had happened on the subway a few times, especially in the months after the incident with Wren. Keira and Taylor exchanged glances.

“Panic attack,” I said with resignation.

Poppy came out of the bathroom, where she’d re-wetted the washcloth. Their solemn faces sparked a sharp anger at myself. I’d just met these people, and already I was showing myself to be the unstable one. The words spewed out, powered by a hopeless fury. “So I should probably just tell you guys. I wasn’t one of the original people who was picked for this. Someone dropped out, so my friend whose agent knows Roza’s agent sent some of my stories. They accepted me but they also accepted Wren. She and I used to be close. Well, best friends. We had a huge falling-out a year ago.” I motioned to the beds. “And now apparently we’re going to be staying in the same room together.”

“Damn,” Taylor muttered.

“What happened?” Poppy kneeled next to Taylor. “With the falling-out?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? The answer lived in different layers, like a pyramid with deep hidden chambers. I decided to start with the easiest story. “Well, we were best friends for a long time. Eight years. And then she just kind of dumped me.” That was true, at least. “I didn’t take it very well, to say the least.”

“That sucks,” Taylor proclaimed. “I hate when shit like that happens.”

“Yeah. She moved out suddenly, and then we had a confrontation at a bar…” I crossed my arms. “It was bad.”

The arc of black blood gleaming in the fairy lights.

They watched me, waiting. I might as well tell them this part; Wren probably would anyway. “I tried to talk to her on the back patio and she ended up falling backwards off a step, onto concrete. She fell on her wineglass. There was blood everywhere. Someone called an ambulance and they took her to a hospital. It turned out she’d cut a tendon in her hand and needed all this surgery.”

“That’s awful.” Keira bit her lip. “But it sounds like an accident. Did she blame you for it?”

A flash of Wren’s face, her lips twisted in disgust. Don’t touch me.

Which had only made me angrier.

“I don’t know.” I pushed the dark thoughts away. “But she—and all our friends, actually—stopped talking to me after that.”

“I’m sorry, girl.” Poppy scooted forward and patted my knee.

“That shit is worse than a breakup,” Taylor declared.

“Friend breakups are way worse,” Poppy agreed. “I went through something like that in college.”

“People change, and not always for the better.” Taylor gazed up at me. “Was there a guy involved?”

“Kind of,” I said, relieved that Taylor was building the story, however inaccurate. Because there had been a guy, a few months later. I’d watched the relationship quickly progress on social media. Even taking pictures with a guy was unusual for Wren, but this dude was photogenic: tall, blond, partial to slim suits. I told myself it was just good for her brand, expecting the relationship to implode, as they all did. But a year later they were still together.

“I knew it.” Taylor gave a definitive nod. “Some women are so competitive. She probably thought you were going to try to steal him or something.”

“Yeah.” I felt guilty letting this narrative take hold, but it seemed too complicated to correct her. “You know what? I hate talking about this. I don’t want to turn anyone against her or anything. But I wanted to be honest.”

“Hey.” Poppy clasped her hands. “I just had the best idea. Why don’t you take my room? I’ll stay in here with… what’s her name?”