Always Never Yours(56)
They shuffle off the stage while I walk forward to collect the few props we’re working with. I reach down to pick up a briefcase Tyler’s knocked over, and out of the corner of my eye I notice Madeleine hovering by the door. I figure she’s waiting for Tyler, and I take an extra-long time returning to my seat and packing my bag, busying myself in the hope she’ll leave before I have to pass her. I know Madeleine feels horrible, and I don’t enjoy that she’s suffering, but I’m not ready to face her. I can’t help the hurt I feel whenever I think of what she confessed to me.
“Megan?” I hear her voice right behind me, and I fumble the pen I was stuffing into my bag.
I straighten up, glancing around the room to find everyone else gone except Owen. He’s standing near the back door, watching me warily. I silently plead with him not to leave me here to deal with this conversation on my own. Not answering Madeleine, I brush past her and head for the door.
She’s undeterred. “Can we talk?” she says to my back.
“I’m busy right now,” I get out. I hear her footsteps trailing after mine, and I realize if I go to my car right now, she’ll just follow me. Madeleine is nothing if not persistent. Time to take action.
Instead of going to the door, I course-correct toward the stage. “Owen,” I say urgently, coming up with a bullshit theatrical criticism on the spot. “We need to—rethink Biff’s emotional progression in the end of the scene.”
Owen, whom I internally thank for waiting by the door this whole time, hesitates uncertainly. I give him a pointed look and glance at Madeleine. His face softens as he understands. “Yeah, do you want me to run the lines, and you can tell me where it goes wrong?” he asks, dropping his bag and walking to the stage.
“That’d be great,” I practically sigh in relief.
Madeleine rolls her eyes, understanding what’s going on here. I should’ve known I’m not a good enough actress to sell this excuse. “Please? It’ll only take a second,” she begs while Owen climbs onto the stage, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.
I ignore her. “Whenever you’re ready, Owen.”
“He did like me. Always liked—” he begins before Madeleine cuts him off.
“Enough, Megan.” She walks up to the stage. “This is so typically you. Something goes wrong, and you’re ready to move on like our friendship was never important to you.” The sudden fire in her voice stops me. It’s not something I hear often from poised, polished Madeleine. Not something anyone hears often. “I’m your best friend,” she continues, “and I made a mistake.”
“Forgetting to return a library book is a mistake,” I scoff. “And yeah, you were my best friend, but—Owen, where do you think you’re going?” He’s inching toward the side door, trying to escape. He turns back, his expression pained.
“I’m still your best friend,” Madeleine returns. “I’m still the girl who was there for you when your stepmom moved in, who pulled all-nighters blocking scenes with you in your room, who picked you up from a hundred rehearsals when you didn’t have a car. You remember when you asked me if being perfect was exhausting?” She pauses, but she doesn’t sound like she’s waiting for an answer. Her anger has faded, and her eyes fill with tears. “Well, now you know I’m not. What’s exhausting is having to look like I am, having to live up to everyone’s expectations. Sometimes I feel like if even one person figures out the truth, I’ll—disappear. I know lying to you was worse than kissing Tyler, but I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t watch the person who means the most to me realize I’m not who she thought I was.”
I say nothing, weighing her words. I want to forgive her because it’s obvious how terrible she feels, and I’m no stranger to forgiving people who’ve hurt me. I really liked Anthony, but I forgave him for dating me when he knew he had a thing for guys. He wasn’t out and wanted to keep up appearances, and I sympathized with his situation. I even forgave Tyler for dumping me for my best friend, and I guess I’ve already forgiven him again for cheating on me.
But Madeleine hurt me worse than any boyfriend, because almost every boyfriend isn’t supposed to be forever. Madeleine and I were.
She wipes her eyes, her 4.0-GPA, after-school-volunteer composure returning. “That’s what I wanted to say. If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry and I miss you.”
With that, she walks toward the door.
Owen shifts uncomfortably on his feet. I watch his eyes flit from me to her and back.
I don’t want to give up on Madeleine. I don’t know if she’s made this right or not—I don’t know if she could ever make this right—but sometimes not giving up on somebody means forgiving them even when it feels like the hardest thing in the world. If I want Madeleine and me to be forever, I can’t let her leave feeling like her apology was worth nothing.
“Wait,” I call after her.
She stops just short of the door. Slowly she turns, her eyes expectant but guarded, like she’s not daring to hope. I walk off the stage to where she’s standing, and despite how she’s crossed her arms, I step forward and wrap her in a hug. She stiffens, startled for a second, before wriggling her arms free and hugging me back.
“I get it,” I say over her shoulder. “You could never disappear.” She hugs me tighter, and I hear her sniffle. I hold her for a minute longer until her breathing comes more evenly. “You even had the perfect apology, stupid,” I add with a chuckle.