Reclaiming the Sand(29)

But I’d never tell her that. “I can help you look for a place if you want,” I suggested less than eagerly, closing the register and switching on the security monitor.

“Or…” Dania began, giving me a look I knew all too well.

It was a look that meant only trouble.

For me.

“Or what?” I prompted.

“We could look for a place together. It would be like old times, Ells! Come on!” Dania urged, her face lighting up.

I suppressed the urge to groan. The last thing I wanted was to share a space with my best friend. Aside from her inability to pay her bills, her penchant for bringing home random men and excessive amounts of recreational drug and alcohol use didn’t make her an ideal roommate.

Even though she had been the only person to help me out after I had come out of juvie, it wasn’t a time in my life I cared to repeat. I had hated living with her. Aside from the reasons already mentioned, she was also a bitch to deal with on a regular basis. I could handle her dramatics and mood swings when I had my own space to disappear to at the end of the day. Being around her 24/7 could very well push me over the edge.

When I didn’t answer with equal enthusiasm, Dania’s face clouded darkly. “I get it. I help you out when you need it but I shouldn’t expect it in return. That’s fine. At least I know where our friendship stands.”

She was angry. And angry Dania was an irrational and scary Dania.

“Don’t be like that. I’ve just worked really hard to get my own place. You know that. I don’t do well living with other people. Having to share a room for my entire life makes me possessive of my own space,” I tried to reason. But Dania wasn’t listening.

She hopped off the counter. “I’m in a f*cking bind here, Ellie. You think I want to have to grovel at your feet for help? But I have nowhere to f*cking go! I’m almost five months pregnant!” She poked her belly hard. “What the hell am I supposed to do if my own best friend won’t help me out?” Her voice had become shrill and borderline hysterical.

“Of course I’ll help you, Dania. Don’t be stupid,” I said, feeling the familiar exhaustion of having to deal with her temper tantrums setting in.

“Don’t make me your charity case, Ellie!” she spat, knocking a canister of gum off the counter, sending it crashing to the floor.

“I’m just the knocked up idiot! The view must be great on that pedestal your fat ass is sitting on,” she sneered. “It must feel good to be able to look down your perfect little nose at the rest of us. Did you forget that I know you? I know all of your ugly secrets? I was there when you sucked off half the football team for a line of coke!” I grimaced. Nothing like having your worst mistakes flung in your face by the person who was supposed to be your best friend.

She was going in for the kill. And when Dania was pissed, she was cruel. She didn’t care about the consequences or effects of her words.

“Or in your efforts to be better than the rest of us did you forget about slashing the gym teachers tires after you told him you loved him and he turned you down?” God, did she have to bring that up?

It hadn’t been my finest hour. But I had been young and desperate for attention. And the hot, young gym teacher had been sweet and attentive. He had been nice about it when I declared that I was in love with him and that he should leave his wife for me. But I had been devastated. I was only fourteen for crying out loud.

And it had been Dania who suggested that we trash his car. She stood there while I took a switchblade to the walls of his brand new tires. She handed me her house key so I could scrape it down the pretty red paint job. But she took off when the principal came out into the parking lot. And I was the one left to take the fall.

Dania’s memory was selective at best. She remembered things in a way to make it easier for her.

But she didn’t mess around. She was digging her claws into every single wound and ripping them open.

“Or how about that f*cking freak you used to hang out with? Did you conveniently forget what you did to him?” she shrieked. I needed to calm her down. Of course she chose to lose it when there were actual customers in the store.

A little, white haired lady was glaring at a seething and venting Dania.

“Dania, stop it!” I hissed, coming out from behind the counter. She slapped my face when I tried to get close to her.

“I hate you, Ellie McCallum! You’re the worst friend ever! How could you turn your back on me when I’m like this?” she screamed, beating her fists on her stomach. She was unraveling quickly.

I grabbed her by the upper arms and gave her a firm shake. “Calm the f*ck down, Dania! Right. Now!” I demanded. She shook her head, her dark hair flying. And then like a switch had been flipped, she wasn’t raging anymore. She crumpled into a heap on the floor and started sobbing.

The white haired lady gave my friend a look of disgust and quickly left the store. I hurried to the door and flipped the closed sign.

I returned to Dania who hadn’t moved from the ball she had curled in. I was unfortunately too used to her meltdowns. They had been occurring with more and more frequency since she had gotten pregnant. Dania was volatile on a good day. Pump her full of hormones and you had a level ten detonation.

I realized as I helped her to her feet that at some point in the past year I had grown increasingly tired of Dania’s dramatics. Of her selfish and narcissistic behavior. It was easy to excuse when we were young and stupid. But now that were staring adulthood and all the responsibilities that entailed in the face, I was less willing to excuse her craziness.