So it goes [Breakable Heaven #1]

4. You deserved better

I try to catch a glimpse of what's on the screen of my phone without really taking my eyes off the road, but it's an impossible task, especially since Jean hasn't stopped waving my phone in the air. At the first red light, I take the device out of her hands and finally see for myself what has gotten her so shocked.

- De nada, chica. That's what friends are for, right? -

I smile and give my phone back to Jean.

"So?" I ask, shrugging.

"So I've just read the word friend coming from the Trybrid Bitch to your cellphone. Which is already quite messed up, since that girl doesn't even know what it means to be a friend. And you smiled when you read it. You SMILED at Rory's text, Sash! I haven't seen you smile since last Easter! What the hell is going on here? Have I landed in an alternate reality, instead of Spain?"

I shrug again. "She's just being nice, that's it."
"Yeah, like that's not shocking to begin with," she replies, sarcastically. Jean definitely hasn't a high opinion of Rory, and I can't blame her, since I used to totally agree with her, up until probably a week ago. Ok, maybe like a couple of months ago. Still, I used to agree.

"I do smile," I murmur, changing the topic.

Jean rolls her eyes dramatically. "We're gonna get back on that later. Now tell me about Rory."

"We just bumped into each other at the Jardines de Chapina and we spent the day together. No biggie."

Jean doesn't reply, she just shakes her head and sighs. I don't need words to know what she's thinking: she doesn't trust Rory, she thinks that, if she's being nice to me, then she must have some sort of secret agenda. Again, I can't entirely blame her, given Rory's track record. But somehow I feel it's different this time. Somehow I'm quite inclined to trust her. It might come back to bite me in the ass, sure, but I'm not the kind of person who always sees the worst in people and keep them at arm's length not to get hurt. I believe we must live our lives to the fullest, and if we get hurt, then it's just part of the game. I won't keep myself from experiencing something potentially beautiful out of fear. I won't give up the possibility of a good friendship just because this person used to be kind of a bitch. People can change, I believe that. Maybe they can't pull a one-eighty, but I believe in little changes. Besides, while it's true that Rory used to be quite terrible to us - to me, specifically - it's also true that she didn't really know me back then, that we had never really talked before.

"I just didn't want to be alone," I add, as a further explanation. "Not on Sunday, with nothing to do."

She stays quiet again. I focus my eyes on the road, so I'm not sure what the look on her face is. Then, after a while, she sighs.

"I would have come home sooner, you know? If you'd asked me, I would have."

"I know. I didn't want you to cut your vacation short for me."

After that exchange, we don't talk anymore. When we finally get home, I start some dinner while Jean takes a shower. She isn't too tired from the flight, as she's one of those lucky people who are able to fall asleep the moment their butt touches the plane seat. I'm exactly the opposite, I wouldn't be able to sleep even if somebody repeatedly hit me in the head with a baseball bat. I've tried everything: pulling all-nighters, taking sleeping pills... nothing has ever worked.

We eat and sit down on the couch with a cool beer and a pack of cigarettes each, promising each other we won't be up too late to chat.

"You don't smile, Sash," she says after lighting a cigarette and puffs out the smoke. "Not really. When you try, it never quite reaches the eyes. Before, in the car... it wasn't exactly a real smile, but it was the best I've seen since Lilian left."
"I..." I try to reply, but I can't. She's right, I know that she is. I don't laugh, I don't smile, I don't cry. Sometimes I wonder if I've frozen inside, if all the emotions I am supposed to feel have just left my body, and all I'm left with is an empty shell.

"Sash... what happened when you went back to Los Angeles? You've never really told me in our calls and text messages."

I sigh. I don't really feel like talking about it, but I know that the sooner I inform my friends of what happened, the sooner we can stop talking about it.

"Nothing happened. Not really, I mean. I got there, she wasn't home. I waited for her, she knew I was coming, it's like she hoped I was going to leave before she got back. I didn't. I packed my stuff and waited for her. When she arrived, she could barely look at me. I asked her why she disappeared on me for three months, she said she didn't know how to tell me she didn't want to move here."
"Very mature," comments my friend, and I can't disagree with her. I have to say, I'm not as angry as I used to be. My month away has helped me process what happened. But still, what Lilian did was horrible, and no amount of time could ever change that.

"That's an understatement. She's been a real fucking coward, and I assure you that I didn't shy away from telling her so. She knew my problems with abandonment issues, and yet that's the way she decided to end our relationship. What kind of person does that? She admitted it had been awful of her, and she apologizes. But then she accused ME of abandoning her, of running away to Spain. She said people who have lived together for five years cannot keep a long-distance relationship alive, and that she was tired of it. And that when she told me she was going to move here she meant it, but then the closer we got to actually moving, the less sure she was, and coming here to visit for Easter was the proof she needed to really understand she didn't want to do it. She said I have my life here, and she wasn't part of it anymore."
"And what did you reply?"
"I didn't," I admit. "What was I supposed to say, Jean? Besides, she didn't want the confrontation. To her, this relationship had been over for months. She had actually hoped I wasn't going to come back, just ask her to ship my stuff here. And, apparently, she is already seeing - well, sleeping with someone else."

"That bitch!" Jean goes off on my ex. "Not only she basically dumped you without saying a word, but she was also hoping to avoid talking to you altogether. Like she didn't even owe you a fucking explanation! And she's sleeping with someone else!"

"She's right, though," I murmur. Lilian might have done something horrible, something I will probably never be able to forgive, but I am not completely blameless. I have to take my responsibilities for the end of my relationship. "I was the one who decided to move to the other side of the world just because I had this stupid need to somehow find myself. I was the one abandoning her in the first place, J."

"Alright, first of all, it wasn't a stupid need. You had never left California before, let alone the US; you just moved from foster home to foster home for years, never having a holiday or a trip somewhere. It's quite understandable that you wanted to travel, and used your job to do so. Second, if she didn't want you to go, she should have told you two years ago. Last but not least, no matter what you might have done, she owed you an explanation. No one deserves the treatment she gave you, especially not the person she was supposed to marry."
"We weren't..." I protest, but she interrupts me.
"Don't give me that, Sasha! Fine, you weren't officially engaged, you didn't have a ring on your finger, but she had promised you forever. You had decided to spend your lives together. And that should mean something."
"Yeah, I know," I moan, defeated. There's no point in discussing this any further. That's why I don't really want to talk about what happened to other people, because they inevitably feel the need to express their opinion, and so the conversation drags on. But there's nothing left to talk about. "But it doesn't matter anymore, does it? It's over, she's moving on, and I should do the same."

"I'm so sorry, S. You deserved better than that."

She moves closer to me and wraps me in a hug. I am so freaking glad she's back; at least now I don't have to face this alone.

"What about you, though?" I ask her then. "You told me about Virginia and your family, but what about men? Anyone interesting crossed your path this summer?"
"Oh, you know... a little bit of this, a little bit of that," she smirks. "But I've actually met someone today, on the plane."
"You have?"
"Yup. His name is Nataniel, he was my seatmate. We basically spent the entire part of the flight I didn't sleep talking. And we're going out next weekend!"

My mouth hangs open. "Whaaat? How do you do that? Take a plane and come home with a date? The only thing I get after an intercontinental flight is a bad breath and stinking looks from people because I look like shit!"

She shrugs. "What can I say, I am that good!"