I’m at Sam's home right now getting some photographs ready to be handed out tomorrow. He prefers to work at our place but given the condition of our home, I'd rather avoid the hassle of its mess. The yard was our only choice but it wasn’t ideal for either of us, so we decided to go to Sam’s place instead. Dad has been working on figuring out why the car won’t start for a month now. Since I’m not a skilled driver, I had Laurel take me here. I could have walked since it’s not far from home, but I needed to bring some things with me.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” Laurel planned to stay just a few minutes for a quick breakfast, but she’s been chatting nonstop for an hour now.
“Let me check.” He acted as if he were checking his notes, all the while mimicking the motion of flipping through a pad. “We have a shoot meeting scheduled for 8 a.m. tomorrow, followed by an errand related to a film project I’m helping a friend with, go to Cart—”
“You don’t need to share every detail with me, Sam.”
“I assumed you were interested in helping out tomorrow.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I was planning to chill out tomorrow.”
“You mean with Austin?” I was caught off guard to find out late that Laurel is seeing someone who happens to be Sam’s friend. They’ve run into each other frequently, but Austin had no idea Laurel was interested in him. They went on a date to an unusually awkward place, which surprisingly became everyone's favorite spot for making out. They're normalizing it in public and it's really off-putting. Not fond of visible public displays of kissing. Before I knew it, they were officially a couple. I have no issues with it, she mentioned it to me and I found it hard to process because their relationship is moving so quickly. I noticed him talking with Sam at work a few times and when Sam mentioned he was different, I had a strange feeling about him. Quite different from the type of guys Laurel usually dates. The ones who actually attend college, focus on specific goals, avoid wild parties, and are capable of supporting themselves. I didn't notice those qualities when I first observed him.
“I mean, sure. If you’re up to it.”
“Are you confident that one will last?” The words I intended to ask emerged immediately as I was considering them.
“What are you trying to say, Cari?” She looks confused but is wearing the smile she often uses when she's unsure. “What kind of question is that?”
“I have no idea why I even—”
“You’ve never liked any of them, Cari. I get that boys aren’t really your thing and that you might be missing out, but really?”
The pen I was holding fell from my hand as soon as Laurel’s expression shifted to one of intense hatred towards me. “You don’t actually know anything about him.”
“That’s not what I meant. I was just worried about you.”
“He’s not a problem, Cari, if that’s what you’re concerned about. He’s kind, treats me so well and is more enjoyable than any other guy I’ve dated, so yes, I’m confident about him.” I couldn’t even blink, the tension of meeting her gaze was so intense and though her eyes seemed on the brink of tears, it was obvious she was trying to hold them back. “Stop making judgments about everyone.”
“I—he’s just really different, Laurel—”
“It's too bad that I bring you up with him, not about your private matters, though. I told him that I genuinely value your effort, even if it's just a try. I tell people that even though you stay in the background, it doesn’t make you aloof. T-that’s just you.” I noticed a single tear fall from her eye, which she quickly wiped away. “And you weren't even willing to pretend to appreciate what I’m most proud of?”
“I’m proud of you, Laurel. I just—”
“What?”
“I just want you to be sure—” I paused, unsure whether I genuinely have nothing more to say or if I'm hesitant because I might hurt my best friend by expressing my thoughts about her relationship. What I truly want is for her to have the best, because she's the best. And yes, I don’t believe I should be the one to tell her, as she’ll likely stick to her own conclusions. I thought I was being a good friend. “C-can we talk outside?” I finally got up from my seat, feeling my body tremble and heat up, worried that Laurel might misunderstand the situation. I mean, she has already taken it the wrong way.
I turned my attention to Sam who's now awkwardly sitting in his chair, contemplating whether to say something or stay out of it since none of this concern him. But I also didn’t want him to witness us delve into matters that only we understand. “No. I'm leaving.” She collected her belongings including her half-eaten food and headed straight for the door without glancing back. “You didn’t even bother to pretend to be happy for me. If you were truly my friend, you wouldn’t spoil this joyful moment with the question you just asked.”
Laurel and I have known each other since childhood in this neighborhood where I still live. Our families have been close for many years, even before we were born. Laurel was the only friend I had during every stage of my childhood. During our many sleepovers at each other's homes, I remember sharing a stuffed toy with Laurel as we were about to sleep. She’d stay with me, urging me to join other kids, despite my reluctance and feeling like they thought I was strange. So I ended up spending all my time with her when I was a kid. Each time she brought her things over to our home, we would exchange toys. They were meant to move away when Laurel turned ten, but she would get so upset that she'd lock herself in her room, not wanting to leave me behind. She wanted to help me through the pain of losing a parent, but I kept withdrawing from people because the pain I felt was overwhelming. Sometimes, I feel that she understood me better than my own father. When she couldn't find a way to comfort me, she would sit quietly in the corner of my room so I wouldn’t feel so isolated.
She has always been present, even as many aspects of our lives have changed for better or worse and she remains here. What I meant to express didn’t come out as intended, and now I regret how I made her feel.
“I feel so stupid.” Because I really do. I'm not on the verge of tears but I can feel a weight in my chest from the regret I carry. Sam cautiously moved closer, giving my arms a firm squeeze before enveloping me in a hug. “Why did I even speak up? I should have just stayed quiet.”
“Hey, Laurel took it the wrong way.”
“No, I failed to be supportive.” He removed his arms from around me. “You’re there for her and she knows it. You’ll work it out with her.”
“I don’t have a clue about what to do. She doesn't wanna speak to me.”
“Cari, you may believe you don’t, but you actually do. Consider this as one of those disagreements you always resolve by the end of the day.” Regret set in almost immediately. The weight of knowing that my thoughtless question had caused pain to my best friend was a crushing blow. I found myself grappling with the gravity of the situation, questioning why I had not been more mindful of her feelings. The guilt was compounded by the fact that our friendship had always been built on a foundation of trust and support, and here I was, jeopardizing that with my own carelessness.
