The Diary of Rebecca Elizabeth London (on hold)

14

March 18

"Are we going to visit your friend today?" James asked me first thing in the morning.

"Am I allowed to have breakfast first?" I asked innocently.

"Rebecca," he said, knowing that I was avoiding the subject. "I think you should go see her." I didn't say anything. "How far is her house?"

"How am I to know if she still lives there, even?"

"It's the place to start. If she lives elsewhere, we'll get to that problem when we get to it."

"Okay," I said, placing my trust in him. After our morning routine, including a delicious breakfast at one of my old favourite cafes, we set off for Freya's house. At least, I hoped she still lived there, and that she could somehow forgive me for abandoning her like I did.

I hesitated before knocking. "You can do it," James told me quietly.

I nodded and took a deep breath. "I can't do it." I turned to walk away. He caught my arm and quickly, almost impulsively, knocked on the door. "James!"

"Coming!" came the voice from inside. The door opened, and there stood a young woman who seemed very different from the one I knew from years ago. "May I help you?" she asked. She was a little distracted and I wondered why.

I said nothing. James, letting me handle this on my own, while still being there for support, stepped back. The woman finally looked at me with a sliver of recognition. "Rebecca? No, it can't be."

"Surprise?" I said. I didn't know what else to say. Freya had been my best friend before I had to leave. I realised with sorrow that that had probably changed.

She hugged me suddenly, and so I hugged her too. "I haven't seen you in years!"

"We had to leave," I said rather awkwardly.

"I know."

"It was at the worst possible moment too. I left you when you needed me. Oh, Freya, I'm so sorry!"

"Rebecca London apologising for something? That's new."

James started snickering from beside me. "Oh, shut up," I told him, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.

Not one to be easily deterred, he took a step forward again and took my hand, intertwining his fingers in mine. As much as I wanted to pretend I was mad at him, he had forced a smile out of me. I looked between the two of them. No one said anything, but Freya gave me one of the looks she used to give me that said to me, "Explanation please?"

"Oh! Freya, this is my husband, James," I said, making sure that 'husband' was emphasised. "And James, this is Freya, my best friend, or we used to be anyway. I don't know what we are anymore."

"Rebecca." She tsked me, then said, "If you're still worried about leaving me in my darkest hour, forget about it. I was okay. Sure, it would have been nice to drown my feelings in ice cream with my best friend, but I was okay. That was so long ago." She stopped, and said, "You know what, why don't you come inside? It's still rather chilly this time of year."

Thank you," James said, as we followed her inside.

Freya gave him a strange look, then asked of him, "You're not from around here, are you?"

He laughed and said no. She asked where he came from, to which he replied, "The lovely city of Florence, Alabama."

"You're American?" she asked.

"Yes. Why does that surprise you?"

She laughed a little, and said, "Well, it's just that the last time I spoke to Rebecca, she loathed Americans."