Make believe

Chapter 18

"Laraine!" Aubree practically screamed on the other end of the line, making me cringe. Despite the loudness...and harshness in my best friend's voice, it was still familiar and strangely comforting. The elevator doors opened revealing an empty room. I was relived for not having to come up with senseless small talk with smiley strangers.

"Aubree." I answered sarcastically in response to her unexplained excitement...or was it anger? I wasn't able to read her tone in the one word she had said.

"Laraine!" She repeated and I rolled my eyes, confused as I stepped into the box of a room and the doors came to a close behind me.

"Aubree." I responded flatly. What was all this about? Before I had anymore time to wonder, her voice, sharp and quick, filled the speaker of my phone.

"So I went by your house this morning," I could literally here her pacing by her window, probably pausing now and then to dramatically place her hand on her hip. "You weren't there."

I raised an eyebrow though she couldn't see, and shook my head, puzzled.

"Okay?"

"OKAY? Laraine, I turn on the news this morning and I find out that the movie theatre you were at last night got shot up by some lunatic with a gun! And I received NO calls, NO text messages, NOTHING AT ALL from my best friend, at least letting me know she's alright. Letting me know she's okay." I cringed at her words hitting me like a bombshell. Worry and annoyance rattled through her voice and I was at a loss for words.

How could I not have thought to call her? Why wasn't she one of the first things that went through my mind after my near-death experience. Near-death experience? Could I even call it that? I had gotten out of that dark, crowded theatre without so much as a scratch on my skin, though the mental toll was great.

I took a deep breath before answering. I supposed if I were in her situation, I would be equally frustrated, and yet, I still found no words that I thought would ease her anger.

"I-I'm...so, so sorry-"

"Yeah?" She answered quick. I winced at her sarcasm. "You're sorry? Oh, I'm SORRY to hear that! Ya know, immediately after seeing that broadcast, I borrowed my dads car without asking and raced to your house. I got a speeding ticket, Laraine! My dads going to kill me! But I thought, ya know, it wouldn't matter. It'd be worth it, making sure you were okay. I worried so much when you didn't answer your phone.." Her voice softened towards the end of her rant and I found my eyes moist with unfallen tears.

"And then I got to your house...and you weren't there." Aubree's voice was now calm and tight, her choosing her words carefully. I began to speak, then was immediately cut off.

"I thought, 'she's fine, she's fine,' I knew you had to be fine, I mean, your name wasn't in the broadcast or anything, but I was so angry-"

"Aubree," I interrupted as the doors opened and I began walking through the polished lobby and out the door. I gripped the phone tightly in my hand as I walked out on to the street.

"Just...just meet me at my house, okay? Okay. I-I need to see you. We need to talk." I had no idea what I was going to say, but obviously I needed to say something. I felt like a terrible friend; a terrible person.

My nerves grew as she seized to answer. As I walked down the street, I could hear her breathing on the other end, probably contemplating on whether to take me up on my offer, or to continue to yell at me. Honestly, I wouldn't have blamed her if she chose the second.

"Alright." She muttered. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding in.

"Alright." She repeated. "I'll be there in ten." I nodded to myself and bid her goodbye, earning her silence in response. Sighing, I ended the call and continued down the street. It was a relatively short walk from Luke's apartment to my house. Well, to go anywhere was a short walk, considering how small that town really was.

Minutes later, I came to my familiar street and continued walking down the road. When my house finally came in to view, the first thing I noticed was the teenage girl, whose arms were crossed, leaning against the paint-chipped column of my front porch. Aubree's vibrant clothing and light, sun-colored hair stood out against the drab, boringly painted wood of my house. Her stance was ridged and sharp, but immediately softened when she saw me near.

I readied myself for the yelling to come; but none came. Instead, she hurried down the creaky steps and I found myself being wrapped in her comforting arms. Her loose, pink flannel shirt grazed my neck as her arms tightened, her muttering a string of profanities to herself, and I couldn't help but smile slightly. All this yelling and coldness wasn't like Aubree, but the language was.

I suddenly felt extremely guilty, and even angry at myself for not calling her. I really was the worst best-friend ever.

When she finally pulled away, she stood in front of me, glaring. Grey eyes narrowed, lips a straight line, absolutely no color in her cheeks.

"Look, Aubree...I-"

"Save it." she snapped. After a few moments, slowly, her features loosened and then suddenly, the anger was gone, now replaced with relief. I began to say something, and she put her hand in the air, shushing.

"I thought about it...and I don't want to fight. We-we don't even have to talk about it. Not if you don't want to. I realized how insensitive I was being, I mean, I know I was angry, with good reason." She reminded me. "But I was completely unaware about how you felt. How you were taking it. I mean...Laraine, how are you?"

I was stunned at her change in composure; she was being the complete opposite as she had been just minutes before, on the phone.

"I-I'm good. I'm fine. Just...tired." She nodded understandingly. "Again, I am so sorry. I don't know wh-"

"Hey. I said save it. No 'sorrys', it's all good." Guilt riddled my conscience, but I decided to let it go. We ventured inside, and not a sound interrupted the silence that overtook my quiet, empty house as we walked upstairs. Now in the safety of my comforting room, she asked a question.

"Where were you, anyway?"

I hesitated. Then told her everything. After I admitted to being at Luke's apartment with the boys, and her comment about how I had been spending an awful lot of time with them, I broke and a single tear cascaded down my cheek. I told her about standing on the balcony with Luke. About how we had almost kissed; we had been so close, his body heat had felt like heaven against the cold morning air. My voice cracked as I stressed the beauty of his eyes up close and the soft curve of his light pink lips. I told of the flutter in my stomach and the shiver down my back as his lips neared; I minced no words, left out no details.

I relished in the fact that my voice wavered considerably as I explained what it felt like to be left on that balcony alone, after moments before, feeling incredible. Cared for. Loved, even.

I replayed Luke's words to Aubree, about how the idea of my being in pain actually hurt him. Despite the roll of tears dripping down my face, I smiled at the memory and the way his words made me feel.

How could something so short-lived mean so much?

How could it hurt so much?