Beautiful Things Never Last (28 page)

             
“Please, I can’t do
this right now. Please just go,
”
I say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

             
I slide down the length of the fridge and
crumple
onto
the
checkered linoleum
floor
that I hate so much
. I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face in them, not caring that my hair is plastering itself to
the sides of my face with tears
.
What happened along the way that made Ben stop caring about me? What did I do? What would drive him to pay for a plane ticket that he can barely afford
,
to go
and
see a girl he shouldn’t be seeing?

             
Part of me aches to know every detail of what happened between them. Did they kiss? Did they do more? 

             
The image of them kissing isn’t nearly as bad as the thought of Ben, in that moment before you kiss someone. How you have to connect with someone in order to get there. Is that what he was doing with Caroline? How many moments like that did they share? How many times did he pull her into his arms—the arms that are meant to hold
me
?

             
The doorknob turns, and even though I
just asked him to leave again
, my first reaction is to hope that it’s Ben. But it’s not, it’s Shayna.

             
“Hey, Carter said you were home,” she says. She crosses the room and sits next to me with her legs crossed. “I missed you!” She wraps her arm around me and pulls me in.

             
“Are you going to pretend like you don’t know what’s going on?” I ask.

             
“Of course not, are you crazy?”

             
“Good. Did he stay at your place last night?”
             
Shayna shakes her head.
“But Carter saw him on the way out, or, to be clear, Carter saw him punch his car in the parking lot and went to intervene. It’s a nice car, you know?”

             
“Right,” I say.

             
“I think he was going to stay up at work or something.
But doesn’t it make you feel a teensy-bit better to know that he isn’t as perfect as you always gave him credit for? That he’s way more human than any of us thought? I t
ell you one thing, I’m relieved.
I know you must be, too.
”

             
I never thought about it like that, but it doesn’t make me feel any better now that she’s pointed it out.
Ben was my solid. The one that I didn’t have to doubt, or wonder if he was on the verge of screwing up.

             
We sit in silence for a few minutes.
I should ask her how her Christmas was
, w
hat kind of loot she got from her folks, but I don’t care about any of that, and I can’t even fake it right now.

             
“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Shayna asks.

             
“Excuse me?”
             
“It’s New
Year’s
Eve? What are we doing? Carter and I can come over and watch movies, or something. We won’t even expect
you to cook. W
e’ll spring for the take-out!”

             
I bury my face again and start to sob. I can’t help it. Ben and I were supposed to be spending New
Year’s
Eve together. Why are we having
to spend
another holiday apart?

             
“My parents got me a shit-ton of gift cards to restaurants in the area, so you can pick. They had it in their heads that since I don’t have a job, I’m not eating well. Clearly they didn’t realize what a culinary force you are—” Shayna finally takes a breath when she realizes that I’m shaking. “Wait, are you crying? I thought you were laughing, Quinn. Shit, did I make you cry?”

             
“I’m not laughing,” I say. I look up at her,
my
face stained with tears and makeup and pain. “And I don’t want to do anything tonight. Just leave me alone, please.”

             
“No.”

             
“Huh?”

             
“No. How long is this whole Kurt Cobain-flannel wearing-I wish it were the nineties-thing going to last? Because it’s ridiculous, and
so
not you, Quinn.”

             
I look down at my flannel shirt. I love this shirt. And I sort of hate Shayna right now.

             
“Shayna, just go away. You and Carter go and do something fun, I’m great here.” The shirt stays, Shayna goes.

             
“Quinn,
I’m not leaving you here alone, in this pitiful pool of tears,” Shayna says.

             
Oh, for the love of Christ, why do I call this person my friend?

             
“Please. I just want to be alone right now.”

             
“No.” Shayna shakes her head at me. “We talked about this at school, how when you’re hurting and you push the people away that are trying to help you, you are only dragging your pain out.
Get dressed. Put on some make-up.
It’s the whole fake-it-till-you-make-it thing.
Embrace it.
”

             
“I can’t,” I say, pathetically.
“Not this time. I don’
t know how to be okay right now.
I just want everyone to go away.”

             
Shayna hoists herself off of the laminate floor, grips my shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. “You can do this, Quinn. You can do this
without
falling apart. He fucked up, and you’re entitled to feel hurt and anger and like complete and total shit. But don’t let yourself become a victim of your victimhood. Don’t let this destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for. You are not that same girl from high school. I know it. And you know it, too. Now, buck up. And put your party dress on.”
 

Eighteen

QUINN

I don’t put on a dress, but Shayna and I do compromise
.
I
tak
e
a shower
at least
,
and put
on fresh clothes
so that we can drive to pick up Chinese.
It’s not much, but I’ll give Shayna a little credit, it does feel good to be out of the apartment where Ben’s stuff is everywhere.

             
“
Carter called while I was inside picking up the food,” Shayna says
, arranging herself in the passenger seat and piling the bags of takeout between us
. I pull a wonton out of the bag and pop it into my mouth, even though it’s really too hot to be eaten yet. It’s one of my bad habits
—
never waiting for food to cool before I eat it. Ben is always mocking me for it— how I claim to love food so much, but I don’t even wait for it to cool off so that I can actually enjoy it, rather than dancing around the kitchen, fanning my mouth and complaining about how hot it is.

             
“And, do we need to stop somewhere else on the way back?”

             
“No. Don’t get pissed—”

             
“
Too late.
” I interrupt. With that kind of warning, on today of all days, it’s a sure bet.

             
“So, I guess Ben showed up at your apartment while we were out. And Carter told him he could stay with us until you guys figure stuff out.”
             

             
“Traitor.” And he calls himself my brother.

             
“Quinn, come on. Where else is he going to go?”

             
“You’re right, it’s fine. It’s completely fine.”

             
“So, he can come hang out with us for dinner and stuff, right?”

             
“Pushing it, Shayna.”

             
“Think about it, at least. Do you really want him sitting in our apartment, alone, while we’re all ringing in the
New Year
three doors away at your place?”

             
I reach down and turn the heat up,
since
it’s actually pretty chilly in So Cal this week,
and it
almost feels like a proper winter.
“We should have gone to Claim Jumper and got some chicken noodle soup,” I say.

             
“We got wonton soup,” Shayna says.

             
“Yeah, but I love that soup on cold nights. Oh well, I guess I can make some tomorrow.”

             
“Sure thing. I love how you’re pretending that soup is on the forefront of your mind. Not that, I don’t know, you kicked your boyfriend out.”

             
“I had to,” I say, warming my hands in front of the vent until the traffic light turns green and it’s my turn to go.

             
“No, no you didn’t. Listen, I know he screwed up. I totally think it’s insane that he flew all the way out there to help some broad out. And I especially think it’s crazy that he didn’t even bother to tell you. But boys do ridiculous, insane things all the time. He’s really good to you otherwise, Quinn. And you know this.”
             
“I don’t wa
nt to talk about it right now. I’m doing what I think is best, I’m sorry if it doesn’t live up to your expectations.”