she and i got a little drunk and shittalked, mostly about you and how badly you hurt me. at one point she forced a mock-sober face and pointed to me. "okay. would you ever take 'em back though?"
the look on my face was probably closer to a pigsnout, because she burst out laughing. between chuckles she said, "i've literally never seen a human face make a question mark before, damn."
i held up my hands in surrender. "don't you dare manifest anything like that for me." i didn't know the answer and i didn't want to think about it. some days i hope i never see you again. some days i craft long, terrible speeches; trying to figure out what i could say to make you understand. sometimes i think hell no and sometimes - well if you got therapy and -
i picked a bug off my thigh. sometimes i picture dying like a fruitfly, great-gatsby-style in a giant pool of apple cider vinegar (with, of course, a coulee of dish soap). just to be so tiny, and dying surrounded by having. "i kind of think fruitflies are like tantalus," i said aloud. i poured myself another glass of the boxed white.
"you ever just give up on fishing a bug out of your drink and decide - fuck it, let's just eat the fly?" she held up her hand and i shoved the box clumsily over.
at once, we both said, "that counts as free protein."
we were splayed on the floor, akimbo around her coffee table. i pushed over onto my stomach, kicking my legs like a kid. "once i googled it and did you know bugs have fiber in them? bugs."
"okay, but." she took a little sip. her finger went back up into the air. "would you rather - feel the breakup slowly; even slower than like we have to feel things... like, maybe we could get it down to, what, 5 minutes a day. but then you don't feel anything the rest of the day. but! you have those 5 minutes for a long time."
"oh no. not the emotional klarna lay away payment style."
"i'm still paying off my chipotle," she said, grinning, "but no hang on - or! would you rather..."
she squinted a little then, considering. "would you rather feel all of it, all at once, for like, 3 straight days. or however long it takes." she tapped her lip. "see, when i started this, i first thought i'd do that one, but i can just time things right to be really drunk any time i have those 5 emotionally-charged minutes. plus then i can just move along with my day."
i feel you all the time. your absence so strange and vital. it is so random, is the thing - i'll be fine one moment; and the next i feel as if i got punched. "well, how bad are the 3 bad days?"
she raised her eyebrows. "so bad, dude. i'm talking panic attack, sobbing, oscar performance. like you can't eat or sleep or breathe."
i gave a little sad laugh. "i kind of already did that, and i'm still..." i didn't like how i made the room feel so i tried to re-navigate. "but if it's worse than that? like it's all of it? i don't know, i could survive it, probably. i'd just need to take a long weekend off work."
"if you survive it," she said. "which like. my last breakup - yeah, i don't know. i would have loved to save time by getting over him immediately, because you know i was still -"
"don't talk to me about connor i will get angry. because why was he breadcrumbing you during his own wedding." too late, i was already mad about that again. "and no offense, girl, but you know the part that really fucking gets me about all of that emotional-fucking-manipulation is -"
at once, we both said the end of my sentence: "- he wasn't even good at it." both of us tipped our heads back and laughed in the same way, and then laughed again just because of how it had occurred, pawing sort of drunkenly at each other's hands for a formal handshake.
i sat back. a fruitfly landed on the edge of my glass. i watched her little body tremble. "i don't know," i said honestly. i felt a little bit like crying, or maybe it was a hiccup. i gestured at my body. "i worry i'll never really be over it. how do i even calculate the size of grief." i took a breath. "i worry that there's so much. what if i'm - like in the real world, even - what if i'm 'paying it off' forever?"
she looked up at me, and for a moment i felt the weight and love of our entire friendship - years and years of this massive thing we built together. it was like the walls had turned to foxfur. she held her hand out again, and i took it. she was so warm and beautiful, like stained glass.
"i have good credit," she said, "and when you finally run out of savings, my love? i'll put my card down instead."
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