I’m unwinding from my second full Cliff-free day of work by not quite enjoying a burned package of instant popcorn while checking Reddit to figure out who is the asshole, when there’s a knock at my door. I run to open it in case it’s my mom ready to make another scene, but Miley’s eager face is waiting on the other side.
Her gaze weaves past me, jumping from the cluttered coffee table to the erratic shoe party below it. “So, this is your place. I’ve never seen past your shoe rack every time I try and peep.”
My hand braces to slam the door—a purely robotic instinct—but I instead give her a deadpan stare. “What can I help you with?”
Her lips curl upward at the opening. “Glad you asked. I’ve always thought of you as someone who could think objectively about unjust rules and would fight for those harmed by them if you could.”
I let out a hefty sigh. “Miley, please just tell me what I can do for you. I’ve had a rough week . . .”
She rocks on her toes, her hands clasped behind her back. “You know what’s the perfect cure for rough weeks? Taking your favorite neighbor to the movies.” She splays out her hands.
I back a step away from the threshold. “There’s no way.”
Miley shakes her head. “Please—I’m begging you. I need to see this movie. I’m the only one in my whole school who hasn’t seen it! It’s at seven o’clock, so you’ll be home at a normal hour, I promise!”
I grab for my wallet, splayed on the shoe rack where I dropped it when I got home. “How much? I can loan you the money.”
Miley stiffens, her wide puppy eyes turning to maximum strength. “No, it’s not that. I have the money. But it’s rated R, so I need someone old to escort me in.”
I scoff. “So you basically need me to take a minor into a movie illegally?”
She throws her head back. “It’s a stupid law. You know I’ve seen worse around here than anything they could put in some slasher film.”
She’s got a point. Just behind her, there’s a punch hole in the drywall. Both Miley and I were there when the guy down the hall got pissed because his Wi-Fi broke and he yelled at everyone in the world before taking it out on the communal wall. Its twin hole is in the lobby, from when the couple upstairs broke up, and we all had to hear about the deficiencies of their sex life while personal items were thrown down the stairwell.
Miley presses her hands against the archway to prevent me from closing the door. “Pleaaaase? My mom would do it if she wasn’t too busy to take me.”
I turn my head and look back at my drab apartment. My blinds aren’t up to the job of hiding the sun that’s creeping through. And maybe I could use the company. Things feel so empty since returning to my life before Cliff.
I sigh, and it’s like my resolve crumbles in front of her eyes. “Fine.”
“Yay! I knew you’d do the right thing.” She grabs my arms, but I keep them planted in my hoodie pocket.
“Meet me out front in ten minutes,” I huff.
I throw on a dressier hoodie and jeans for the occasion. Miley’s hopping from foot to foot out front while she waits.
We walk to the theater together. Outside the front entrance, two middle-aged men are smoking and muttering to each other. They stop mid-conversation as Miley and I walk by. I clench my fists, just waiting for them to make some creepy comment. The potential for random shit like this is what’s wrong with the world.
We pass without incident, and inside security isn’t exactly airport standard; they don’t even look at us. Once we’re seated in creaky felt chairs with vintage farts stored in their cushions, the smell of butter drizzle becoming part of us, I say, “Can I sneak out now that the mission is accomplished?”
Miley, who’s busy taking a selfie of herself at the theater, tilts her phone down. “No way. You can’t leave me alone with a bunch of adults.” She leans closer and whispers, “What if a child predator comes?” Then she silently points at what I’m sure is probably a very nice man with a silky scarf sitting in front of us.
“Fine, but I don’t like horror movies.”
The whites of her eyes widen and glint in the overhead lighting. “Yeah, I don’t like them either.”
“Why the hell do we have to see it then? This was meant as a whole thing to let you actually have some joy.”
“It is bringing me joy. I need to see this movie. My two almost friends, Sandra and Sarah, who are coming for a slumber party, have started leaving me out for not seeing it. And why? Because Sandra’s creepy brother took them.”
Miley squeezes her hands together on her lap. So much of the girl I once was bounces in her seat.
I lean in, voice softer. “Miley, I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be your age—how hard it is.”
She shrugs. “Good, then you understand why.”
“Yeah, but . . . a real friend wouldn’t care about the movies you’ve seen. They’d include you anyway.”
She rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Hallmark Channel.”
“I’m serious. Just this week I was, um . . . admiring the zebra you made me.” I flash back to poor Mr. Barcode being handled by Larry, to Cliff saving him, to our kiss. How could things have gone so bad since then? I push that thought loop down—my angst down—for the hundredth time today and continue. “That was so thoughtful of you to make that. You’re a good friend.”
“My crochet sucks, Jolene. Everyone knows that. No matter how many YouTube tutorials I watch.”
There’s a hint of hardness in her eyes. There’s no way to stop the world from getting to her. “Well, to me your crochet is charming, and my actual point is that anyone would be lucky to have a thoughtful friend like you. Take it from me; it’s better to be a little picky and hold out for real friends, ’cause the fake friends can crush you.”
“But who wants to be that picky?” She leans in conspiringly, the tang of soda on her breath, in the orange on her lips. “Now that you’re old, aren’t you, like, allowed to do whatever you want without asking? But you never do. It’s like you’ve grounded yourself.”
I stiffen.
She keeps going. “You don’t even drive with that friend from your work anymore. Picky again?”
I fully turn to stone.
Unacceptable behavior. And as I’m about to defend myself from her vicious attack, my heart stops in its tracks.
Because somehow, some way, Cliff has stepped into the theater. Cliff the actual person. Not an illusion. Not a wish. The HR guy. He’s sporting a fitted hoodie and crisp baseball cap.
But my blood pauses in my arteries. Because there’s a very attractive young brunette walking next to him who is definitely not his sister.
“Oh my god.” I stiffen and crouch in my seat. This isn’t a dream. It’s a nightmare.
Miley looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you—”
I squeeze Miley’s shoulder and pull her down with me. “Shh!”
She follows my gaze and practically screams. “We were just talking about him! Is he your boyfriend?”
“No!” I almost yell. I squeeze her arm a little too hard. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want him to see me.”
Our gazes turn back to Cliff, who has taken a seat a few rows ahead. He’s chatting easily, picking pieces of popcorn from the bag sitting in the woman’s lap. He’s so casual and happy looking.
The attractive brunette leans close and whispers in his ear. I crouch farther.
I want to disappear into my bones. Instead, I have to sit here, watching Cliff on a date. Oh god, am I going to have to watch him kiss her?
While the trailers start, Miley whispers, “If he’s two-timing you, he’s a piece of shit.”
I shake my head, even as my stomach curdles. “No, he isn’t. We’re just friends.” But I know that’s a lie. I stopped us being friends. And now it’s official. He’s moving on. And that’s okay.
Miley gives me a lingering look that is way too knowing. “Sure, Jolene.”
I wake from the nightmare as the lights finally come on and the theater begins to empty. I have no idea what we just saw. I spent the entire time watching the dark outline of Cliff’s head, analyzing every inch of space between him and that woman.
They start to stand up, and so does Miley, but I pull her back down. “Let’s give them a buffer.”
She nods, and we let them pass. We wait a full five minutes before she finally tugs on my sleeve and says, “Come on, let’s go! I have to pee!”
I’m waiting outside the bathroom door for her when the men’s room door opens and, for fuck’s sake, it’s Cliff who comes out. He glances up and physically stops in his tracks, his jaw dropping. He looks as horrified to see me here as I am to see him.
“Jolene!” There’s a hesitation to the way he says my name, like he can’t quite believe this is happening.
I take a step backward without meaning to.
Then that brunette appears and sidles next to him, all cozy, and smiles at me.
Cliff’s whole demeanor remains tense. He won’t look at me directly.
“This is Silvia,” Cliff says, gesturing at her awkwardly. “We play Warhammer together. Silvia, this is my colleague Jolene.”
Silvia’s kind smile makes me want to crush into myself. She’s pretty, really pretty, with the kind of gentle curls that look effortless but probably took her three hours to perfect. And she likes Warhammer.
Miley pops out of the bathroom, and her eyes instantly go wide as she takes in the drama. She runs up to me and grabs my arm.
“This is Miley,” I say, looking anywhere but Cliff.
Silvia’s grin turns even warmer. “We were just about to get some food. Would you and your young friend like to grab a ton of tacos from next door with us?”
Cliff’s head starts to shake, but it’s Miley who pipes in. “You mean me and Jolene? We’re not really friends. She just snuck me into an R-rated movie. I’m only twelve.”
“Oh?” Silvia’s smile falters.
My insides turn to stone, yet Miley doesn’t stop. “But we can’t go for food with you. My mom doesn’t even know I’m out, so I should get home.”
“Miley,” I whisper, “could you kindly shut up?”
I smile through my teeth. And why doesn’t this theater have any fainting chairs? My eyes dart to the exit as I back away, legs as heavy as bags of sand. “I’m sorry, but Miley’s right. We’ve got to head back.”
Cliff doesn’t say anything, just looks at the carpet. I wave and pull Miley along.
I’m walking really fast, and her breath hitches as she keeps pace. Once we’re clear of the theater, Miley finally yells, “Jolene, what the hell?”
“I never should have brought you here. Why did you say that?” I spit my words out. “I’m so embarrassed. Look at me, just hanging out with you while he’s on a date.”
Her face crumbles. Shit.
“No, Miley. What I mean is—”
Miley takes a step backward. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry I said we weren’t friends. I just figured that’s what you’d want.”
The look in her eyes, the slouch in her shoulders. I recognize this girl.
“It’s just . . . Miley, we shouldn’t hang out like that anymore. One day you’ll understand.”
She shakes her head, the crush in her gaze still there.
The world seems so simple for some people.
We walk the rest of the way back in silence. I leave the building door propped open but don’t wait for her as I walk in.