I pulled Mila’s car up to the curb in front of her house and rolled down the windows because the front seat smelled vaguely of beer and barf. Creeper Robert was long gone, and Mila sat stoically, not wanting to look at me, so I looked at the oak tree in the front yard instead. It still had the tree house her dad built tucked up in its branches. We spent hours there in elementary school, inventing secret codes and playing with our Polly Pocket dolls. By middle school, it turned into a place of refuge when her parents were fighting. It was a relief once her dad moved into his own condo across town because Mila could trade the tree house for her bedroom. She lived with her mom Monday through Friday but stayed with her dad on the weekends and certain holidays.
“Wait. Aren’t you supposed to go to your dad’s tonight?”
“I am. But I’m not. Obviously.”
Her house was dark. Not even the porch light was on. “Is your mom even home? I can take you to your sister’s.”
“No, thank you. Her loser boyfriend’s staying over and—” She shuddered. “Just no.”
“Well, won’t your dad freak out if you don’t come home?”
“Sure. If he comes home.”
“So you’re trying to piss him off? Is that what’s wrong tonight? Is it about the divorce?”
She rolled her eyes. “That would solve everything in your head, wouldn’t it? Poor Mila, all messed up because her mommy and daddy don’t love each other anymore.” Her neck lolled to the side as she focused on me. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Worry?”
She blew her bangs off her forehead. “Don’t anything right now. Please.”
“Did you really want to hang out with that Robert guy tonight?”
“So what if I did?”
“I just want to understand. Is it so important to get drunk that you’ll go off with anyone who’ll buy you beer?”
“You went too.” She looked out the window instead of at me. At a streetlight flickering on and off one house down. “You could’ve gone to Cody’s with everyone else. You could’ve left me with Robert.”
“I wouldn’t have done that. I needed to go with you.”
“Why? I didn’t exactly handcuff you and take you with me.”
This was typical Mila. The Queen of Twist.
“I wouldn’t have left you because I’m not that kind of friend. And I think you know that. It’s why you make sure I’m always there. Because you know I’ll bail you out of whatever mess you get yourself into.”
She looked at me, eyes glazed over. Hair stuck to the side of her head. Mascara streaks dripping. “Whatever.”
I pounded the steering wheel. “Not whatever. It’s a big deal. What if we hadn’t gotten away tonight? What if I’d hurt that guy and ended up in trouble? Or what if he’d hurt me? That’s not what a real friend would want for another friend. I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s why I always go with you. And now I want to help you, but I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why you want to numb yourself every weekend. You can talk to me, you know. Or I’ll go with you somewhere. To talk to someone else. Or to go to an AA meeting or something. Just say you’ll go.” She wouldn’t look at me, but she also didn’t open the car door, so I spilled all the words I’d been holding inside. “I don’t know what to do anymore. You want me to look out for you, but you don’t even want to look out for yourself.”
“Ugh. You’re so dramatic. Are you breaking up with me?” She snort-laughed.
I realized how true that was. How done I was. “Basically, yeah.”
“So let me get this straight. You’re up in my face about me being a shitty friend but you’re the one deciding not to hang out anymore.”
Queen. Of. Twist.
“Mila, at some point, I can’t do it anymore. For me. But also for you. I can’t be your safety net over and over again. If you want to talk about getting help, I’ll go. I’ll be there for that. But I can’t be there anymore for the kind of shit that happened tonight.”
“Stop. I can quit anytime. I’m just having fun. You’re making way too much out of this.” She opened her door and stumbled out onto the sidewalk. “We’re done here. But go ahead and take my car home. Because a real friend wouldn’t want you walking alone this late at night.”
She was being sarcastic, and that was the whole problem.
She’d never get it. Or take responsibility. Not until something really bad happened. And all I could do was hope it wouldn’t be too late when it did.
It wasn’t midnight by that point. But an old year was about to creep into a new one. I made the choice then. I wouldn’t spend the next year the way I’d spent the last one.
I was done with Mila.