To say the video hadn’t changed things between me and Jett would be a lie. It did. And in all the right ways.
In the weeks since, he’d attacked my “learning to drive again” with a renewed vigor, swinging by the house each day on the golf cart and waiting outside Beachin’ Books every evening when my shift ended. He became a natural part of my day—a part I look forward to from the moment my eyes snap open on my pillow each morning to the last thought in my head as I snuggle beneath the covers at night.
Now, he stares at me more too. As we head down the trail, me behind the golf cart wheel, muscles tense and eyes peeled for anything and everything in our path capable of imparting certain disaster, he’s there in the outer perimeters of my view, sitting catty-cornered in his seat with an ever-so-slight lean in my direction. He refines me with a laser-sharp gaze, like he’s mentally cutting away my ever-crumbling barriers, shining and spit-polishing the girl inside. The one he saw in that video.
I’d worried it would warp his image of me, turning me into a victim to be pitied. It didn’t. Rather, it seemed to validate what he knew all along—Cami’s alive and well. Now I need to prove to him I’m willing to do the work and meet him halfway. Live life as much as I ever could.
I turn on the lamp. A ribbon of light cuts through the darkness of my room. This has become a ritual, but tonight, something’s different. My heart doesn’t throw itself into wild palpitations. There’s no sweaty brow. Just calm.
The time is right.
I click open Drafts and pull up my email to Em, the words memorized from a million-and-a-half read-overs. I take a deep breath, in for four and out for seven, then hit Send. When the confirmation message pops up, I grab my phone and shoot off a quick text.
<Me> I sent you an email. Text me when you read it
A response registers almost immediately.
<Bestie<3Em> K
Silence. No news is good news, right? No. Not when it comes to begging your best friend for forgiveness. The phone is dead silent, so I shoot off a flurry of psycho-texts, my heart swirling into the pit of my stomach.
<Me> OMG it’s been like 20 minutes. Please respond
<Me> I know I have no right to ask but…please…
<Me> I miss my best friend
<Me> ???????????
My phone buzzes in my palm.
<Bestie<3Em> took you long enough to admit it
<Bestie<3Em> emailed you back
<Bestie<3Em> read and think about it. Text me tomorrow
<Bestie<3Em> night CJ
<Me> K night Em
This has to be bad. Very bad. Not sure exactly what I expected, but a return email isn’t it. We haven’t talked—not really—in months. I’m prepared for an I hate you and die or I love you and am calling you right now text, but whatever the response, I assumed it’d be immediate. Why would she send an email telling me to take time and think about it? Thinking about it means there’s way more to this than simple forgiveness.
Ding. I look at the screen. You have one new message.
Double click. Deep breath.
To: <CJ Ainsworth>
From: <Emmalyn Henderson>
Date: June 7
Subject: RE: Long Time, No Talk
I should be pissed at you. I should tell you to screw off. But I won’t. You’re my best friend—always have been and hopefully always will be. Even if one of us is acting like an ass. (That would be you in this scenario)
So, I forgive you. The question is, after you hear what I have to say, will you forgive me?
There’s a new guy in my life. He’s someone I’m really interested in, but I can’t be with him. At least not without causing a lot of problems. I’ve been wanting to talk to you forever about it, but, well, you weren’t talking. And that’s actually how this whole thing got started.
It’s Trent. He texted me a few months after the accident to see if you’d talked to me. I didn’t hear from him again until a few weeks before you left for Edisto. He was feeling pretty lost about what to do, how to reach out to you, and I could relate to what he was going through. I guess one thing led to another (God, I hate that cliché statement). We never meant to develop any feelings beyond friendship, but it’s happened. Is happening. We haven’t cheated. Right now, it’s a bunch of tip-toeing around the subject because we both care about you too much to hurt you. It’s hard to even write that because you’re my bestie (no matter what), and I never want to ruin that.
Trent says y’all haven’t been communicating, so I have to ask. Are y’all still together? I think he’s weirded out discussing it, so it sort of slides under the radar. But I can’t go on with this unless I know if you still have feelings for him. If you do, I’ll forget it. Everything. Right now. But if you don’t, I’d like to have your approval if and when Trent does bring up the subject.
I wrote this whole thing in like five minutes and have spent the rest of the time staring at the send button. Push it or not? Once things are said, they can’t be unsaid. And more than anything, I never want to lose our friendship—we’ve come too close before.
And there you go, texting me again. Chill, CJ. You only made me wait almost nine months to hear from you! Read this. Think it over. Text me tomorrow.
I love you. Em
I walk over to my bed and lay on top of the covers, staring at my ceiling and gnawing on a fingernail. Em and Trent? So that explains the pictures of her at the baseball field I saw online. Obviously, Trent hasn’t told Em we’ve broken up. Probably because he’s too embarrassed to admit he did it with an impersonal email. That was a total jackass move, but in all honesty, I hadn’t been so great to him myself. I won’t tell her the details of our break up, I’ll just say we’re over. What happened between me and Trent is a moot point now, anyway. And they deserve a chance without all the baggage and drama. They have a lot in common. Why didn’t I ever see that before?
My heart teeters on the edge of a happy explosion. Through it all, Em’s still my bestie, and the aching need to fill her in on my first month here is like a vicious cat clawing at my nerves.
There’ll be no waiting until tomorrow.
I dial her number. It rings twice before she answers in her melodic, soft-spoken tone.
“CJ? Is it really you?”
“It’s me, Em. We have so much to talk about.”