On the drive to school today I passed three fishermen walking next to 89 through the scrub in their Carhartt overalls, carrying their red bait coolers, waders slung over their shoulders. They were on their way to the Connecticut, probably, and when I crossed over the bridge outside of Hanover, I had an urge to pull over and take off my shoes. I didn’t, because I had to finish some calc, but I realized I hadn’t waded in the creek by our house since the summer when I was eight or nine.
Anyway, I was sort of floaty through the halls at school, wondering about life and Stuart and how fishing actually works when I noticed Maddie sitting on the floor next to her locker with a few people and the same sort of easy feeling came over me, so I walked up to her and said hello, as if I had done it every day, or as if we hadn’t fought the last time we saw each other.
They were in the middle of laughing, and Maddie nodded, smiling.
“Hey,” she said back, friendly enough.
Super casual. Re-l-a-a-a-x.
“Guess wha-a-a-at?” I said, holding my hands out.
“What?” she asked, glancing at the people around her.
“Stuart and I are going on a date!”
“Cool,” she said in a monotone, and smiled with her lips closed.
I don’t know what I expected, I guess some form of recognition, maybe something that sounded like it included an exclamation mark, considering she was there and mostly responsible for the first time Stuart and I actually spoke.
“Yeah…” I said. “It is!”
Maddie pulled out her phone, which, as we know, means this conversation is over. But I wasn’t ready for it to be over. Things were finally looking up for me. I wanted her to be there to see that. I wanted to share it with her.
I bent nearer. “So, like, can we talk?”
Maddie was still scrolling through pictures.
“I feel like your mom was right,” I started. My mouth was feeling Zavesca dry. “That we needed some space, and I just wanted to apologize.”
No response. Her thumb moved faster. Maybe I wasn’t getting my point across.
“I’m trying to say I’m sorry for not telling you about…” I looked at her friends, who were also scrolling. “You know.”
“Damn, girl,” Maddie said suddenly, putting her arms to her knees. “Can you not read social cues?”
I stood straight. I remember making a noise that I hated, like a child who is told they can’t have dessert. “I can…” I started, then stopped, and kind of just stood there, staring.
Maddie stood and pulled me aside a few feet away. I could tell that she was still mad at me, but it was just a relief she was even responding.
“I’ll say it for you directly into your face. You hurt me by not telling me.”
I tried on a smile. “And I’m sorry! We’re on the same page! That’s what I’m trying to say!”
“Sammie, I’m not done.”
“Okay,” I said. She could keep going forever, as long as we were friends again. I breathed a sigh of relief (prematurely, as it turned out).
“I don’t know how to handle you being sick.”
I sucked the air back in, letting it sink through me with her words. But they didn’t land anywhere that made sense. “What do you mean?”
Maddie put her hands into a prayer position. Her nails were painted deep purple. “Suddenly we’re friends, right when you get sick? You never wanted to hang out with me before, outside of debate. But now it’s like, you need someone to bring all your woes and sadness and realizations about life to, and I’m the most convenient instafriend.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m just saying… I made a huge effort to be real friends, and you can’t even tell me the truth of what’s going on in your life? No, you’re too obsessed with your own stuff, too busy with the Sammie show.”
I threw up my hands. “The Sammie show?” Me? The person who could barely peel herself off the wall at a party? The person who talked to a computer instead of people? What the hell was she talking about?
“I mean, you aren’t always like that, Sammie,” Maddie said, closing her eyes briefly. She opened them again. “I was exaggerating. But I avoided you because I was afraid you would use me as, like, emotional support, whenever it was convenient for you, without giving any back. And of course I could never question you, because you’re sick and you should have what you want…”
“I would never do that,” I said quietly.
“People do it without realizing it,” she replied. “It’s not their fault.”
I just looked at her, waiting. Now I was afraid to talk, for fear I was dumping something on her.
Maddie put her hands on the side of her face and sighed, looking at me. “Does what I’m saying make sense? I don’t know. Maybe I’m putting too much of my own shit into this.”
I swallowed and said the smallest thing I could think of. “I’m really confused.”
“Me too,” she said, and the bell rang for first period.