Story: For What It's Worth (all chapters)

Part One: Perrie

Midterms are nearing though, and the lessons are being discussed hurriedly so I don’t really want to miss anything of importance. Calculus has never been my strong suit and even though I know I could pass the course without much effort, I need to put a little extra and gain a little more in terms of final grades so I could shift to another major.

Taking up engineering is the last attempt to please my mother and fix things with her. I’m done with doing all these attempts though, because most of the time, I do them at the cost of my own happiness.

Ever since I came out – or more like was forced to, given the circumstances – back in my junior year of high school, my relationship with my mother started deteriorating. At first, she didn’t want to believe it, even though she was metaphorically slapped in the face with my so-called ‘deviant preferences’ (her words, not mine). And then, when she eventually ‘accepted’ it, she also figured out the fact that I’m not the child she had dreamt of. That I could never be the average, professional, successful, perfect daughter and eventually suburban mother and wife that she wants me to be.

Before all that, my mother and I had an easy-going relationship. We had interesting conversations and I told her things about school and my friends and the like. We never fought and I always thought she was a level-headed woman. I admired her cool, calm, and collected personality, even in the midst of crisis, like her and my father’s eventual separation. She inspired me to do well in school and she was always supportive of me.

Now, there’s this barrier between us that just wouldn’t go away. I’ve been trying so hard to break that down, but no matter what I do, I just feel this coldness from her. The calm, cool, and collected person I admired before has turned into someone I barely even know – distant, closed-off – and inevitably, I had no other choice but to give up trying. My mother still speaks to me, but it’s as if the woman I knew before is gone. It hurts too much to be treated this way, but now, I’m starting to realize that I want to live my life for myself, not for my mother or for anyone else.

My father was my main source of support and overall foundation during the time that my mother began shutting me out. Those constant phone calls from my father and his reassuring voice made me strong. His never-ending love and affection brought me out of my lows. Even though he was thousands of miles away, he never forgot to call me everyday for months. Now, we still talk regularly, but only on a bi-weekly basis because I know he couldn’t really afford the phone bills and he wouldn’t allow me to be the one initiating the calls unless absolutely necessary.

My friends also kept me going on. They were actually the first ones I came out to and they accepted me wholeheartedly. I’ve always known how difficult I am to deal with sometimes and I’m nothing less than grateful that they stood by me and continues to stand by me despite all my episodes. I feel like they’ll always be there to rescue me when I’m about to drown in my insecurities.

It’s funny that only two weeks after I came out, Jan came out too. And then, just a year ago, Claire said that she’s probably bisexual. We’ve been friends for so long but to tell the truth, before I told them of my sexual orientation, I never once entertained the idea that any of them would also lean the same way. As it turns out, Lizzie’s actually the only heterosexual in our little clique.

I never really saw it coming.

My friends always tell me that when it comes to people, I don’t see things clearly all the time anyway, so I guess it’s acceptable. Give me school work and I could ace them any time. Emotions and humans in general, on the other hand? I’m pretty sure I’m probably on the top of the list when it comes to being a lousy judge of character.

I’ve just entered the classroom and the professor spares me a brief glance before proceeding with his lecture. Most of the students don’t even bother looking at the newly-entered student – me – because they’re already used to students coming in and out of the classroom in the middle of class. I see Claire smiling at me, and I move towards where she’s seated.

She’s chosen a middle seat this time and I see her picking up the bag and book she placed on the seat beside hers. This kind of thing is already like a ritual between us. When I happen to come earlier, I save a seat for her. She does the same when she’s the early bird, like now.

“I finished up a lab report for Physics lab last night. Ended up sleeping a little late and you know the rest,” I turn towards her as I sit down and she looks at me.

“Maybe I should give you a new alarm clock for your birthday. Yours suck,” she replies in a whisper so as not to disrupt class and catch the prof’s attention.

“Jan’s going to sock you if she ever hears you say that. She’s pretty much protective of that damn defective clock. I’m considering giving it back to her so that she could try it out for herself and think twice before defending it.”

Claire smirks at me, “We both know that if you do that, you’re just going to break her fragile little heart.”

I shake my head a little mainly because of two reasons. One, if ever a fragile little heart there is, it most likely would not be Jan’s. Two, I still have no idea why Jan is so adamant in defending that alarm clock she gave me for Christmas last year. “I still don’t see what’s with that clock. And every time you guys come over, she makes sure she sees that thing on my bedside. I don’t get it.”

“It’s not about the clock, Perrie.” Claire is smiling again, but I can see that it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her statement sounds like an implication for something more, but before I ask her about it, she shifts her attention to the professor. I let the comment go. If Claire wants to tell me something, I know she would. The fact that she seems to have forgotten what she just said means I also am intended to forget or ignore it.

I move my attention forward, to the lecture going on, after I look at Claire for a little while. She’s undeniably very pretty – one of the prettiest girls I’ve seen in my life – and I know for sure that she also easily catches the attention of a lot of guys and girls. She’s very picky though, when it comes to the people she dates and as of late, she’s never had a relationship that actually lasts longer than maybe four months. Most of the time, her partners end up being jealous because of all the attention she gets, and Claire really has a thing against jealousy. She’s okay with people being clingy, because she admits she has a tendency to be clingy too, but she can’t stand jealous green-eyed boyfriends or girlfriends.

Claire says she’s all about the trust and I totally get that.

Of course, she also says she’s never been in love with any of the people she has previously dated. She keeps telling us that she’ll only ever really be in love with someone who can trust her a hundred percent and she could trust back the same way.

I totally get that too.

Claire pokes my shoulder and I realize that my mind has started wandering again. I don’t look like I’m daydreaming or anything, but if there’s one person who could catch me on my unguarded moments, it’s certainly Claire.

I really should pay attention to this course.

Not that I want to.

(Tbc)

Part Two: Jan

Among the four of us, I’m probably the one who cries the most but looks the least like it. There are moments when I’m alone, oftentimes when I’m in my room at night, and I just feel the tears fall. I don’t sob anymore. I just cry quietly and it’s already something that I’ve accepted as a part of my life.

In the beginning, I always tried to keep the tears at bay. I remember telling myself over and over that I should be stronger, that I should be able to keep it all in, that I should get past the stupidity of my emotions and not be bound by them.

Eventually, I gave in. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It just happened.

It happened when I saw Perrie breaking down for the first time.

At first, I hated the girl who broke Perrie’s heart. Perrie didn’t deserve to be treated that way, to be cheated on when all she did was make herself vulnerable by falling deeper and deeper everyday. I was consoling Perrie on the outside, but I was seething on the inside. It took awhile before her desperate, heartrending cries stopped, but when they finally did, that was the time I felt myself starting to hate Perrie.

That was also when the seemingly endless flow of tears came.

I remember thinking how much I hated Perrie for being so blind. She couldn’t see what was right in front of her. She could have had so much more. She didn’t deserve that lying, cheating bitch, and yet, there she was, following around like the clichéd image of a love-sick puppy. As silly as it sounds, I hated Perrie for getting her heart broken because she really, really didn’t deserve that.

And then, after I got past the feeling of aversion towards Perrie – which really didn’t last very long – I remember hating myself. I hated myself for loving Perrie, for being in love with the naïve, unaware, smart, charming, gorgeous girl who also happens to be one of my closest friends.

I remember thinking there must be something really wrong with me if Perrie couldn’t see me as anything but just a friend, because I sure as hell didn’t hide my attraction well. The fact that I came out two weeks after she did should have clued her in. But no. She remained blissfully unaware, and she still does to this day. When I flirt with her, she flirts back and she doesn’t even know it. It’s irritating, really. Frustrating as hell too.

I don’t hate myself any more, or wonder if something’s wrong with me. I’ve done all I can short of telling her that I’ve been in love with her for the longest time, and Perrie still doesn’t get it. I know for sure, I’m not going to confess my feelings for her. She’s probably going to freak just because she’s, well, Perrie.

I know I won’t be able to take the unease that will come with her trying to figure out how to let me down easily. And knowing Perrie, she’s going to say all the wrong things because she’s trying so hard to say the right things. Eventually, it will end up being very awkward between us, and I don’t want to risk losing the kind of friendship that I already have with her now.

So, I settle. Compromise.

It just gets so hard sometimes. It’s especially more difficult when Perrie starts seeing someone, only to end up the same way – either she gets cheated on, or the other girl loses interest. Ironic that Perrie’s whole first name is Aphrodite and yet, she’s one of the most ignorant when it comes to choosing the right person to date. But now that I think of it, the Greek goddess Aphrodite wasn’t any wiser either, so I guess what Perrie does is actually live up to her namesake.

Honestly, she’s one of the smartest people I know, but she just can’t seem to find anyone half-decent to date. If her skills on character analysis are even a little bit as good as her superior IQ, then I might be able to let her go, knowing I’m leaving her in good hands or whatever.

Or maybe, I’m deluding myself again because… letting her go? God knows I’ve tried.

I definitely can’t understand how all those girls just leave her like that. I’ve struggled to get out of the choke hold that my emotions for her have me in, but I just can’t. I tried looking for someone else to distract me, but every time I see someone interesting – or finds me interesting – Perrie always comes into view sooner or later and I’m gone again.

Besides, I don’t think it’s fair to use someone just because I can’t stop loving one of my best friends. I don’t want to be that kind of girl. I don’t want to be that kind of person.

So, I suck it all in. Again, with the compromise. As long as I get to be with Perrie, even just in the platonic sense, I think I’ll survive.

At least there’s Claire.

Who knows. Everything.

At least there’s Claire who listens when I can’t do anything but let it out. When I’m weak and depressed and just plain emotional – all because of Perrie and her lack of awareness – there’s Claire to fall back on.

I don’t know what I would do without her.

If Perrie is my Achilles heel, Claire is my rock.

Like that time I first released all my pent-up hidden feelings through sobs, telling Claire was never part of the plan – or some semblance of a plan I initially had to keep it all to myself and not get anyone involved in my internal drama.

Claire finding out…that was never supposed to happen. But it did.

She was the one who found me, actually. Breaking down the same way Perrie broke down in my arms. And there and then, I knew. I knew I had no other choice but to tell her.

To let her in. To let her know.

And now, we both hold the key to my secret.

I’m grateful that she understands. Claire is always there when Perrie’s being a fool again and I’m hurting because for the life of me, I can’t figure out why the person I’m in love with just can’t be the fool I want her to be. A fool for me the same way I’m a fool for her.

Fool for her. I’ll laugh at anyone who says that to my face. It’s cheesy and corny and anyone who has ever had an encounter with me knows I don’t do cheesy or corny or anything even remotely connected to those two things. That’s the image I portray. The tough, artistic chick who won’t take crap from no one.

But inside, I know I’m just the pining girl who needs Claire to keep her sane. To keep me sane.

I let out an audible sigh and I realize that the tears have stopped leaking out. That maybe, my nightly dosage of silent weeping is done. Maybe, I can finally end this frustrating day in slumber and wake up to another morning. Another frustrating day of hoping that possibly, it’s going to be the day.

The day Aphrodite notices me.

(Tbc)

Part Three: Lizzie

Only someone like Perrie would buy an apartment based on its room number.

But of course, she had a valid reason. She always has a valid reason.

She told us that technically, all apartments in her building look the same. Generic, she said. So there would possibly be no other way but to choose based on number. She said this with that cute grin on her face and we were left with nothing to do but to accept her reasoning.

I think we were all too amused to disagree anyway.

I don’t wait long before the door opens to reveal the owner of the now personalized pad. My smile never fades when I see her unkempt state.

She’s wearing a white tank top, blue shorts that reach just above her knees, and a pair of flip flops. Her thick, chin-length, black hair is a mess and I can definitely see some strands sticking out. Her face – which is really a sight to see, depending on your interpretation – looks as sleepy as her stance.

“You look good as always, Perrie,” I smirk.

She opens her eyes a little wider and snorts, “Yeah, yeah. I’m hot. Come in.”

I step inside and look at the immaculately clean place as opposed to its inhabitant. I plop down on the fairly small couch and look back at Perrie who just closed the door.

“I was sleeping,” she’s moving towards the mini-kitchen.

“I never would have noticed,” I reply back, smirk still in place.

Perrie, now looking more awake, turns to look back at me before opening the fridge to peer inside. “Want anything to drink?” She squints at the sight that beholds her. “Wow, fridge is almost empty. I almost forgot it’s grocery day.” She pointedly looks at me. “And you’re coming with me, right?”

“Would I be here for any other purpose?”

She scoffs as she turns back towards the fridge. “Other than to be with your good ‘ole teddy bear, you mean?”

My smirk turns into a knowing smile. “Other than that, of course.”

She closes the fridge as she takes out a can of grape soda and a can of pineapple juice. I realize that I didn’t tell her what I want to drink, but it seems as if she already knows it anyway.

She lazily sits down beside me, handing me the juice and then opening her soda. I look at her drink ruefully and after taking a large gulp, she looks at me, her expression now one of defensive confusion.

“What? I like fruit soda. Get over it, Lizzie,” then takes another hefty gulp.

I shake my head in amusement before opening my own drink and taking a sip.

“I don’t know what is up with you and fruit soda. Seriously, Perrie. Fruit sodas taste like crap,” I can’t help but say after a while. Admittedly, we’ve been friends since sophomore year of high school, but our friendship has never really reached that easy-going, bantering stage…until recently. Now, I find these teasing conversations with Perrie refreshing. As a matter of fact, it seems as if I can’t quite get enough of them.

“No, they don’t,” she’s pouting now. What self-respecting adult would pout over an argument on fruit sodas? I mean, really.

“Remember cherry soda? That tasted like cough medicine. And don’t get me started on the raspberry one.”

“Cherry soda was good! Don’t you insult my cherry soda!”

I raise my eyebrow and her outburst turns into another round of pouting. Yes, I admit Perrie-pout is somewhat adorable, but I swear sometimes it’s like I’m talking to a freaking ten year old.

“Fruit sodas are good. Really, really good…” She’s trying, one last time, but of course I’m not giving in. I continue looking at her, my raised eyebrow firmly in place, and she starts to fold, like a little child to her stern parent.

“Fine,” she mutters and I relax with a smile. “You go be with your healthy juice thingy.”

I move closer to her, the small couch making the action easier, and she puts one of her arms around my shoulders. I snuggle comfortably against her warm body and sigh softly in contentment. This, being with Perrie, has been my comfort zone the past couple of weeks. I certainly wouldn’t have survived without her.

“Perrie, honey, this healthy juice thingy I’m drinking came from your fridge.”

I can’t see her facial expression, but I know she just huffed. “You put that there last Monday, remember? Along with that orange juice thingy and the other canned lemonade thingy.” Her gentle hands move to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Well, you sure didn’t take them out.”

“I’ve actually learned something important these past few days about you and your health drinks. If I don’t want to risk dismemberment, I should never offer you a fruit soda when you come here to hassle me once again on my choice of beverage.”

“You’re a fast learner.”

“I try.”

There’s silence between us after her statement because Perrie knows I came here for a reason other than to taunt her and her silly drinks. If I only wanted to accompany her to do her grocery shopping, I wouldn’t have come here this early. She knows this too. She’s waiting for me to start talking, to start telling her what’s wrong, just like what I’ve been doing lately.

So I tell her.

“I saw him again today.”

She still doesn’t speak but I feel a hand squeeze my shoulder.

“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear,” I make sure Perrie understands that this time around, I really am trying to move on. I admit I’ve been sort of stalking my ex-boyfriend at the beginning of the whole break up, but Perrie really has helped a lot when it comes to getting over him. “I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I mean, him more so. I just… was there. And he was there with his newest fucking bimbo. Asshole didn’t even acknowledge my existence.”

If I’m talking to Claire, I know she would have said, “Sorry” and give some kind of logical advice. Jan would tell me that he’s not worth my time anyway if he can’t see what he just lost.

But this is Perrie.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t give any advice. She doesn’t even so much as try to make me feel better.

She’s just there. She listens.

And inevitably, she makes me feel so much better than I think I’d ever be.

Just by being there.

Perrie and I, we’ve always been good friends from the start. She’s the kind of girl you can’t possibly not like, you know? I became a part of our group because of being classmates and then friends with Claire but eventually, I was also drawn to the enigma of Jan and the charm of Perrie. Still, before recently, I always considered Claire to be my closest friend among the three. Jan has the tendency to come off distant and Perrie has the tendency to be oblivious most of the time. Claire just seems more grounded. Wiser than the rest of us.

When Brent and I broke up, I first thought of going to Claire. For some advice, a little girl talk, I’m not sure. But then, I realized that Claire probably won’t understand. She always makes it a point to tell us she’s never been in love and I don’t think she would quite understand how it feels to have your heart ripped apart.

I never thought of going to Jan because in the first place, I wouldn’t really know how to tell her anything. She claims she’s gay but she’s never really had any relationship that I know of, and I doubt she’d have some secret rendezvous or something because I’m sure she won’t hide these kinds of things from us. Personally, I think she’s better off telling people she’s asexual. She doesn’t even have celebrity crushes and I think I started having celebrity crushes when I was eight!

So instead, I found myself walking to this familiar diner and I knew. I just knew who to talk to. I knew the person who already has had her heart broken and won’t give me advices she’s never even taken herself. I knew someone I can pour my heart out to without feeling self-conscious about it.

And here we are now, weeks after that night. I’m being cocooned in Perrie’s gentle embrace and I feel absolutely safe. Safe, satisfied, and still able to ignore that certain something I’m sure I’m not ready to face yet.

I’d like to keep it that way.

“Want to watch a movie before grocery shopping?”

I still can’t see her face and I’m too contented in my position to look up, but I know she’s looking down at me with tender, understanding eyes. She knows I’m not going to let the offer down just like I never turned down all her other attempts at comforting me. I trust her and she knows that too, but she always makes sure to ask before deciding anything for the both of us. She always makes sure to keep me on the driver’s seat. She never stirs. She never guides. She’s just there.

My safety net.

“I’d love to.”

(Tbc)

Part Four: Claire

I can’t show them that though.

In the first place, why would someone like me get pissed off at something like this? I have no reason to.

Or at least I have no reason that I would be comfortable enough telling people about.

So all I do is stay put and wait for what’s next. I’m sure soon, something’s going to come up and I’d be expected to do what I do best. Pick up the pieces.

Sometimes, it just gets too hard being myself. Being the one person who sees all, who understands everything, who is entrusted with deep secrets and hidden feelings when I can’t even tell anyone how I feel.

How I really feel.

I’m the sturdy one. The constant.

Everyone sees Jan as the strong one, but everyone’s also aware that she has issues. I may be the only person who actually knows what’s wrong, but everyone’s pretty sure there’s that something just hovering behind her. That aura of angst that makes her indifferent and apathetic.

Lizzie may look as normal as the next person, but everyone knows she’s the boy crazy girl. You know, the one who’d do anything for her boyfriend? So yes, she’s got issues too. Lizzie can stoop as low as stalking a guy she just met at a bar, for Pete’s sake. How crazy can you get after that?!

And Perrie. Perrie, oh Perrie. She’s the blind moron. Do I really need to elaborate some more?

As for me? I’m the rope that binds our little group together. I’m expected to ground all four of us to the real world. I’m this one person who can make sense of everything. The one who keeps all of us grounded.

The sturdy element. The constant.

Fuck, I hate it.

I hate the responsibility of being, well, me. Claire.

Especially at times like this when there’s just one thing I want to do. Wanna know what that is?

I want to stand up, shout everything I’m feeling until I have no voice left, and just bang someone’s head on the table until she finally, finally gets it.

Who, you ask?

No, I’m not telling.

Not in a million fucking years, no.

Jan stands up and looks pointedly at me, “I’m going to the washroom.” Without acknowledging the other two occupants of the table, she heads to the right where the washroom is at.

I look briefly towards Jan’s retreating figure before turning back to our table and instantly meeting Perrie’s concerned gaze.

“Is something wrong with Jan?”

Biting my inner lip is all I could do not to sigh. Perrie’s being an idiot again.

I look to Perrie’s side and see Lizzie. Our eyes meet before Lizzie turns to stare down at the pristine silver table. Perrie sees this and she turns to gently nudge the other girl, brows now furrowed.

“Liz, know what’s wrong with Jan?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Jan,” I interject before Lizzie can speak up. She looks up at me but I stand up, the metallic chair making a squeaky noise with the floor. “I’ll go see what’s up, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

It’s Perrie’s voice I hear before I turn to leave for the washroom. “Okay, make sure she’s okay.”

Sometimes, it’s cute how Perrie just seems like a naïve child. But times like these just make me sad to think of how oblivious she is.

The washroom is small with only two cubicles, a sink, and a mirror. The moment I enter, I see no one and think for a second that Jan’s gone. But then, I realize that she’s just inside the only occupied cubicle and after a while, comes out and stands in front of the sink and mirror. We stand side by side.

I stare at her reflection on the mirror. She stares back.

“You okay?”

“Do you honestly think I’m okay, Claire?”

I sigh.

“Did you just see what was happening there? For god’s sake, Claire!”

“I know. I have eyes too,” I shake my head. I can’t look her in the eye now. It’s too much for me to see the pain in hers, but I know it’ll be more painful if she realizes what the eyes staring back at her reflect.

“I mean, I know, for god’s sake, I accept it. Nothing’s going to happen; I know that. She’s never going to notice me. Again, I know that. I’ve accepted it. But, fuck Claire! This one, I can’t accept.”

“Jan…”

“No, Claire. This one, I don’t know how to accept.”

There’s silence. It’s awkward and it’s like I’m talking to some part of Jan but the rest is just dying and I don’t know what to do.

“What do I do, Claire?”

Jan is looking at my reflection on the mirror and I do my level best to meet her gaze this time. It doesn’t matter at this point if she sees what my own eyes cannot hide because I know for sure she won’t understand it. Not when she’s being like this.

Not when all four of us are now in this tangled mess of secrets.

“What do I do? Tell me what to do, please.”

“I don’t know what to say, Jan. Honestly.”

This time, it’s Jan who sighs and looks down. She holds on to the sink, probably for support. Just to hold on to something. Not to fall completely.

But she knows otherwise.

We both know otherwise.

“Perrie wants to know what’s wrong,” I tell her in a soft but declarative tone.

“Well, you can go tell her to fuck off.”

“Okay,” and with this, she looks up again at our reflections, a small smile now on her face. I smile too and Jan shakes her head. The mood’s a little lighter. There’s tension, yes, but now we can handle it.

“I know it’s not Perrie’s fault.”

“Neither is it yours. Neither is it Lizzie’s.”

“Why can’t I just fall for someone else? You know, like that cute girl in my Art Studies class? The one who keeps checking me out?” Jan says this still with the smile and I’m relieved to find that the smile isn’t as pained as I would have expected given the situation.

“Because the Art Studies girl doesn’t obsess over her Buffy DVD collection, doesn’t cram a Philo major project the day before and still ace it, doesn’t stress over a Calc exam like it’s the end of the world, doesn’t make sure her fridge is always stuck with sodas of varying fruity flavors, and doesn’t keep your gift on her bedside even if we all know it’s a sucky alarm clock,” Jan laughs a little and I smile that she’s now relaxed. “Because the Art Studies girl isn’t as sweet, and as clueless as Perrie. Because we can’t really control who we fall in love with, Jan. Even if we want to.”

“God, this hurts.”

“I know.”

Jan closes the distance between us and I embrace her as tightly as possible. I want to tell her she’s not alone. That she doesn’t have to be hurting alone.

That I don’t want to be hurting alone either.

But I don’t say anything. I just wrap my arms around her and she does the same.

“Thank you, Claire. Thank you for just being you.”

And this time, I forget that sometimes, I hate being myself.

(Tbc)

Part Five: Perrie

Okay, well maybe I’m freaking out again. Maybe, like my friends say all the time, I’m blowing this whole thing out of proportion again. But see? I can’t help it.

I’m a sucker for studies. What can I say?

And the Calculus midterms exam is tomorrow for Pete’s sake!

I look at the obscenely thick book I’ve just been poring over the past few hours. Well actually, I’ve been studying for the past few days, sneaking in a few problem solving here and there when I have the spare time or when I’m not being bombarded with orders from regular and not so regular customers. My aunt wholeheartedly supports the way I care so much about college education and I love her for it.

Actually, I love her for everything she’s helped me with these past few years.

She owns the diner I work for actually, and I’ve been working here since I was still a freshman back in high school. It started out as a part-time thing every weekend just so I can save a few bucks for myself, and I ended up working for her every night when I realized that I finally had an idea what I wanted to save up for: my very own place.

I know I can never really afford to buy myself a house, not yet anyway, so I opted for the cozy apartment that I have now. I have enough saved up to pay for the rent for as long as I want, I guess, and right now, I’ve already paid enough for a full year.

I’m proud of my place. It’s not that big like a condo but it’s enough for me. I have my own bedroom (with the walk-in closet and my clean bathroom), my very own kitchen (which Claire absolutely adores and Lizzie bombards with her kind of food all the freaking time), and a decent enough living room. I have friends over almost all the time, but even when I’m the only one there, I don’t feel so alone. And the best part is that every time I step through the door into my apartment, I’m reminded that it’s all mine. That it all comes from the money I saved up from my hard work.

I can’t help the smile on my face as I clean up the papers strewn all over the counter, evidences of the nerd that I am. And probably always will be. Claire tells me to loosen up all the time, but I think I’m loose enough. I mean, I just care for my education a whole lot.

There’s a slight knock on the semi-tinted glass doors that I hear quite clearly given the silence of the place and I wonder who could be out there, knocking on the door of an establishment that’s obviously closed, at this late time of the night. I look up from packing away my things when I see the girl that was just on my mind a few moments ago.

Claire is standing outside the diner, looking bored but surprisingly not tired, and as I put the last of my things inside my messenger bag, I sling it over my shoulder and walk towards her. She smiles at me when I come out, and I turn to lock the door.

“I knew you’d still be here. I was at your place but no one’s there so I figured you’d be here.”

I look back at her after making sure I’ve closed the diner door, “I got caught up studying for the midterms.”

Claire laughs lightly, “You are such a nerd. Loosen up a little!”

I grin at the words she spoke out, the same sentiment I had been thinking about. Claire is just adorable, she doesn’t even know it.

“So you say all the time, Claire.”

“It’s just the plain truth, my friend. You are one hell of a nerd,” I feel her link her arm to mine as we walk together towards my beloved apartment. “I don’t get why you even have to study, really. You’re a genius! If I had your brains, I’d spend my time having fun.”

I speak without thinking, “Studying is fun,” and from the way we just stopped and Claire looks at me as if I’ve grown some kind of monster on my head, I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have done that.

Claire shakes her, with a teasing smile on her face. “Nerd.”

“Well, what’s your definition of fun?”

“You know better than ask me that, Perrie. What’s more fun than parties, parties, and more parties?”

Right. Of course, I knew that.

“Oh, and a little dating on the side doesn’t hurt too,” she smirks.

Yup. That too. This is Claire I’m talking to anyway. Probably one of the hottest girls in the planet. At least one of the hottest girls I’ve ever had the chance of meeting.

She gently squeezes the arm she’s holding – mine – as she turns to look at me with one of those sly smiles of her. The kind only she can pull off, and the kind she’s been known for since forever (and forever goes a long way back, really).

“Speaking of dating,” and there goes that smile again, “anyone caught your eye?”

Is she actually asking me this? Tonight?

“Are you asking me if I… like someone?”

She shrugs but pointedly looks at me with that freaking smile. God, this girl can manipulate her way into anything.

I bite the inside of my lip, “I’m swamped with school stuff. Really Claire, do you think I have time for that?” I didn’t want to sound defensive, but I’m pretty sure I just did, because she’s not smiling anymore. She looks serious and contemplative and I don’t know how to stop these damn loud drum beats from somewhere inside.

Shit.

“Perrie…”

“I’m not like you, Claire. I don’t treat dating like it’s some kind of game. Or pastime,” we stop in front of my apartment building and I give her an equally serious gaze. “You know me. When I fall,” I sigh, “I fall.”

“I do know you. And I’m just – I don’t know – I’m just concerned.” We’re walking again; actually, we’re climbing the stairs to where my apartment’s at. “That’s why I came over. We haven’t talked in a while. I just thought we could catch up.”

She shrugs but I know there’s more behind what she’s saying. I may be dense and oblivious most of the time, but there are moments when I become aware of people keeping things from me. And this time, I’m sure there’s something Claire isn’t saying.

Something I don’t want her to say. Because I think I know what it’s about.

I open the door to my room and we walk in. She walks past me to the couch as I fumble for the light switch. When the place finally becomes illuminated, I see her settling on the couch, making herself comfortable.

I drop my bag beside the couch and walk towards the kitchen. “You just miss hanging out with me,” I say, looking back at her.

“Yeah, and I felt like having a spontaneous sleepover. Of course here, in your spiffy bachelorette pad that I feel like I haven’t been to in a long time.”

I take a swig off the water bottle that are now in my hands and turn back to her. “Well, Lizzie’s been hogging the place a lot lately.”

And then I realize I just said the worst thing when Claire quips back, “And she’s been hogging you too.”

Oh shit damn. What?

“What?”

“Your time. I meant, your time,” Claire stands up, approaches me, and I swallow. Only, there’s no water in my mouth left to swallow. “Or are there other things she’s been hogging that I don’t know of?”

I don’t look at her so she proceeds to rummage through the fridge. “I don’t know what you’re saying, Claire.”

Because really, I don’t. I mean, I shouldn’t.

Only, I think I do.

Sort of.

I know she just closed the fridge even though I’m still not looking at her. And I can feel her stare at me, gauge me maybe, but I refuse to look her way.

“Whatever,” she sighs, but I’m sure it’s not the defeated kind. It’s the kind that’s an indication of more to come. Only not now.

A familiar ring tone cuts through the air and I’m relieved for the distraction that will hopefully end the conversation Claire and I have been having. Don’t get me wrong. I always love talking to Claire, but I just don’t like where this is going right now.

I hurriedly walk to where my bag is, and I retrieve the phone inside. When I look at the caller ID, I feel that slight something in my stomach. I flip the phone open and answer the call, “Hey.”

“I knew you’d still be up. Stop studying and go to sleep!” comes the voice from the other line.

“I am done studying.” I smile a little, and I can feel Claire’s eyes on me again.

“Well, then go to sleep now.”

“Didn’t you ever consider the possibility that I’d already be asleep?”

There was a light chuckle, and I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling a tad wider. “Frankly, no. You don’t sound sleepy though.”

“That’s because I wasn’t sleeping.”

“See? What were you doing up when you’re already done studying?”

“Talking to Claire.”

“Oh,” a slight pause, “She’s there?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell her I said hi.”

This time, I finally look at Claire, who is still – guess what? – looking at me. “Lizzie says hi.”

One of Claire’s eyebrows rises up a little and I have to break contact. Good thing it’s the moment Lizzie speaks again.

“Now, go to sleep, Perrie. I mean it.”

“I will, I will.”

“Stop being such a study freak and get some rest, ‘kay?”

“Yes, mom.”

There’s a very audible giggle from the other line and then a, “Good night, Per.”

“G’night, Liz.”

“Sweet dreams.” And then she hangs up.

“That was Lizzie, huh?” Claire’s in front of me now, and the look on her eyes are a mixture of amusement and condescension. “Does she make it a point to call you to sleep every night?”

“She does it sometimes, Claire.”

Claire scoffs. She scoffs and then pokes my nose.

“Where’s your spare toothbrush?” And then she’s walking away.

Shit damn.

(Tbc)

Part Six: Jan

Okay, it isn’t. But the prof is.

I think I’m about as awake as a hibernating bear right now.

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. But really? How possibly boring can this dude get? And how possibly cruel to subject us all to an hour of monotonic rambling disguised as lecture?

The reason I chose to be an artist is to express myself in the most creative way imaginable…and to get out of these damn boring lectures.

Only, I can’t because Art history is part of the fucking curriculum.

Fuck curriculum.

Fuck people you call ‘friend’ who put the moves on other people you also call ‘friend’ that just so coincidentally has been the love of your life since the beginning of time.

…

Where’d that come from?!

I am so screwed. Godfuckingdamn! Why can’t I just get the hell over this?!

And who am I to dictate who has the right to flirt with Perrie anyway? Or who Perrie flirts with back? I mean, I’m just Jan. I’m just her friend, Jan.

Fuck.

My head falls on my desk with a thump, and apparently, it’s a pretty loud thump because that darn monotone comes to a halt and the next thing I’m hearing is a, “Are you okay, Miss Dizon?”

I suppress a pitiful groan – which is a really hard thing to do, considering the circumstances – and I raise my head slowly back up to look at the balding torturer dude who pretends to be the class professor.

“Yes, sir. Just a…a headache.”

“Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

“No, sir, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I was wrapping up the discussion anyway,” and he turns to the rest of the class – the now just waking class, “You know your readings for next meeting, people. See you then.”

People start standing up one by one, and they head to the door. I choose to stay and sit for a while until there are only a few left before going on my own way out of the classroom. But before I step out the door, there’s a hand on my shoulder and I look back to see who owns the said hand.

“You got a next class, Jan?”

It’s Lianne, the half-Chinese girl seated to my right in class and probably one of the very few people I talk to in this class that I actually don’t find irritating. She isn’t that outspoken but she’s outgoing enough and she wears this really nice black-rimmed glasses that suit her well, if I may say so myself.

“Nope, I’m done for the day. You?”

“I’m supposed to have photography next but class is cancelled for the day, so we’re on the same boat.”

We walk side by side in silence for a while. She’s getting something from her bag and I’m just my usual self.

“So where’re you headed?” I hear her ask.

“Just to hang out somewhere, I guess. I don’t really know. Eat something, or whatever.”

I feel a slight vibration in one of my jean pockets and I pull out my phone to read the message.

“You play the guitar, right?”

“Yeah,” I reply, distractedly. Perrie just sent me a message.

“Well we – I mean, me and some of my friends – we’re kind of forming a band and… Yeah, we’re sort of short. I mean, we’re one member short. And Rick – he’s the drummer,” she looks at me and I force my eyes away from the message, “I think you know him. He’s a classmate of yours. I’m not really sure what class particularly, but he knows you.”

“Uh, yeah, I think I know him,” I look at my phone again.

“Yeah? Well, he said he heard you play the guitar once and he’s wondering…well, we’re all kinda wondering if you, I don’t know, maybe want to join us. Just see for yourself if you want to do it or something?”

So, we haven’t seen you since that time. You know, last week? And if you’re free, we can all have dinner at the diner later… Claire will be there. And Lizzie. And me, duh. So, yeah, reply if you’ll go or not. We kinda miss you, Jan., says the message.

I take a breath of fresh air and turn to Lianne. “Sure,” I shrug.

“Wow!" she stops herself after that brief stint, realizing she looked a little dorky. I smile at her because, well yeah, it was dorky, but good dorky. Cute dorky, anyway. "I mean, that’s great. There are only three of us right now…”

“What do you play?”

She blushes, and again, I smile at that. “I, uh…”

“Let me guess,” she’s looking at the ground as if it’s the most interesting scenery in all the history of artistic sceneries, “vocals?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“I can’t wait to hear you sing,” I rib in for good measure and she just blushes that deeper shade of red, and plants her hands in the back pockets of her form-fitting jeans.

“Um, you can, I mean, we can all have like dinner…or something. Uh, tonight. Just talk a little about the band stuff, and you can meet the bassist,” she turns her unsure gaze upon me. “That’s if you don’t have any other plan? If you do, we can totally just go out some other…uh, time.”

I put the phone I’m holding back inside my pocket without looking at it.

“I don’t have plans,” I smile at her.

Lianne arranges the eyeglasses a bit on the bridge of her nose, and then smiles back. “Great.”

(TBC)

Part Seven: Lizzie

Well, actually, I’m a whole lot tipsier than I thought I would be in this party. But it’s just too much fun not to drink tonight. I think the reason I was so excited when I found out that the school organization I’m a part of is sponsoring this party is that I finally have a logical motivation to just get so drunk and not overthink things. Between Jan’s little tantrum slash avoidance drama and Claire acting up again like I’m doing something so wrong, I’m just so, so tired and exhausted. I need this night.

Oh my god, I’m already tipsy and I’m loving it.

And there are certainly a lot of hot guys tonight so I sure as hell am enjoying every moment I’m here. Yes, I am. In fact, all I’ve been doing since I’ve been here is dance with them. Fuck Brent. He can kiss my very single, very hot ass.

I feel a hand on my elbow, and I look to my right to see Rachel, one of the main organizers of this party, smiling at me and I smile back.

“Having fun, Liz?” she asks, as she hands me another shot glass. I down the vodka in one quick shot and I turn back to her, her smile now turning into a playful grin.

“Oh yeah!”

“I bet you are.”

I laugh with her, “You bet I am!”

I feel the phone vibrating on the side pocket of my jeans so I take it out, slide it open, and put it to my ear without even looking at the caller id. “Heya!”

“Uh, Liz, I’m kinda already outside the club,” I smile a little too wide when I realize it’s Perrie, “I’m going in now…”

I walk a little towards where I know the entrance is and I see her, looking uneasy and out of place, and just too cute for words. “I see you, Per!” I wave my unoccupied hand and she sees it and smiles at me.

I walk purposely towards her now as she puts her phone back to her pocket. Before she even actually realizes that I’m already in front of her, I envelope her in a tight embrace and rub my palms on her shirt-covered back.

God, she smells good.

She doesn’t put her arms around me, but I think that’s because I’m kinda crushing her. “Oh my god, Perrie, I missed you!”

Perrie steps back and disentangles my tight hold on her by sliding my arms off her torso and holding onto my hands for good measure. I squeeze her hands and just grin this silly wide happy grin. Oh god, I’m drunk.

“We just saw each other last night,” she smiles this confused little smile and it’s so damn cute, I swear.

“But it was last night and tonight’s tonight and it’s so long ago!”

“Lizzie, are you drunk?”

“What? N–” and right on cue, Rachel appears by my side and offers me another shot glass of none other than lemon vodka – which is turning out to be quite my favorite, let me tell you – and she also offers Perrie one.

Of course, good ole teddy bear Perrie refuses.

“Thanks, but I don’t really drink…”

I down my shot and then, after a moment, I shake my head a little and poke Perrie on the shoulder. “C’mon, you baby, one tiny drink.”

She gives Rachel a half-smile and a shake of the head and the other girl just shrugs and downs the drink herself. To me, she pointedly looks and with the furrow of her brows, goes, “You’re already drunk, Lizzie.”

Rachel interjects, “Liz can handle herself,” and with a smile, “I’m Rachel.”

Perrie looks back at me and, oh yeah, the introductions!

“Oh right! Rachel, this is Perrie, my good ole teddy bear of a best friend,” I grin and put my arm around her waist. Perrie just smiles. “And Per, this is Rachel, one of the organizers of the party.”

She nods her head in that dorky way of hers, “Hi Rachel.”

Rachel grins. “Hey Perrie. Sure you don’t want a drink?”

Perrie looks around the dark, loud, absolutely awesome club, and I squeeze her waist.

“Uh, can I get soda somewhere? Coke?”

“Over at the bar, sweetie,” Rachel nods her head towards the bar.

“Okay.” To me, “I’ll get you water.” And then she’s off.

I look at Perrie’s retreating figure for a while until Rachel whispers to my ear, “So that’s the lesbian friend, huh? Cute.”

Well, duh. It’s Perrie.

I look at Rachel and she’s grinning, really grinning, and…oh fuck no! “Oh no, Rach, don’t you dare!”

Her eyes widen innocently and I know that whatever she has in mind isn’t anywhere innocent, no.

“No, Rachel.”

“What?”

“I mean it. No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Oh hell, Lizzie, why not? She’s cute. And you told me once before, she’s single. Why not?”

“She’s my friend, Rachel.”

“And so?”

“You don’t mess with my friends! And that’s Perrie! You most especially do not mess with Perrie!”

Rachel shakes her head now, an irritated frown on her face. “What do you think of me, Liz? The bisexual devil whore or something?”

“I know you, Rachel. If you want a one-night stand, you look for someone else, okay? Leave Perrie alone.”

“What if I don’t want just a one-night stand? And what if she’s attracted to me too, huh? Who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do?” I know she’s trying hard not to lose her cool. And I don’t fucking care.

“What’s up?” Perrie’s back, coke in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

“Your friend’s drunk, Perrie,” Rachel’s grin is back and she’s looking straight at Perrie, who just smiles back.

“How many shots has she had?”

“Too many to count.”

“Fuck you, Rachel.” Oh yeah, that’s me.

Rachel looks at me with irritation and Perrie looks at me with concern. Great.

“You know what?” Rachel’s attention is completely on Perrie again, “It was so nice finally meeting you, Perrie.”

Perrie nods her head, still glancing at me, but her smile is for Rachel. “You too, Rachel.”

“We should hang out soon. This is my number,” and Rachel-the-bitch produces a small piece of paper – Does she keep a stash of those or something? – from one of her pockets that she carefully inserts into one of Perrie’s own pockets. “Call me sometime, alright?”

Perrie has the decency to look a little affronted but she just smiles back because she’s Perrie. “Okay.”

“Soon-ish?” What the fuck, Rachel, get lost already!

My cute dear friend bites her bottom lip and it’s just too adorable. “Sure,” she shrugs.

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Oh my god! Enough already!

“Perrie,” I wedge myself in between the two of them so Perrie can only see me, “come with me outside, please?”

I don’t wait for a response before I take the bottle of water she's holding and then move to grab her hand, dragging her towards the exit.

Once we’re finally outside, the loud beats an echo just behind us, Perrie stops me from moving a little further away. “Whoa, whoa, Liz. Drink your water first.”

I look at her and I don’t know why I’m irritated, but I sure am. “I am not that drunk, Per.”

Perrie just looks at me, and then drinks from her can of coke. “Yes, you are.”

“Fuck you.”

Her head snaps up and she frowns. “What’s gotten into you?”

And at that moment, I hate her.

I hate her because she’s nice and cuddly and concerned and she’s got the most intriguing stares and the cutest frowns and half-smiles and oh my god.

She’s here, in front of me, and she doesn’t even like parties and clubs and she doesn’t drink anything alcoholic and yet, she’s still here.

Perrie is one of the most understanding people I have ever met. The most supportive teddy bear even and quite obviously, one of my best friends.

And oh fuck, I’m attracted to her.

I’m not even gay! I’m straight. I’m so straight I’ve never even thought of girls that way! Never.

And now, I’m attracted to my very cute, very dorky, very GIRL best friend. Who’s gay, but still.

Oh my god.

Before I know it, I’m leaning in. The last thing I see is a pair of now wide eyes – hers – and then I close my own. And then I’m kissing her…

…but she’s not kissing me back.

Oh god.

There’s a light prickling at the back of my throat…and…oh shit.

I break the kiss, but I don’t take the time to notice the reaction on her face because, shit, “I’m going to throw up.”

(TBC)

Part Eight: Claire

These are memories that stand out. The kind that I’m sure would flashback to me on my dying moment, if such a thing does really happen. Like the day my eldest brother – the one who always smiled, the one I idolized above all – died in the huge, clean hospital after he OD’d on valium when I was nine. Or that time – I was twelve then – we took my other brother to the airport after he decided to study overseas for college and Mom was crying and Dad was just smiling and Ricky gave me the biggest hug. And of course there’s that time I lost my virginity to Vince inside my own girly room when I was fourteen and both Mom and Dad were out for the week attending this convention or something.

Also, there’s that moment. That one very ordinary, very average moment when I woke up and realized I had actually fallen in love, only to tell Perrie, years after, that I’ve never been in love. Not a complete fat lie because it's true; I've never actually been in love with the ones I dated.

Anyway, these are memories, both good and bad, that I would never trade for anything else. These are memories that make me who I am right now. Memories that signify the person that I am, as well as the people that have made me out to be me. My family, my friends, my exes. Even my first boyfriend Vince who turned out to be a possessive douche bag.

I remember clearly the day Perrie came out to me because that moment has been stored in my head as one of those few memories.

We were laying side-by-side on her bed that afternoon, after finishing our chemistry homework, talking about your usual high school stuff. You know, like teachers and clubs and all that. Perrie and the school paper because she was an editor for the school paper back then. Me and the volleyball team because I played for the team before.

But when I started talking about the cute guys and how I was thinking about breaking up with Daniel – my current boyfriend at the time – because all we ever talked about was his soccer and his friends and his barely passing grades and I was starting to get sick of him, that was also when I noticed Perrie being quiet. Unusually quiet, that is, because Perrie isn’t necessarily the talkative type but when the two of us talk, she always has something to say.

So of course, I stopped blabbing and I turned to look at her. But when she couldn’t even look at me, and then placed her arm to shield her eyes, I knew something was wrong.

So I asked her.

At first, she wouldn’t speak. So I nudged her and poked her and when I pulled her arm away from her face, she still refused to open her eyes and look at me, but said instead, “You’re going to hate me.”

That was when I really started getting worried, because there were dozens of things that Perrie could’ve done – really, really bad things like do drugs or get herself pregnant – and though I knew I won’t hate her, I also knew that she might hate herself.

So, albeit a little warily, I asked her again.

And this time, she looked back at me.

“Claire, do you know that girl who works at the video store?”

“The one with the bad dye job?” I asked, and she smiled but after a while lost that same smile and I felt disappointed.

She was quiet again for a while, with me still looking at her as she stared at the ceiling which I knew was just plain white so it couldn’t have been that interesting.

But when finally, she spoke again and I heard her say the words, I became aware of the fact that I think I stopped breathing for a split second there, or my heart stopped beating, or something in me just stopped.

Because what she said was, “We’ve kinda been going out.”

“You mean, like…” I started saying without realizing I started saying anything at all.

“Dating,” she affirmed, closing her eyes and then breathing out this heavy sigh. “I don’t love her or anything like that,” and I’m pretty sure I sighed myself, “but I like kissing her and um, you know, making out and all that,” and Perrie was blushing and I couldn’t help but smile at that sight.

“Claire, I’m pretty sure I’m gay,” she finally said and then she looked at me with this look on her face that was part fear, part hope, and I gave her a half-smile, ruffled her hair the way I always do, and laid my head on her stomach.

“So what if you’re gay? You’re still Perrie,” was all I said because I knew it was what she wanted to hear from me, even though inside, I wanted to say so much more, ask so much more, to understand, to get past everything her declaration stirred in me. In me and between us both.

And now, sitting here on the driver’s seat of my car, with the engine finally turned off, with Lizzie passed out on the backseat, and Perrie beside me, I’m reminded again of that same Perrie when we were both still sixteen. The Perrie that was unusually quiet. The Perrie that thought I would hate her for being a lesbian.

“Something’s up,” I say, looking at the deserted street in front of us through the windshield.

“What?”

“There’s something you’re not saying, Perrie,” this time, I look at her and she’s the one looking ahead. “Spill.”

Perrie’s biting her lower lip which just goes to show she’s about to cave in. I know she’s just about dying to tell me whatever is on her mind because there’s no one else she might tell it to.

“You’re awesome; do you know that, Claire? I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t come,” Perrie says, now looking at me with a smile that’s just so her.

“Keep talking and I might just be convinced to help you babysit a hungover Lizzie on a Saturday.”

She laughs quietly, softly, “You know you don’t have to do that.”

I poke her shoulder, “Fine. You just won yourself a babysitting partner.”

And then she sighs.

Awesome.

“C’mon, Perrie. Spill it.”

“She kissed me.”

And again, there’s that memory. But this time, it’s not just about Perrie coming out to me back then, but my own silent reaction to what she said.

You know that ‘stopping’ thing?

Yup. It came back.

“She kissed me, Claire.”

“And you kissed her back?” I ask, wanting to know. Because even if I tried to deny it, I had an idea this would happen sooner or later. Lizzie’s not the best when it comes to self-control and she was being too fucking obvious. And Perrie…well, she’ll always be Perrie, that’s for sure.

“No!” Perrie exclaims, but just like that, she furrows her brows in contemplation, “But I don’t know if I would have. I’m not sure that I would not kiss her back if she didn’t start throwing up,” and she bites her lip again, “That was gross, by the way. Reminds me why I never drink. Alcoholic stuff, I mean. ‘Coz, you know, I do drink water and soda and…yeah.”

“Yeah,” I nod, both annoyed and amused.

“So, um.”

“Are you attracted to Lizzie?”

“She’s straight, Claire.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Perrie.”

She sighs, “No?”

“Are you answering me or asking me?”

“I don’t know,” and the look on Perrie’s face makes me feel guilty for doing the inquisition. But it has to be done, and unfortunately, I’m once again being left with the responsibility to do it.

“Perrie, just tell me directly if you like her or not, and then we’ll go from there.”

“No. Okay? No. She’s pretty and she’s a great person. But, Claire, Lizzie is straight and she was drunk and most of all, she’s our friend,” Perrie pauses to massage the bridge of her nose, and I resist the urge to pull her in for a tight embrace. “It’s not… It can’t… I’m not… Just, no.”

“Then you’ll both have to deal with what happened when Liz is finally sober and clearheaded,” I say, the most objective thing to say when I’m in the least objective mood to say it.

There’s silence for a while, until Perrie groans in frustration. “This is just weird and insane.”

“This?”

“Lizzie who was so obsessed with her ex-boyfriend. And…and me! Lizzie and me!” She shakes her head, “It’s too weird and impossible!”

I look to the back, at the girl who used liquid courage to finally take the next step with Perrie. Something Jan was too proud to do. Something…

“No, it’s not,” I tell Perrie and all she gives me back is a frown.

No, it’s not.

(TBC)

Part Nine: Perrie

Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were a little different in your life? You know, like if at one point you chose to do something else instead of what you did, or chose to go a certain way, chose to make something, be someone, even if, at the end of the day, you weren’t necessarily aware of the choices at all. Do you ever wonder how things would have changed in your life; how things would have eventually turned out instead?

I do. I wonder, all the freaking time. All the what-if’s and the how-about-if’s and the if-only’s. I don’t tell anyone about thinking these things, not even Claire who knows almost everything about my life. It’s not because I don’t want to tell; it’s just, well, there is no point in telling. It’s not as if things would change anyway. Not as if thinking this way would make me a different Perrie, a more socially-inept, less disappointing Perrie who knows just the right words in certain conversations and stuttered less, or blabbered less, or never made a fool of herself at moments when making a fool of one’s self is probably the worst thing anyone could ever do.

But I still wonder; I can’t help it. Maybe, I’m just neurotic like that.

What if my mother didn’t catch me making out with a girl I wasn’t even in love with that one time, would we still be close today? Maybe she was just shocked because of course, she had big plans for me, and it didn’t include having a lesbian for a daughter. Maybe if I was a little less eager about the physical aspects of, you know, growing up, and she didn’t catch me like that, if I just eased her into my sexual orientation instead of slapping her on the face with the fact, maybe she would still care for me the same way she did before. Maybe she’d still be proud of me, of the daughter I’m turning out to be – paying for my own way through college, doing quite well in school, having my own place. Or maybe not. I’m a lesbian regardless of what I did, do, and will most likely still do in my life, and maybe, just for that, I will never be enough. Not for her.

And what if I was a little more outgoing as a kid, would I have ever been friends with Claire? I know that the only reason Claire ever talked to me back then was because she pitied me, that lonely little girl sitting at the corner with no one to talk to. At first, it was an awkward kind of friendship, what we had, or maybe I was the one that made it awkward because Claire was the one always with a smile on her face, a twinkle in her eyes, and that ever-endearing laughter I’ve come to be familiar with. But before I knew it, I was laughing along with her, having sleepovers at her house (and her at mine), and she slowly (but surely) brought me out of my shell. I was still shy, still unsure, still awkward, but somehow, being friends with Claire also gave me a kind of confidence that I didn’t know I had (and to be honest, I’m still surprised I can actually tap that same confidence into now, even when there are two other people aside from Claire and my father that are now also my sources of strength).

But yes, what if I had been a little less shy, a little less unsure and awkward, would Claire still have bothered to be friends with me? Would she have approached me the same way she did when we were kids, or would she have chosen to be friends with some other girl, another lonely little girl sitting at the corner with no one to talk to? And on that same note, if we never did become friends, would that also mean not being friends with Jan and Lizzie? Would we still have this quaint little group of friends if I had not been that shy girl with self-esteem issues (and in more ways than one, I guess I still am)?

Would I have been happier if I went out of the country for college, maybe to Switzerland or Canada? Would my parents still be together if I didn’t run up to my room without saying a word after my father asked me about my thoughts on their separation? Would I still be gay if I didn’t accidentally see those two teenage girls making out back when I was twelve and still naïve, still unsure, but slowly (and surely) coming out of my shell?

And would things between me and Lizzie be different now if I had only been a little less unsure, a little less awkward, a little less confused?

“Got a minute?”

I’m only a few steps outside of the classroom – Anthropology, last class for the day – when I immediately see Lizzie half-standing, half-leaning on the wall, her usual bubbly self gone, replaced with that blank look on her face and her eyes piercing right through me.

I have no words.

“We need to talk,” and then she’s walking off without a glance back, her pace slow but steady, obviously waiting for me to follow, but seemingly not caring if I did.

A small part of me is tempted to just walk the opposite direction, to run away from her (and everything that came with it, her, us), to just (for once, just this once) not do something because I have to, because I’m expected to, because it’s the right thing to do.

But I follow her, albeit several steps behind her. That distance between us acting not so much as a barrier, but for me, as a breathing room, so to speak. To allow me to think, to wonder.

Lizzie, on the other hand, has other ideas.

Maybe realizing that I’m too far behind, Lizzie immediately stops and looks back at me. With a scowl on her face, she walks back towards me, grabs my arm, and drags me towards the nearest classroom she could find.

The nearest empty classroom, that is.

So now here we are, inside a small classroom with the door closed and no one to bother us.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

And there she is.

I open my mouth to speak, but before I say anything, before any word comes out, she cuts me off (and in a way, I’m grateful because I really have no idea what to say).

“Look Perrie, I get it, okay? You’re freaking out. It’s perfectly understandable, so I understand that you have every reason to freak out. And if can still say I know you, a part of me kind of already expected this,” she sighs. She bites her lip in annoyance or exasperation or something, and she continues to take the words away from my mind. But that’s okay; she has enough words for the both us, it seems. “But you don’t have to pretend as if I don’t exist!”

Another breath. Another exasperated sigh.

“You win, Perrie! Okay? You win. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I shouldn’t have done that. It was,” a brief pause, “a mistake. I was drunk; you were there.” Lizzie moves to sit down on one of the hardwood chairs. She sighs again, her gaze moving from blackboard to ceiling to floor. “You can stop avoiding me now.”

“So you, uh,” I massage the back of my neck, “you remember? The, um, kiss, I-I mean.”

Her head snaps back to look at me, glaring at me with a WTF expression on her face, “Have you not just heard any of the things I said? Yes, Perrie, I remember.” She stands up and moves to walk out the door, “God, I can’t believe this.”

I don’t know what got into me, but suddenly, I snap out of being the idiot that is me and grab her arm back before she even walks out and away from me. With my hand on her arm, Lizzie turns to face me with that same scowl from earlier and a glare that I’ve seen from her several times before, but never towards me.

“What do you want, Perrie?”

“What do you want, Liz?” I ask her. She’s the one who kissed me, for Pete’s sake. She doesn’t have the right to pretend like this is my fault!

She looks up and exclaims, “Finally, she talks to me!” as if talking to some unknown entity in the heavens or something. Then to me, “If all this time you thought I couldn’t remember all about kissing you that night, why have you been avoiding me?”

And again, we’re back to the lack of words.

Why exactly is that?

“I…” I try, but nothing comes out.

“And don’t you dare give me that bullshit about not avoiding me. I know when I’m being avoided, Perrie, and I hate it,” she’s stopped glaring at me, but the expression on her face isn’t any better. “So…?”

“I… I freaked out.” Words. Finally.

Liz looks away for a second and then looks back, straight at me, and it’s the first time I actually notice the kind of eyes that she has. Hazel brown eyes with a little shade of gray at some parts. Thick, long eyelashes. “Yes. We’ve already established that.”

“I…” the need for a pause. Breathing space. Distance, some kind of distance. “What do you want from me, Lizzie?” I can hear the pounding on my chest, the blood rushing through my veins. I need to get away for a while. I need to breathe.

I can’t.

She blinks, and when her eyes open again to look at me, it’s like something is different, and her eyes are a little more brown, a little more gray. Things are changing. Fast.

Everything is in slow motion.

“Perrie…” she says my name; I hear her say my name. But there is nothing else.

Nothing else.

And then I’m leaning in.

I forget all about the what-ifs and how-about-if’s and if-only’s.

She kisses me back.

(TBC)