Part Three: Lizzie
I rap on the wooden door, the number eleven visibly emboldened above it, and my smile comes out even before I realize I’m doing it. I still see that special day clearly in mind. That day we all helped Perrie clean up her new one-bedroom apartment and get her things settled. She was so proud of her new place – her own place – and one she was able to get from the money she saved after four years of hard-earned labor. She looked so radiant bragging to us about how she haggled her way into apartment number eleven – her favorite number.
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)