Always You by Lizzie Morton
Three
It takes a while to decide what’s best to do with the girls. In the end I opt for taking them back to my parents, rather than trying to navigate each of them into their own home at this time of night.
The drive goes by quickly, as the roads aren’t as hectic as they are in the day. Rolling down the windows, in an attempt to get rid of the awful smell coming from the three of us, I appreciate the feeling of the warm summer air blowing through my hair and across my skin.
There’s a buzz about, as the smells of restaurants and late-night take-out’s fill the car. Laughter and music fill the night as people bustle about on the sidewalks, creating an atmosphere that can only be described as New, Frickin, York. God, I love it. I love Brooklyn. Feelings of doubt already begin to creep in, as I wonder why I ever left.
I mull over the events of the night. Sophie and Zoe have always spent their time getting wasted and into trouble. They’ve taken the classic high school rebellion a step further and it’s always been my job to make sure they’re ok. My role hasn’t changed regardless of where we’ve been. Whenever they’ve met with me at a new location for shoots, I’ve still had to step in and be their second mom.
I guess I wouldn’t have it any other way, otherwise I would have put my foot down years ago. Despite their poor tolerance for alcohol and low inhibitions, they’re my best friends and have been since we were in diapers. We live our lives differently. Zoe claims to be an ‘influencer’ spending her time trialing new bars and restaurants, calling it work. Sophie refers to herself as the eternal student, each year changing her college major, stating that this time it’s ‘The One’. Luckily, they come from middle-class Brooklyn families that help to fund their antics.
Our parents started out working together in music and journalism. Although New York is a big and busy place, when you work in certain sectors the social circles are small and their paths crossed so often it was inevitable, they were going to become friends.
They all relocated from Manhattan to Brooklyn at the same time to start families. It was dead set their children would be friends from the get-go, and that’s exactly what happened. We grew up together, vacationed together, went to school together. Even when I moved away at eighteen to pursue my freelance photography career, they followed me wherever they could, and when we spend time apart, it means nothing. All we do is fall back into old ways.
I smile to myself, as I look in the rearview mirror. Sophie is slumped against the window with her mouth open and Zoe has fallen forward with her head on her lap, a large spot of drool beginning to form. They may be a pain in the ass, but they’re mine and I wouldn’t change them.
I spend the rest of the journey home trying to clear up my plans for the summer in my mind. Keep my head down. Work while I stay in Brooklyn for a couple of months with my parents, rent free, to save some cash. At the end of the summer decide which of the two career making positions I will choose. As it stands, I’m confused about everything. It’s going to take time to decide what path I want my future to take.
There is one thing that’s clear as day. If I’m going to get through the coming months unscathed and with my sanity still intact, then I need to stay away from Jake. Having him back in my life just for ten minutes has resulted in him occupying my mind far more than I would like to admit.
Zoe grunts in the back, bringing me out of my train of thought. For now, it’s best to put the confusion to the back of my mind. Tonight, has been an emotional rollercoaster, and even though they both drive me insane, the two friends in the back of the car are the ones that have stuck with me no matter what. They are what matters. They didn’t leave or choose sides when Jake and I broke up like some of our friends did, and I need to remember that.
***
After what feels like an eternity, I manage to drag Sophie and Zoe out of my parents’ car and up the two flights of stairs to my room. Somehow, we haven’t woken my parents in the process. Even if we had, it wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary for them. Growing up this was a regular occurrence.
When we’re finally settled, I find myself tossing and turning rather than giving in to sleep like my body craves. Exhaustion begins to take over, as the early morning rays of sunlight begin filtering through my blinds. As I finally feel my eyelids drooping and lulling me towards sleep, my cell buzzes … again.
‘Seriously? You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I hiss at it.
I’m aware that I’m talking to an inanimate object, and all I need to do is turn it off if I want to get some sleep. But when I look at the screen, I see Michael’s name flashing at me. Michael is my long-term boyfriend back in Florida, who I somehow neglected to inform I arrived safely in Brooklyn. He has every right to call because he will be worrying about me, and I know he isn’t going to give up anytime soon.
Letting out a sigh, I reach for my cell and answer. “Hey you,” I whisper.
Trying to be quiet and not wake the girls was a wasted effort.
Michael’s voice wails down the line, “Abbbbbbyyyy beeee beeee beeee. Baby. I miss you, baby.”
What is it with everyone getting wasted tonight? Getting wasted and preventing me from sleep, which is beginning to make me extremely grouchy.
“Have you been drinking?” I ask, trying not to sound too fed up.
“Only one, baby.”
“Michael … it’s five am. Why would you still be up at this time if you only had one drink?”
“I miss you so much, baby.”
I picture him in my mind, back in Florida, sitting in his home alone, running his hands through his hair in frustration. I can picture it clearly because it’s what he does when he’s drunk after a night out with the guys and we wind up having one of these conversations.
“We’ve barely been apart twenty-four hours! It’s early and I’ve had no sleep. I’m tired and would like to get some rest,” I say.
I hope he takes the hint and wraps up the call, but he chooses to focus on one of the minor details I let slip.
“Why’ve you had no sleep? Is there another guy? Already, Abby?”
Surprise, surprise, we’re back going over one of Michael’s favorite conversations when he’s drunk. His insecurities regarding our relationship always rear their ugly head when alcohol is involved.
“I’m not having this conversation with you. It’s too early and I’m tired of telling you there isn’t anyone else. When are you going to trust me?”
“Baby, you’re just so distant sometimes. I love you and it’s like you’re not all in like I am. Why do you think I’m wasted after you left?”
“You’re going to blame your decision to get wasted on me?”
“Baby, I love you, I’m sorry.”
“Please stop calling me baby. You know I hate it.”
“I miss you. I don’t understand why we need to spend the summer apart. Why wouldn’t you want to stay down here with me in our home, where we’ve made a life?”
“It’s your home and you know why. There’s no work for me there right now. We’ve had this conversation so many times.”
“Will I be coming with you at the end?”
I don’t hide my sigh. Harsh, but he won’t remember.
“I don’t know if I’m taking either of the jobs yet. Even if I did, what would be the point in you coming? You’re going to leave your career behind, everything you’ve worked for your whole life, while I follow my dreams?”
“Yeah, I would, Abby. That’s what couples who are in love do. They support each other in their decisions, and they make sacrifices for each other. I should go. I just wanted to hear your voice. I won’t bother you while you’re away again,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I got a late call from Sophie and Zoe, hence the no sleep.” I hope the small explanation as to my whereabouts this evening appeases him when he wakes up later. “I’ll speak to you soon when things have settled down.”
I know it’s a poor excuse to avoid speaking with him, especially when he’s obviously hurting. Luckily, he won’t remember most of the conversation when he wakes up.
“I love you, Abby. Speak soon.”
His voice sounds hurt as he hangs up. As his long-term girlfriend I should feel guilty for making him feel this way, but I feel nothing. I have yet to admit to myself why that is, even though deep down I know.
