Best friend for a reason II
1251 Words
“You’re really serious.”
“Of course I am!”
“No, I mean…” She stood up, walking over to me. “You really didn’t do it.”
“I really didn’t do it.”
She stared at me for another long moment, searching my face for any sign of deception. Then her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh my God, Ivy. Oh my God.”
“What?”
“If you didn’t do it, then someone set you up. Someone went through all that trouble to destroy your life.”
“I know.”
“Who would do that? Who hates you that much?”
“I don’t know.” It was the question that had been eating at me since the moment those photos appeared. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I can’t think of anyone. I don’t have enemies. I don’t have drama. I’m boring, Nat. I work and come home and have dinner with my husband and watch Netflix. Who would want to ruin that?”
Natalie pulled me into a hug, sudden and tight. I nearly collapsed into it, all the tension I’d been holding finally releasing.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered against my hair. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you right away. I should have known better. I should have known you.”
I was crying into her shoulder, ugly sobs that shook my whole body.
“Everyone left me. Everyone.”
“I know. I know, and that’s so f****d up.” She pulled back, holding me by the shoulders.
“But I’m here now. Okay? I believe you. And we’re going to figure out who did this.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet, but we will. We’ll find proof. We’ll get those photos analyzed by an expert or something. And then we’ll shove the truth in everyone’s faces.”
Hope flickered in my chest, although it was fragile and small, but atleast it was there.
“You think we can?”
“Yes, we have to try.” She wiped at her own tears. “And I’ll talk to your parents, and Ethan too. I’ll try to make them listen.”
“Ethan won’t listen to anything. You should have seen him today, Nat. He was so cold, like he has never ever loved me.”
“He’s hurting. Men do stupid s**t when they’re hurting.”
“He threw my stuff on the lawn. He told me if I wasn’t gone by tonight, he’d call the cops.”
“He’s an asshole.” Natalie said it with such conviction that I almost laughed.
“A grade-A asshole. But once we prove those photos were fake, he’ll have to face what he did. They all will.”
I wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that the truth would actually matter, that people would apologize and take back all the horrible things they’d said.
But a part of me, the part that had been growing harder and colder over the last two days, didn’t care anymore, didn’t are if they apologized or not. The damage was already done.
“Come on,” Natalie grabbed her purse from the counter. “Let’s get out of here. You look like you need a drink.”
“I drank last night.”
“So? You can drink tonight too. It’s called coping, and you’ve earned it.”
She had a point.
We ended up at a wine bar three blocks from her apartment. Small and intimate with low lighting and a menu of wines I couldn’t pronounce. Natalie ordered us a bottle of something red and expensive looking.
“I’m basically broke,” I warned her. “I can’t split this.”
“My treat. Consider it as an apology for being a terrible friend.”
“You weren’t terrible.”
“I kind of was.” She poured us both generous glasses. “I should have had your back immediately. Instead I believed what I saw instead of what I knew about you.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not, but thank you for saying that.”
We clinked glasses and drank. The wine was smooth and warm, nothing like the cheap whiskey from last night. This felt like I was still a person who did normal things with friends instead of a person who slept with strangers and got divorced and lost everything.
“So tell me about this apartment,” Natalie said. “Is it really that bad?”
“It’s not bad. It’s just… small, and empty. I’m literally sleeping on the floor.”
“On the floor?”
“I couldn’t afford furniture. All my money went to rent and deposits.”
“Ivy, why didn’t you call me? I could have lent you money.”
“I didn’t think you believed me.”
She looked pained. “Okay, fair. But I’m helping now. Tomorrow we’re going to IKEA and getting you at least a bed and some basic stuff.”
“Nat, I can’t let you…”
“You’re not letting me do anything. I’m doing it because you’re my best friend and you’re sleeping on the f*****g floor.” She refilled our glasses even though we’d barely made a dent in them.
“Besides, I feel guilty. I should have been there for you from the start.”
“You’re here now and that’s what matters.”
We talked for hours, about the photos, the possible suspects, and how we could prove they were fake. Natalie had a friend who worked in digital media who might be able to analyze them. She promised to call my mom tomorrow and try to explain. She even said she’d reach out to Ethan, though I told her not to waste her breath.
By the time we finished the bottle and ordered a second, I felt almost okay. Not happy or fixed, but like maybe I wasn’t completely alone in this nightmare.
Like maybe I had one person who was still on my side.
“Thank you,” I said, a little drunk and a bit emotional. “For believing me, helping me and being here.”
“What are friends for?” Natalie said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “We show up. Even when it’s hard. Even when everyone else has already decided you’re guilty.”
Her hand was warm in mine.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I admitted.
“Good thing you’ll never have to find out.”
We stayed until the bar started closing, stumbling out onto the street giggling about something that probably wasn’t even funny. Natalie called us an Uber, insisting on dropping me off first even though her place was closer.
When the car pulled up to my building, she hugged me tight.
“We’re going to fix this,” she promised. “I swear we are.”
I wanted to believe her so badly.
“Get some sleep,” she said. “ And tomorrow we’ll start fighting back.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
I rode the elevator up to my floor and let myself into my empty apartment. My pile of bedding in the corner looked even more pathetic than before, but I was too tired and too drunk to care.
I collapsed onto it fully clothed and closed my eyes, Natalie’s words echoing in my head.
We’re going to fix this.
- Writer
