The Shape of Silence

Chapter Nine: Ivy

The sharp honk outside her apartment didn’t sound like it belonged in this part of town. Ivy peered through the window, blinking at the blinding shimmer of a pink Audi convertible with fluffy dice dangling from the rear-view and glittery decals outlining the windshield like some kind of high-sugar fever dream. Allie leaned across the passenger seat and waved enthusiastically.

“She’s here,” Ivy muttered.

Arden laughed inside her head. You’ve been kidnapped by a Lisa Frank catalog. Gods help us.

She grabbed her bag and headed down the stairs, her boots thudding against the steps. The sun caught the metallic sheen of the car as she approached, and Allie squealed. “Happy early birthday, babe! Get in, we have so much to do!”

Ivy slid into the passenger seat carefully, praying the vinyl wouldn’t burn her thighs through her jeans. The interior looked like an explosion of cotton candy—pink steering wheel cover, white faux fur draped over the headrests, rhinestones on the dashboard that Ivy was sure would become projectiles if the airbags ever deployed.

“I feel like I’m going to get glitter poisoning,” she said dryly. “You’ve added more sparkle since last time I was in your car.”

Allie just grinned. “Please, you wish you had my taste.” She revved the engine, unnecessarily loud, and peeled away from the curb. “So. Guess what Jeremy gave me last night.”

Ivy blinked. “Uh… a disease?”

“No!” Allie shrieked, laughing. “No, he gave me a promise ring.” She held up her left hand, where a delicate gold band with a single cubic zirconia sparkled under the sunlight. “Cute, right? But also like… really?”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “You sound underwhelmed.” She wasn’t too surprised, Allie always wanted the best of the best, and a promise ring seemed far from the real deal.

“I am underwhelmed,” Allie said, turning the corner with one hand on the wheel like she was in a movie. “He keeps saying he’s serious, that I’m ‘the one,’ blah blah—but if you’re really serious, you bring diamonds. Not a glorified high school token.”

Ivy chuckled, despite herself. Yep, there it was. “You are a romantic,” she teased.

“I am a realist,” Allie corrected. “And realists want commitment they can put insurance on.”

They rode in silence for a moment, the wind pulling at Ivy’s hair and Allie humming to the pop music blasting from the speakers.

“My brother’s flying in this weekend,” she added casually. “Back from his business trip.”

“Where was he again?” Ivy asked, trying to remember.

“Somewhere in Europe. Or maybe Singapore this time? I lose track.” She waved her hand like it didn’t matter. “It’s family stuff. I don’t get involved. Too serious for me.”

Ivy nodded but didn’t press. Allie never talked much about her brother’s work. Or her dad’s. Or her mom’s, unless it involved helping at weddings. They always just referred to it as “the family business,” like it was some old mob movie cliché.

Allie perked up again. “Anyway! The wedding stuff is actually coming together. You wouldn’t believe the drama we had with the roses—finding the right shade of white was a nightmare. But now? Perfection.”

Ivy smiled faintly. “Glad it’s working out.”

“Totally. Still so much to do, though. But my cousin Chasity is loaded—we’re talking custom ice sculpture and maybe even a dove release. I’m dying. Can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Allie kept talking, her voice a steady stream of drama and wedding terminology, half of which Ivy didn’t understand. Ribbon swatches. Menu cards. Guest lists. Things that felt like props in someone else’s life.

Ivy leaned her head back against the seat, letting the words pass through her like smoke. Her fingers curled into the material of her worn jeans, the stiff material grounding herself in something real. The sunlight made everything in the car look too bright, too glossy. It was hard to hold onto anything solid in a world that glittered so easily.

She’s not a great friend, Arden said quietly in her mind, her voice dry but not unkind.

I know, but she used to be, Ivy thought back. Her free hand rising to the open window, catching the wind between her fingers.

She’s not even a good friend. Arden continued, All she does is talk about her, today is supposed to be about you.

Ivy bit the inside of her cheek. The ache in her chest didn’t go away, but it didn’t get worse either. Just sat there, like it always did. A little knot of want, of loneliness, of old disappointment worn down smooth from overuse.

She’s the only one, she reminded Arden, and herself.

I know, Arden replied. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve better.

The words echoed too close to her ribs. Ivy stared ahead at the other cars and bleak buildings, blinking away the sting that crept up her eyes. The ache of wanting something more than a fair-weathered friend. She’s stopped looking for other friends long ago, settling with the only person who would sometimes, maybe, give her the time of day.

Allie didn’t mean to be thoughtless. She was just busy, wrapped up in her own orbit. People like her didn’t look down, didn’t notice the people standing still.

But still, Ivy considered her a friend. They’d been friends for nearly twelve years now, if nothing else, they had the history. And Allie hadn’t always been this self-centered. Maybe if Ivy held on a bit longer, the person she’d became friends with would come back.

And that was something she didn’t want to let go of.