A Friend Like Me

How can you just walk away from me when I all I can do is watch you leave?
'Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain, and even shared the tears
You're the only one who really knew me at all.
Against All Odds - Phil Collins

As rain outside started to pour, turning the snow into slush, my first words (after a few deep breaths) were: “Joe, I – I swear to you, I can explain.”

Joe's eyes bored into me. “Explain then,” he said, adopting a quick, monotone voice not unlike the one he used when I told him James was my boyfriend. “Prague?”

I couldn't look at Joe anymore. I looked at the ground, instead. “I – I submitted an application a long time ago, because my professor recommended that I did, and I thought that I'd never get in – so – so I didn't tell you.” I waited for Joe to say something, but he didn't. All he did was raise his eyebrows at me. “A-And then – Joe, I was going to tell you. I was – just – don't be mad…please.”

“Go on,” Joe said, monotone and abrupt.

“I'm – it's for NYU. It's supposed to – Joe, please, don't be mad. I tried to get out of it, Joe, I really did. It's just – I couldn't.”

“How long have you known?”

“Wh-What?”

“How long have you known, dammit?!” Joe exploded, yelling at me so loudly that I cringed. “How long have you been keeping this from me?!”

I looked up at Joe. “November,” I whispered.

My eyes started to burn and a lump formed at my throat. I fought back the tears. His arms were folded across his chest. He was standing straight and his eyebrows raised when he heard my reply.

“November?” Joe repeated curtly. “November? You've known about this ever since November and you didn't tell me at all?!”

“I – please, Joe! If it – believe me, if it were up to me, I'd –”

“Believe you?” Joe forced a cold laugh. “Why should I believe you when all you've done is lie to me since – since at least November?”

That did it. The tears that I had been holding back spilled over my lower lashes. The rain poured down. The bliss from just this morning, hell, just a few minutes ago had vanished as if they never were, a small light of hope that died away, leaving everything cold.

As if that cloud-nine feeling had never existed in the first place.

“Joe,” I whispered, “please…d-don't do this.”

“God,” Joe spat angrily, “how far away is Prague even?”

I looked down and wiped the tears away with the back of my hand, not daring to answer.

Because the truth is, I do know how far away Prague is from L.A. I know the time difference.

Six thousand miles. Twenty-four hours away by plane. Nine hours ahead (without daylight savings time).

“How far away is Prague?” Joe repeated, an edge to his voice. “You know. I know you do. And the least you can do is answer me.”

“Six thousand miles,” I answered in a small voice, sneaking a look up at him.

“Six thousand? Six thousand?! GODDAM – UGH!” Joe started to pace the room, his hands running madly through his hair. “Having you in New York was bad enough and you have to go and – God, Ava, you're – ugh. I thought that I was – I thought you could tell me anything. Oh my God…and to think that I was actually about to – nevermi – ugh. I can't believe you didn't tell me!”

“I didn't want to hurt you!” I sobbed. “Please, Joe, just – I don't want to fight. Please.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Joe said in a mockingly sweet tone. “What did you want me to do, tell you that I completely understand? Tell you that I completely support you for not telling me that you were going six thousand miles away? Tell you that I'm happy that it's going to take like twelve hours at least to see you – and by plane?”

“Joe…please…” I begged.

I have never begged in my life before, especially with Joe. With him, I always fought back. But this time was different. This time, this morning was still fresh on my mind. Our kisses were still fresh on my mind. It seems foolish to say this, but…I wanted to hold on to them. I was clinging on to it.

“Joe,” I began, “honestly, I –”

“Just shut up, Ava,” Joe snapped. “I don't want to hear anything else from you. I don't want anything to do with you.”

“Please, let's just talk about this. Joe…I'm begging you.”

I reached for him, but he jerked away, saying harshly, “Don't fucking touch me.”

So I stood there, tears still streaming down my face. I don't know how long I stood there. It could've been seconds…but it felt like eons.

“What are you doing?” Joe asked, finally.

“What?”

“Are you really going to Prague? What?”

I hesitated. “I – yes, I'm going. Joe, I have to. My parents already paid for it and – and it's already confirmed –”

“Okay, I get it. You're choosing James.”

“What?! No, no, it's nothing like that!” I cried, but it was too late – Joe was already marching out the door. “Joe – no!”

Joe strode quickly to his room and slammed the door in my face.

“Joe,” I sobbed, leaning into the door, “please, James has nothing to do with this, I swear.”

I waited there, begging him to understand. When he came out, however, he stormed out of his bedroom, dragging a suitcase behind him.

“Joe,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Don't go.”

“No, that's your job,” Joe retorted, looking into my eyes. “Do you know what hurts the most about this? I'm your best friend. Your best friend and you didn't even tell me about this. You didn't tell me that you're going six thousand miles away. Ava, how the hell was I not the first person you told?! How did you do that? How did you manage to not tell me that you were going practically across the world? What's wrong with you?”

“I didn't want you to be upset. You were so happy and everything was so perfect….”

Wrenching his arm away from me, Joe stormed down the stairs without another word.

“Joe, no – please – don't go, Joe, please, don't go,” I pleaded.

But I heard Nick, downstairs, say, “Dude, where are you going?” and the slam of the entrance door.

I sprinted down the stairs, two steps at a time, and, pulling on boots and the first coat I could find, rushed out the door. By the time I got out of the house, Joe was driving away.

“Joe, no!” I yelled hopelessly, running after the car. “Come back!”

I sprinted as hard as I could after him, but he was too fast. Soon, I was left wandering around the snow-covered, rainy Dallas streets. I dragged my feet in the snow, weakly calling out “Joe!” in the streets, hoping that he'd turn up. Hoping that he'd pull me in his warm embrace like he used to and tell me that he understood.

But he didn't.

And I hoped, that against all odds, that I was dreaming all this, that this was a sign from God or something that I should tell him soon. Because if it is, I swear, the minute I wake up, I'll tell Joe everything.

But it wasn't.

My boots were soaked through and my feet were freezing. The combination of the rain and the cold winter air made it unbearably cold. I clutched my coat, also damp, around me more tightly, even though that didn't do anything to help.

And the worst part was, for me, that Joe and I were so close. We were almost there. We were on the edge of the boundary separating best friends and dating. But a secret pushed us away from there, pushed us even farther than before. Now, we were…I don't even know what.

Joe wanted nothing to do with me.

And, even though an hour hasn't even passed, I missed him.

It was after a concert in London and Joe was on a post-concert high.

“Hey, Summers,” Joe said, strolling into his dressing room, where I was working.

I ignored him.

“Oh, come on. Are you still mad at me for last night?”

“Yes,” I muttered.

Because last night, Joe decided to “accidentally” run into James and I every time we were alone.

“It was an accident!” Joe said, his jaw moving to the side again. “I needed to go to the bathroom. Their food was very…bathroom inducing.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh, shutting my laptop and setting it down on the coffee table in front of me. “Shut up. And go away. You smell like sweat.” I looked at him leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows raised.

Except he was wearing the black wife-beater that he usually wears for the second half of concerts. You know, the one that shows off all his muscles.

Smiling, Joe sat down next to me. “Really.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Now seriously, take a shower.”

Joe raised his arms. “C'mere.” When I shook my head, he threw an arm around my shoulders, then wrapped the other around me, pulling me toward him.

I giggled. “Joe, stop!” I tried to wriggle out of his arms, but he leaned back into the couch, pulling me with him. I leaned forward, trying to escape him. I jerked him off of me, but either I underestimated my strength or Joe was being his operatic self again: Joe was thrown off of the couch and onto the ground, landing face down.

Oops.

He didn't move and I was starting to become worried.

“Joe?” I called, scooting to the edge of the couch, peering down at him. “Are you okay?”

“BAHH!” he yelled, leaping up and throwing himself at me.

I shrieked as he tacked me down onto the couch. His arms went around me again and we both fell down onto the couch, Joe's cheek pressed against my shoulder.

“Joe, this – this – is – disgusting!” I laughed. “Stop hugging me and take a shower!”

Joe, in response, squeezed me tighter and said, “Love you, BFF!”

Which send me into another fit of giggles.

“Ahh, okay, Joe, seriously. Get off. Sweat is disgusting.”

“Actually, I'm not that sweaty anymore. I think it rubbed off on you…..”

“Um. Okay. Gross. Joe, seriously, get off.”

By the time I managed to return back to the house, I managed to stop crying. Nick was hanging up the phone, looking frustrated. Kevin and Danielle were sitting on the couch, anxious. I pushed the sopping wet hair out of my face, kicking my shoes off.

“He – he's gone! L-Left! Drove off!”

I sunk down into a chair and curled up. I started into a fresh new set of tears. “He doesn't – he doesn't want any-anything to do with me anymore.”

I felt a blanket cover me and, looking up, I saw Danielle looking at me worriedly.

“I'll call him,” Kevin offered.

“I already tried that,” said Nick.

Kevin, however, still tried, only to hang up, saying, “He wouldn't pick up.”

“What even happened?” asked Nick.

“He found out,” I answered quietly.

{∞∞∞}

The next few days, I stayed in bed. I refused meals. I listened to So Close over and over again, even though it didn't help.

“Ava,” Mrs. Jonas said, coming into the room when my mom left after I refused to eat (again), “you need to eat.”

“I'm not hungry,” I said. “Anything from him yet?”

Even though I didn't speak Joe's name, she knew who I was talking about. She shook her head sadly. “No. He hasn't called anyone we know. Nobody's seen him.”

Figures.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys earlier,” I mumbled.

And I'm sorry that I didn't tell Joe earlier.

Mrs. Jonas sat down on the edge of the bed. “It's fine. We understand. Now come on, eat.”

I sniffled. “Fine. I'll be down in a minute or two.”

When she left, I pulled my laptop toward me. Seeing that I had a new email, I clicked on it.

It was an email from Katelyn Sage with one single sentence:

I told you you'd regret it.

And it was followed by, first, pictures of Joe leaving Camilla's house with a stupid smile on his face and slightly disheveled hair.

Alright.

But then came the next set of pictures as I scrolled down. Joe's texts to Camilla, saying, “Last night was amazing” or “I don't regret it.”

My jaw dropped. And I instantly felt worse, which I thought wasn't possible. I felt like someone whose best friend broke a promise they made, saying that they'd “remain pure until marriage.”

Oh wait, that's exactly what happened to me.

I scrolled down, thinking it was the document. I was wrong. Pictures of Joe kissing Demi took up the screen. And they were recent – I could tell.

The pictures, although they were just on a screen, pierced me like scalding knives. Confusion swept through me, then dejection.

I thought that kiss meant something to Joe. I thought that those two days of euphoria meant something to him. I thought that I meant something to him.

I guess not. I guess I'm just one of those girls to him now – you know the kind. I'm just one of those girls now, the one who he's kissed, dated. The ones that don't mean anything to him anymore.

A flavor of the month.

Just like that, I dissolved into tears again.

“Hon, your food's ready,” my mom said, peeking into the guest room. When she saw me, however, she tentatively walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. “What's wrong?”

Sitting up, I buried my head in her shoulder. “I want my best friend back.”

And that's all I wanted. Not the Joe who kissed me, only to kiss someone else in the span of a few days. Not the Joe who keeps shooting arrows into my heart. Not the Joe who didn't want anything to do with me.

The Joe who's been my best friend for seventeen years.

{∞∞∞}

December 31, 2009.

Just two weeks ago, I promised to myself that I'd tell Joe everything by today. Just two weeks ago, I thought that I would have told Joe everything. Just two weeks ago, I thought that everything would be alright, not the mess it was right now.

I never thought that everything would blow up in my face and I never thought about Katelyn Sage and what news she would email me.

God. It's just…I can't believe he slept with Camilla freaking Belle and didn't even tell me. And then he goes off and kisses Demi. I don't even know what to think anymore.

All I know is that Joe's hypocrisy is abhorrent and infelicitous. And I'm tired of him.

But I miss him all the same. Did that make sense?

I hate it when things don't make sense.

Nick barged into my room. “You coming down?”

I shook my head. “Later.”

Instead of leaving, Nick sat down next to me on Joe's bed. “Cheer up. Now come on, come down. He'll probably come. I mean, this is his house and he's been planning this New Year's party for a while now.”

“I want him back.”

“I know.”

“But…I just want my best friend back. I don't want the guy who kept secrets from me or the guy who I kept secrets from.”

“I know.”

I sighed. “Okay. I promise I'll come down there in a few minutes.”

As soon as Nick left, I got up. I can do this. I can live life without Joe. I don’t need him in my life. I’m not one of those girls that need a guy in their lives to satisfy themselves. I’m not dependent on Joe.

But the problem is, Joe’s not only some guy I’m in love with. He’s also the best friend I’ve had for seventeen years. Almost eighteen, even.

I sat back down.

However, not long after I sat down, Nick, looking excited, burst into the room again. The door slammed open in his excitement.

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Stepping aside, he revealed Joe, who, as soon as he saw me, smiled hopefully at me and raised his arms, inviting me into an embrace.