The Plan

“I’m sorry.”

Have you ever noticed that when someone apologizes it actually doesn’t fix anything at all? I mean, sure it feels great that they had to lower their pride for a split second to say it but that’s about it.

“Cool,” I said, shrugging and flipping through my magazine. Mike sighed and dropped into the armchair next to the couch. I glanced at him briefly to see him massaging his temples. I looked back down at the latest issue of Glamour, appraising the shoes they had on display.

“Kelly, you can’t stay mad at me forever.”

“Yes I can, and I will.”

“Why?”

At this, I dropped the glossy book into my lap and gave him a skeptical look. If he was really asking that question, I might have to beat his ass. I sighed deeply and shook my head.

“I don’t know why it’s any of your business what goes on between me and Andy, first of all. Second of all, you had no right to say that to him especially since we’re less than a month from tour,” I said indignantly, anger flashing.

“Listen, I said I was sorry.”

“Because you’re sorry, or because Simone told you to say you were sorry?”

I took his silence to mean the latter and rolled my eyes. Being stubborn was my favorite thing to do. I tossed the magazine away from me and got up. As I tried to make a dramatic exit to the office at the end of the apartment, Mike caught my wrist.

“Can you at least let me explain myself?” he asked. I turned to see him standing. I analyzed his face quickly, taking in every detail and then nodded tightly. I continued down the hallway to the room Simone and I used as an office.

Usually it wasn’t as messy as it was now. The small room had boxes stacked from floor to ceiling. The long table that housed the large Mac we used for design had papers and check lists all over it. Mike took a seat in the armchair in front of the computer. I set to work averting my eyes and organizing shirts for tour.

We tried to stagger large shipments like this to make it easier on us but this time, the label hadn’t dished out the correct amount of money and things got complicated. Now Simone and I would be rushing to pack the boxes accordingly. I started folding the small size of tour shirts as Mike started to speak.

“Kelly, please just sit and listen to me.”

“I have a lot of work to do Mike, lots. All for you and your band, so please, I can listen and fold t-shirts,” I said, casting him a tired glance. He nodded. It was silent between us for a moment. Mike was articulate so I gave him a moment to gather his thoughts.

“You know, I don’t even know where to start. You mean so much to me. You’re one of my most trusted friends, we’ve been close for a long time, you’re like a sister to me, shit, you brought me and Simone together”—no one knew about the plan; that was a secret—“I’m scared to death that you’ll get hurt.”

I folded a shirt or two and then looked at him. My heart felt full and happy to hear those words come from his mouth. I leaned against the table and sighed. He was making it difficult to be angry.

“Mike, honestly, I feel the same way about you, I really do. I appreciate that you care about me but the fact is that if I want to make a mistake with someone, you have to let me.”

“Can you just make a mistake with someone that isn’t Andy?” he asked. The expression on his face was adorable though I didn’t miss the underlying seriousness.

“Give me one solid, concrete good reason and Andy and I will never be anything more than friends.”

You know those moments when you say something and it’s like a movie because half a second later you’re proved wrong and the walls just kind of crash down around you? Those moments suck. I hate those moments.

Do you think you have a big mouth? You don’t. I, however, do.

“Not only are you both two great friends of mine that I’d hate to see in pain over a breakup or something, but I can’t punch Andy if he fucks up. And besides the friend card, you also work together. Knowing your temper, we’d have merch that says ‘Andy’s a dumb fuck’ all over it. I think that’s two reasons.”

His flawless logic was a bullet to the brain or something. Separately, each reason was only okay but when he mixed them together, I was forced to realize the exact consequences of my words. I sighed deeply.

“Okay. I promise,” I said. He smiled and finally it reached his eyes. He leaned forward in the chair and nodded.

“You promise what?”

“I promise that Andy and I are only friends and we’ll only ever be friends,” I recited nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders for added emphasis. He grinned and then we locked pinkies, just to make sure.

“Here, let me help you fold some shirts,” he offered and I nodded, moving the box between us. I swallowed harshly and bit my lip to stop myself from crying as he chattered about the tour and how excited he was for it.

It killed me to know that the first promise I would ever break was a promise I made to Mike.