The Lunacy Fringe

A little while later, I was sitting on the couch when there was a soft knock from the front door. Quinn popped his head in before I could get up to answer it.

“Hey, can I come in?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course. Dad’s not here, though,” I told him.

“That’s cool.” He plopped down on the couch beside me.

“Whatcha watching?”

“Haven’t settled on anything yet.”

“Boring.” He took a few chips from the plate on the table. “Hey, I actually kind of wanted to talk to you about something.” I stopped mid-chew.

“What?”

“It’s kind of about—Mom,” he said. I let go of a sigh of relief. I wasn’t ready to talk about Felix.

“Okay, what about her?”

“Do you hate her?”

“What? Why would I hate her?”

“Because she wasn’t around for you growing up.”

“Oh—you talked to Billie.” I took another chip and focused on the screen.

“She loves you. You know that, right?”

“I know. It’s just—you understand, don’t you? How long did it take for you to forgive Dad?”

“A while. But when I met him, I realized I’d rather have him around than continue hating him for something that happened a long time ago. So far, he’s proven to me that he regrets it and wants to be part of my life.”

“I don’t hate her. I just—when I trust someone, and they break that trust, I don’t usually forgive them,” I explained. “I understand that what happened in the past wasn’t her fault. But that doesn’t mean I have to forgive everyone else.”

“So that’s why you won’t talk to Felix?” he asked.

“I thought he’d understand too.”

“Maybe he does. Maybe that’s why he didn’t call.”

“I’m sure it was for the best, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to feel hurt. I don’t want to talk to him because I don’t care what he has to say. If he realized that he didn’t like me—then he should have just said something. It’s not that hard to just communicate your feelings with someone. I don’t care what his excuse is.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be. I’m sure you’re pleased as punch about it. You said you didn’t like it from the start. So you don’t have to pretend to be sorry for me,” I snapped.

“I tried to tell you.”

“I know. And I didn’t listen.” He heard my voice catch and seemed momentarily uncomfortable—that or just irritated.

“I’m sorry that you’re in pain,” he said. “But you’re right. I knew it was going to happen. And I can’t hate him for hurting you because all he did was not call. That’s it. You can be angry at him for that. I understand, and I won’t blame you. But honestly—I was expecting much worse.”

“Like what?”

“I was expecting him to try and get down your pants and then break up with you. Either because he didn’t succeed or because he did.” He paused. “He didn’t—right? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t actually want to know.”

“Ugh.”

“I won’t ask you to forgive him.”

“Good, because I’m not going to.”

“But he’s still my best friend, and you’re my sister. And if you guys could just, like—exist in the same space, that would be rad. Because I would hate it if either of you stopped hanging out with us. Can you just do that one thing for me, please?”

“I never said Felix couldn’t come to lunch. I already intended to exist in the same space as him. Just don’t get mad at me if I pretend I can’t see him.”

“Oh, by all means, pretend he has an asshole for a face for all I care.” I shook my head and leaned against the arm of the chair. I wasn’t even sure what channel I’d landed on. Only that I wasn’t prepared to get up and change it.

“You talked to him about it, didn’t you?” I asked after a while.

“About what?”

“Billie’s idea. About being abandoned.”

“Oh—well—yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you were right. He should have known better than to just drop off the face of the earth. He owed you more than that.”

“What did he say?”

“Only that he’s an idiot.” I nodded to agree and went back to the TV.

Over the next few days, Felix and I seemed to develop a pattern of avoiding each other. I went to Music early, but he came late. We never spoke, and Miss Kay (smart enough to sense the tension) never asked us to collaborate again. We only interacted in Music when we did class assignments.

In Economics, he sat at the back, and I sat at the front. And thankfully, we never had to interact in that class at all except to breathe the same air. He sat by Quinn in his usual spot at lunch, doodling in his notebooks, while I sat by Billie. Both of us pretended that the other wasn’t there.

Or at least that’s what I told myself. Because Billie told me one day that he was in the habit of glancing at me when he knew I wasn’t looking. I never looked back to find out for sure. I just wanted him to disappear.