The Fundamentals of Friendship Pt. 03

"The point of letting him know you loved him enough to shoulder all that pain by yourself so that he wouldn't have to feel it. The point to let him know you've always loved him, Laura. That point."

"I think we're way past that."

"God you're so stubborn, Laura," Sophia said. "I think he would forgive you even if you killed his dog. He loves you enough to forgive you. He would understand why you never told him."

I couldn't agree with her. "He wouldn't forgive me. Especially if I told him the truth after all this time. He wouldn't forgive the secret. The lies. And he doesn't have a dog."

"Honey, it wasn't your fault."

I hugged my sister to let her know how much I loved her for saying that to me. Even if I didn't believe her.

"Sophia! Let's go, babe!" Todd shouted from downstairs.

"Coming!" Sophia shouted back, pulling away from me. "Men. They're all the same. Black or white they don't have any patience." She stood up, took a whirl in front of me. "Now, how do I look?"

I rolled my eyes at her, though she looked stunning as usual. "Like a harlot."

"Perfect." She beamed. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She took both my hands in hers. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Riley, Lo."

"What is that?"

"You still have time."

***

ROCCO came back a week after my talk with Sophia. He acted as though we'd never argued in our lives and I, too tired and sad to start another fight, went along with him. We were in need of a good talk, but I played at pretending. Pretending everything was perfect with us, with me. He asked me if I was well, I told him "Yes, I am," and he believed me.

I had hoped, with Rocco's return, I'd feel better. Less alone. Yet, I still felt like an important part of me was missing. Like a ghost limb, it wasn't there but it hurt. I couldn't hide my poor state of mind from Rocco though, and he didn't seem to know what to do with me so he did nothing. Instead he looked for things to distract me like nice dinners, good wine, long conversations, and more attentive sex.

I was spending more time than I usually did at the Bistro. Last night I woke up with a sense of foreboding I couldn't shake. I opened the Bistro an hour earlier and I was still working way past closing time, kneading dough for the next day. Anxiety was killing me. I couldn't stop thinking about the date I would have with Riley. Anticipating any discussions that might ensue if any of us said the wrong words.

I let my bowls of dough to rise and went on my usual inspection of the Bistro -turning off all the lights, checking the gas on the stoves, locking all the doors- when my phone started ringing. Florence's name flashing on the screen.

"Aunt Flo?"

"Laura." It was clear by her nasal tone of voice that she'd been crying.

My blood froze in my veins instantly. "What is it? Are you ok?"

"Dear..."

Never, in all my life, I've seen Florence at a loss for words. I could only think of one thing that would make that woman's balance off.

"What happened, Florence?"

I could hear her sobs from the other side of the phone line. "It's Riley. He's had an accident. He's at the hospital."

My heart stopped. I held on to the edge of one of the Bistro's tables so my knees wouldn't give in under me. For a second there, everything went black.

"Laura?"

"Which hospital?"

I was out and hailing for a cab on the sidewalk before I even checked if I'd locked the Bistro's front door.

***

MY HURRIED footsteps echoed in the too clean too bright hospital floor. I barely registered the people in the trauma room as I passed, searching. I heard his voice before I saw him. I pulled a curtain so hard I almost ripped it from the rails.

Riley was lying on one of the hospital beds. He had a smile half formed on his lips, a nurse tending to the needles on his right arm while his left was bent, close to his chest, supported by a sling.

"Ells." He smiled at me, surprised, as though he'd never expected to see me there.

My whole body started to shake. The solid floor under my feet seemed to soften, about to suck me in. Before I could catch myself I was by his side, my hands clutching at his naked back through the slit on the hospital robe he wore. "You stupid idiot! Stupid, stupid idiot Riley!"

I pressed my ear to his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart. It worked hard and strong. Its percussion assuring me Riley was well and whole. I pressed my eyes closed to hold back the tears, but they were stronger than me. They burst past my closed eyelids, running warm and stubborn down my cheeks. Only after I was certain Riley's heart was pumping blood through him, I lifted my face to his. My shaky hands touched him to certify myself he was in one piece. Fingers going fast over his chest, his face, looking for something broken or out of its right place. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Riley's dark eyes were wide. "I'm fine, Ells. I'm fine." He brushed my cheek with his right hand, smearing it with my tears. "It was nothing. Just a sprained wrist." He looked pointedly to the arm on the sling hanging from his neck.

Even seeing he was perfectly fine, I kept touching him. Arms, hands. His elbows were scraped. There was a purplish bruise on his left eye. Another on his forehead. "What is wrong with you, you idiot?!" I rebuked him, putting a gentle hand to his hurt arm. I couldn't take my hands off of him, I couldn't bring myself to stop because I was afraid he'd disappear, that something could happen if I took my eyes away from him for even a second. "Are you crazy? Your mother said you fought the guy! Are you insane, Riley?"

"He tried to take my computer," he said, exasperated. "My whole life is in that computer, Ells!"

I stared at him, stupefied. It was a ten-minute drive from the bistro to the hospital. Even though Florence had told me he was alright, nothing more than a sprained wrist, I couldn't stop my mind from running through every possible scenario where Riley was gone from our lives. I saw myself without him regretting words I never said, things we never did, truths I never revealed.

I hit my palm on his chest, not caring if I hurt him. "Your whole life is here! Right here!" I yelled at him. "What if something had happened to you, uh? Did you stop to think what it would do to your mother? What it would do to me?"

"Miss, if you hit the patient again I'll be forced to ask you to leave." The nurse I'd momentarily forgotten was there suddenly, inserted between Riley and me like a barrier.

She was young and pretty. Red short hair neatly tied back. I frowned at her. I was only faintly aware of how hysterical I must seem. The sound of Riley's laughter tore my eyes away from the serious looking nurse. "It's okay, June," he said to her, a charming smile on his lips. "She's my best friend."

The nurse, June, looked from him to me suspiciously. "Okay," she said to Riley with too much familiarity for someone who's known him for only a couple of hours. "If you need me, just press the button. And you," she turned to me, eyes murderous "don't hit him again."

I opened my mouth to tell her I could hit him all I wanted, but Riley put a soothing hand to my arm and the nurse left. "Nurse June, uh?"

He smirked. "Don't be jealous. You're still my favorite girl."

I laughed, then the laughter turned into sobs. Riley opened his one good arm inviting me back to him. I settled beside him on the narrow hospital bed. He smelled like laundry soap. "You scared the shit out of me, Ry. What if something had happened to you? What then, you careless idiot?"

He kissed the top of my head. "It's okay, Ells. I'm okay."

"You could've really hurt yourself. What if the guy had a gun?"

"He didn't." Riley took my hand and put it on his chest, right over his beating heart. "You feel it? I'm right here. I'm fine, Ells. Just fine."

"If you ever do anything like this again I'll kill you myself."

I lay next to him in silence, counting the fast pacing thumps his heart made, willing my own heartbeats to slow down. He was too warm, but he felt so good, so there with me. Solid as a rock. I closed my eyes and thanked God a million times for keeping Riley safe.

I heard a smile from deep inside him, rumbling in his ribcage. "What?" I asked looking up at him.

"Nothing. It's just...It's nice to have you so worried about me. Makes me feel really good."

"Idiot."

"I'm sorry I worried you, Ells."

"I love you, you know" I mumbled against the bad arm hanging from the sling.

"I know you do, Ells. And I love you too," he said and it felt, for the first time in a while, that we meant the same thing.

***

I FELL asleep on the hospital narrow bed by Riley's side. Only an hour later, when Florence came back to the room did I wake up. She waltzed in like a Spring breeze, smelling of lavender and cinnamon. All long, whitish hair and billowing skirt.

Riley's mother was one of my favorite people on earth. She was sixty something, but such a young spirit I never knew her real age. She'd adopted him when he was a baby and, after we became friends, I felt like she'd adopted me too.

"Go home, child. It's late. He'll be discharged soon," she said, giving some great smelling coffee.

"Thanks. I think I'll wait."

"Laura." Florence had eyes just as dark and eerie as Riley did, even though she wasn't his biological mother. "He's okay. You look like you're not. Go home and rest. And come by sometime, will you? I miss you."

"Yeah, Ells," Riley said from his bed. "I promise you I'm okay. Go home. Please. You need some rest. I'll call when they let me go."

If I had the strength I would argue with them and stay, but I was tired and there were five missed calls from Rocco on my phone already. I'd only texted him to say I'd be late, but nothing more than that.

I hugged aunt Florence goodbye and gave Riley a chaste kiss. "You sure you're okay?" I asked just one more time, just to be sure.

He gave a tender look, and I got that funny feeling, those cold butterflies in my stomach I always got whenever he looked at me for too long. "I've never been better."

***

WHEN I got home it was something close to four in the morning. I tiptoed my way into the house to avoid the risk of waking Rocco up. My efforts to be stealthy were in vain, though. Rocco was wide awake, sitting on a stool by the kitchen balcony.

"Oh, you're still up?"

He took a sip from something that seemed like whisky. "How's Riley?" He asked acridly, without sparing me a glance.

He seemed tired, the muscles on his face drawn tight against his skull. He was upset. Rightly so, I realized. "He's okay," I said. "Who told you?" As soon as I heard the words Riley and hospital in the same sentence, I couldn't process anything else. It's a miracle I even managed to send Rocco a text to let him know I'd be late.

"I called Clementine when you wouldn't answer any of my calls."

I sucked in a breath. The atmosphere suddenly tensed under the yellow lights of my kitchen. I was in the wrong. I couldn't even complain about him being upset with me. "Rocco, I'm so sorry. I was so worried about Ry, I didn't have the mind the think of anything else," I said being honest for once.

He finally turned to look at me. I wished he hadn't. His green eyes were cold enough to give me goose bumps. "You could've told me you where you were going."

"I texted you," I said in a pitiful attempt to defend myself.

"You texted 'I'll be late' five hours ago. Laura," he spat, raising his voice. I fought a shiver at his harsh tone.

"Rocco..." I was so wrong there weren't enough words to make up for it. "I'm sorry. I fucked up."

He got to his feet and stood towering over me. "You could've called me at least. I was worried about you," he said, exasperated. "Dio mio, the guy sprained his wrist, Laura. It wasn't anything so serious that you needed to-"

"Rocco!" I interrupted him. "Something could've happened to him." My voice was as loud as his. I was wrong in not letting him know where I was, whether I was okay or not, but he couldn't guilt me into feeling bad for worrying over my best friend.

"Nothing happened to him."

"What if he'd been hurt?" I yelled. "If Riley had been hurt, I couldn't-" I clamped my mouth shut. I didn't dare voice any of the negative thoughts that were still clinging to me. I wished I could've explained to Rocco hoe devastating the idea of not having Ry in my life was. The void he'd leave behind. What if something had happened? What if I'd lost him? I still had so much to tell him. So much I need to tell him. "He's my best friend, Rocco."

"You love him," he deadpanned.

My eyes bulged. "Rocco, don't. I..." I found I couldn't deny his statement. It wouldn't be true to say I didn't love Ry.

"You love him," he said again.

I shook my head, tongue heavy in my mouth. I didn't know what to say to Rocco. I didn't know what he wanted me to say. I eyed Rocco pleadingly, desperate to make him understand. "I could've lost him today, Rocco. Don't you see that?"

Rocco shook his head, looking at me as though I were being irrational. "You love him, Bella." His voice so soft when he said it for the third time.

"Yes. I do." I admitted. I heard the truth of my own words, saw hurt flash, momentarily, in Rocco's eyes.

Rocco chuckled, turning his back on me. "I knew it. I don't even know why I'm surprised."

I braced myself for his reaction. Anger. Something. Nothing. He was calm, collected. "Rocco..."

"This isn't working. Look at you, Bella." He waved a hand up and down my body. "You're unhappy, you've lost weight...You're withering away with me."

"No, Rocco." I rushed to him, took him hand in mine. Our relationship might be crumbling apart but it wasn't all his fault. I couldn't let him think there'd been no good in us. "You've been nothing but wonderful to me."

He tightened his grip on my hand. "Do you want to be with me or with him? Be honest," he asked. His eyes burrowed deeply into mine. I couldn't lie to him anymore.

"I don't know what I want," I said. I expected that twist in gut that accompanied my lies. Nothing came.

"I can't wait for you to decide, Bella," he said, dropping my hand. It fell limp by my side.

I knew it'd come to this. I'd been avoiding it. Fudging the issue. I met Rocco when I was trying to hide from the mess I was making with the no-strings-attached sexual relationship I had with Ry. I felt like I'd used him as a Band-Aid. He deserved better. We both did.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Rocco." The one doing the hurting always says that. But I meant it. I didn't want to hurt him. I wanted him to be happy. I was only sorry I couldn't be the one to do it. "I'm sorry, Rocco. You're the perfect man. But I don't think I'm good for perfect." I had nothing, just clichés that wouldn't make him feel better. Wouldn't sooth his hurt ride. He was being rejected after all.

Rocco made his way into the living room without saying anything. I followed him to the door. I watched, in silence, as he shrugged on his jacket. There was a lump in my throat I couldn't swallow down. He was leaving, and there was nothing I could do to make things easier on either of us. He turned to me. "I wish you the best, Bella. You deserve it," he said. Then he gave me his back and walked out door. Just like that.

I waited to feel something. His loss, maybe.

I felt nothing.

***

I FINALLY learned Florence's real age when her birthday arrived. This year she broke her no candles rule. She was turning 66 and had asked me for two candles. "Six is my lucky number," she'd said.

Her backyard was packed with people. She was such a warm, loving person it was no surprise to see she had so many friends. Even so, it seemed they had multiplied since last year. There had to be at least a hundred people in her house. I was sitting on a bench under Florence's old pergola , sipping some fruit punch, when Riley found me.

When I arrived, earlier with the cake in hands, he wasn't there yet. In fact, I hadn't seen him in a week. He looked good, fresh and healthy. He was wearing a blue shirt I'd given him a couple of years ago for his own birthday. It was a bit faded now. Its original color bleached by too many washings. I knew he loved that shirt. Loved it enough to wear it to his mother's party, even though it wasn't so new anymore. He sat by my side, a knowing smirk on his face. The scent of his aftershave hit me right away.

"How's your wrist?" I asked, trying to evade him. I knew just what that look on his face meant.

He rolled his left hand, making some joints crack. "I hardly feel anything."

"That's great." I watched with the corner of my eye. My chest tightened at the memory of him at that hospital. "You scared the living daylights out of me, you know."

His dark eyes narrowed. "Are you doing that thing where you try to put me on the spotlight so I don't ask what's up with you?"

I hadn't told about the break up yet. I was afraid of what it would change once he knew. "No, I don't think I'm doing that," I said, biting back a smile.

"I think you are, though."

"You would."

He nudged me on the ribs. "Spill it."

I sighed. I'd been wanting to talk to him for days, always finding an excuse not to. It was about time I stopped being such a coward. "Rocco left a week ago," I blurted.

Ry tried to keep his expression impassive, but I knew him. Rocco's name stung him. "When he's due back?" He asked, looking away.

I frowned. Riley clearly misunderstood me. He thought I meant Rocco had gone away temporally again. "He's not coming back, Ry," I said. His face snapped back to mine. "We broke up. Two weeks ago."

His brows almost touched his hair line, so big his eyes got. "Broke up?"

"Yep." I knew telling him Rocco was gone would shift something between us.

"So, you-"

"Oh, Riley, dear!" We both startled at the familiar high pitched voice.

A plump, blond headed figure was coming our way. "Oh shit, it's Mrs. Nicholson!" I said, horrified. Mrs. Nicholson was the most obnoxious woman I had ever met in my life. I was in no mood to deal with her. "She's coming over here. Shit. Bye, Ry."

I got up, but Riley grabbed me by my shirt. "Don't leave me alone with her, Ells!" He asked me, eyes wide in panic.

"Ry, I love you. But I can't do this for you. Sorry." I yanked my shirt from his hold and sneaked behind some bushes. There was no way I'd stay to hear that woman call me Laurie and say Riley and I made a beautiful couple.

"Traitor!" He hissed.

I was still close enough to hear Mrs. Nicholson saying to him "Oh, look at you! Such a handsome man!"

***

I TURNED ON the switch and gasped in surprise as the yellow light flooded the basement. Riley's old room was faultlessly the exact same way I remembered it. Being there was like stepping through time, back to the late 90's. The place was meticulously tidy. Nothing was out of place, although it didn't smell the same. It used to smell more of him. Now it just smelled faintly of mothballs and wood furniture polish.

There was a certain nimbus about that room that evoked a sense of comfort and security in me, calling me back to days I'd been revisiting frequently.

Riley's old typewriter still sat at its place, on the center of his desk. His lava lamp was stationed at his nightstand right beside a picture of us as reckless teenagers. His Ella Fitzgerald's poster proudly decorated the wall, right above his bed. Then there was the old record player.

I remembered those blissful evenings after school. We'd go back to his house; I'd lie on his bed. He would be exhausted after his swimming practice. I'd listen to some of his mother's old vinyl records I liked so much. To Joan Baez or Leonard Cohen's resonant voices sing of melancholy while Riley slept with his head resting on my stomach, my fingers fondling his hair. The weight of his head would make breathing laborious yet I'd rather have the solidity of him than sufficient air in my lungs. In those moments, when he was so close and everything around me was him and his possessions, I felt like I loved him so much my heart couldn't physically take it as the dramatic teenager I was.