Sarah pulled down her heart-shaped sunglasses, simultaneously raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow. Her red lipgloss shone with a strong glare in the light, and an astute observer may have noticed a slight trembling that revealed a volatile combination of anger and confusion. Sarah was an expert at keeping a great poker face.
“What do you mean, Mercy ran off with Jared?” “I mean that they ran off. What else do you want me to say?” “I mean, how? How long has this been going on?”
I paused briefly, contemplating what I should and shouldn’t tell her. I am a firm believer that women should always know what’s going on behind their back, and I was ashamed to admit that I had facilitated a situation where she was the last to know. It’s a shitty feeling; one that is sadly familiar to me, and endlessly frustrating. I shook off my most selfish motivations, bracing myself for the impending storm.
.JPG)
LA / October 2017
“Mercy and Jared have been a thing for a while now. I don’t know when it started. Maybe when you two were together. At the very least, I saw them together at the movies about a week after you broke up, holding hands. I was sitting behind them; I don’t think they saw me. Seemed pretty fast to me to have only been going on for less than a week.” “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me!?” “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Sarah. I’ve been a shit friend. I know it. This one has been killing me.” “Good. It should be. You are a shit friend.”
Sarah paused for a minute, her breath shaky with righteous indignation. She let out a rare apology. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. But that fucker is going to pay for this.”
I ran through the possibilities in my head of what exactly that “payment” might be.