The Pact(98)

I feel like I’m being coated in tar, I am that disgusted. “That’s horrible,” I tell him, inching away from him and toward the window. “Seriously, that is a fucking asshole thing to do.”

His eyes are bright, almost feverish in the cabin lights. “I know it is. I was horrible. I am an asshole. I was the man I was accusing him of becoming. And I ruined all of our relationships with each other. But most of all, I ruined what the two of you had. Something I always wanted. And I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

“So you’re going to New York because you’re sorry?”

“I’m going to New York because I need to say I’m sorry. After learning we almost lost him today, I need to tell him in person. I’m so fucking sorry. And I love him and I miss him. And I just want my friend back.”

As much as I kind of hate James at the moment, I see a tear roll down his face and suddenly I’m coming a bit undone myself. He fucked up, majorly. But he’s sincere. And he’s hurting as much as I am.

He quickly wipes away a tear, looking a tad ashamed and says, “And most of all, I want to see him with you again. You two belong together. More than anything else, it should be you and him.”

I sigh sadly and lean back in my seat. “Yeah. But he could have fought for me, you know? He didn’t.”

“I don’t think Linden knows what fighting is,” he says.

“Maybe not. Maybe he does. But I think I deserve that. Someone to fight for me. To believe in me. And trust in love. Sounds cheesy but…once you have love, you have to trust in it. I don’t think he knows that but I think I need someone who does.”

He’s nodding. “Yeah. I understand. Look…I know saying sorry isn’t going to fix things. But I’m going to try. I know what I did was horrible and selfish and I was just so angry of being…of being nothing compared to him.”

“But you know that’s not Linden’s fault,” I point out. “That’s coming from inside you, not him. He has been a good friend. Maybe not the best at times, but nothing is so black and white. Life is grey. Love is grey. He just…I loved him, James. I still do. And I like to think that he at least tried to love me the best he could. He honestly never wanted to hurt you. You were always on his mind, you were always what he worried about. He’s tried really hard to be a good friend to you but we all fuck up at some point and have to make hard choices.”

He sucks on his bottom lip but doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighs pitifully. “I know. I feel like such a…a…”

“Big fucking baby?” I supply.

He gives me a little smile. “You know I always lament the fact that I had to grow up so fast but…I’m not sure that I did.”

I can’t argue with him there but I throw him a little bone. “I guess sometimes as you get older, your friendships don’t evolve like they should.” I should add, don’t be too hard on yourself but I want him to be hard on himself. I guess I can be a bit immature too.

“What a fucking mess,” he says.

“Yeah. What a fucking mess.”



***



Somehow, and I don’t know how, I do manage to sleep for an hour or two because when the wheels hit the tarmac at JFK, I’m jolted awake. And then I’m reminded of where I am, who I’m with, and who we are going to see.

Linden. My heart squeezes at the thought of him, lying in the hospital bed. I wonder if his parents are there – his brother did call James, which was a good sign – but I know they won’t be giving him the love and support he needs. I wonder how scared he was when it happened, how it happened, if he’s permanently damaged. I wonder if he’ll want to see me, see James. I wonder if this is the start of a second chance or just the final way to say goodbye.

Once we’ve landed, James is already texting Bram. He gives me a small, hopeful smile as we gather our bags and step into the aisle. “Are you ready?” he asks.

I nod. He briefly grabs my hand and holds it for a moment, but it’s friendly. It’s comforting. It gives me a little bit of strength.

It’s weird to suddenly be in Manhattan. The iconic skyscrapers, streets that look like tunnels because they go on forever, the vibrancy and life of the place. I’ve been once before with Kayla for a girl’s weekend, but it wasn’t enough. I still love San Francisco to death but if there’s any city that could compete for space in my heart, it’s New York.

The cab we caught pulls up in front of a brick hospital and we clamber out. I only packed for overnight, so my bag is light and easy to carry. We wait outside for a moment as James texts Bram again to tell him we’re here, freezing our asses off. March in New York and March in San Francisco are very different beasts.