EMILY'S POV
"Anyway, we're talking about you right now, Naomi, not about me and who I hang out with...not that that should matter."
"It does matter, Emily. It certainly matters to me, OK? And you fucking well know that. Don't try to pretend otherwise." She took a deep breath. "But you're right – that's not what we were talking about. OK, then...so, the barbecue." She looked away, running a hand through her hair.
"Christ, Emily, you were in so much pain, and it was killing me seeing you that way. I had promised you that I'd do anything – anything to fix things, and make it right between us. But I didn't know what to do...what could I possibly do that would take away your pain?"
I wouldn't look at her...I just couldn't. I knew if I looked into her eyes, the tears would start. And I'd had enough of crying. So I just stared at the floor, focusing instead on my anger.
"When I announced to everyone what I'd done with Sophia – what I'd done to you – I felt this suffocating sense of shame. But at the same time, there was a small sense of relief. Like I was finally owning up to it. Making amends, you know? At the very least, I thought if I told the truth, then you wouldn't need to pretend with our friends – with your family – that everything was OK. And maybe that would somehow make things a bit easier on you..."
At that I looked up at her. "Oh, right. Pretend that your 'confession' was about making me feel better. Isn't that convenient! You're so fucking full of it, Naomi! You were just trying to make everyone feel sorry for you! 'Poor Naomi! Look how Emily makes her suffer!' You even said it yourself! ThatI was punishing you!!"
"No! Emily, no... please listen. That's not what I meant. I didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me. I just wanted them to know there was a reason for the way you were acting. That you had a right to treat me like shit. I am shit, and I deserved it – but no one else knew that! That's why I told them. Not to make you look bad. To show that I was bad, and deserved everything you did ...everything...and so much more."
Her voice broke at the last, but I wouldn't react. She was pleading with me to understand, and to believe her. And there was a small part of me that wanted to so very badly. But I just couldn't. Naomi had already proven herself to be an adept liar. How could I ever trust her? Fuck, how could I even trust myself, trust my own judgment, when I'd been so wrong putting my faith in her in the first place? I don't know which hurt more – questioning Naomi, or questioning my own instincts. She was to blame, either way. So I steeled myself.
"Look, Naomi – I was at the barbecue, OK, so I don't need to hear your version of events, thanks. Just get to the part where you suddenly decided that it was time to pay Sophia's Mum a visit. So thoughtful , aren't you? Did you bring her flowers...?"
I wouldn't be surprised if my dripping sarcasm left an actual puddle. Well, I had been learning from the best for some time now, hadn't I.
Naomi stared at me with an unreadable expression, and took another deep breath. I knew I was making this difficult for her, but I couldn't withhold this vitriol she continually brought out in me.
"Right. Sophia's Mum." She shook herself and continued. "So, after the barbecue, I figured you might need some space, so I went for a walk. A long walk, as it turned out. I kept thinking about what I'd done, and how I'd hurt you, how I'd hurt Sophia, and how oppressively fucking guilty I felt. I was suffocating from it. And since I hadn't been able to do anything but cause you more pain, I found myself thinking about what I could do to fix the other messes I'd made."
Her head was down, but I caught her looking up at me through her mess of hair. Gauging me for a reaction. I just nodded my consent for her to continue.
"So that's when I really started thinking about Sophia...and her Mum. Because as guilty as I felt for how I'd treated both you and Sophia, it occurred to me how much worse the guilt must be for her Mum. So much worse. Knowing even the little I did about their relationship, I knew she was probably killing herself over a million and one different interactions she'd had with her daughter. Things she'd give anything to take back. Do differently. I knew how awful she must feel. So fucking awful..."
"So, what, you thought you'd go over there and start a fucking pity party? See if maybe she'd forgive you since I wouldn't – and Sophia couldn't...obviously." I knew that was cruel, but it was like I had no control over the bile I was spewing. And I didn't really care, anyway. Sort of...
"No, Emily. That's not it at all. You're not listening. I didn't want Sophia's Mum to forgive me. I was hoping maybe I could get Mrs. Moore to forgive herself. If not for her sake, than for her daughter's. Because I know what it means to hate your Mum, to blame her for your unhappiness. I'd been through that...I'd had desperate thoughts before. And I could just imagine the guilt my Mum would feel if I'd ever done what Sophia did. Emily, you can't even imagine such a feeling. And I just knew that if Sophia could take it back, she would. She wouldn't want to put her Mum – or her brother – through all of that. No matter what had happened between them, I can't believe she would ever want her Mum to feel that way. And I thought that since Sophia wasn't there to fix things, then I owed it to her to try. For her... I owed her at least that much."
Oh my god. This was too much. Too fucking much. Was I now meant to feel more sorry for fucking Sophia? And her Mum? Was their pain now paramount to mine? Naomi was meant to fix me. Not them.
"So, what, Naomi, you went there and she welcomed you with open arms as some surrogate prodigal daughter? Gee, did you she offer you Garibaldi's to go with your tea?" Christ I wanted to just fucking slap her sad face. But then I saw the corners of her mouth quirk upwards...
"No. Actually, when I first told her my name, she responded by slapping the shit out of me." She actually had a small grin when she said this.
"You think it's funny? That she hit you? That what you did to her daughter made her want to hit you?"
"No! No. It's not..it wasn't funny. It's just that in the moment I actually felt somewhat pleased at having such a direct and honest reaction. It made a nice change, you know?" She gave me a pointed look.
"Oh, fuck you, Naomi. You have some fucking ..." Oh, shit. I remembered something...
"Wait. When I got back from having pizza with my family at my old house. I remember that your face – your cheek – was pretty red and swollen." I shook my head with the memory. "I guess I just assumed that it was because Katie or my Mum had ..."
"Jesus, Em, you sound so disappointed! Sorry to burst your bubble, but wrong Mum and wrong daughter. Much as I'm sure Katie or Jenna would have loved to do the honours, I was smacked in defense of Sophia, not you. Guess you'll have to get your own hands dirty if you want that kind of satisfaction."
She was glaring at me. Challenging me. And I felt my blood start to boil. Like actually boil, with bubbles in my veins, and steam coming out of my ears – the works.
"Oh, c'mon, then, Emily...just fucking do it already!"
And I wanted to. Like really-really-REALLY wanted to. I wanted to fucking smash her face in. But I had the sense that as much as I wanted to do it...she wanted it even more. And I just didn't want to give her the satisfaction.
"Oh, come on, Ems! What's the matter? Afraid hitting me will put your status as 'innocent little victim' at risk? Don't worry...it'll be our little secret. Do it! I fucking dare you!"
I looked down and just shook my head. I couldn't go there. I just couldn't. If I did, I didn't know if I'd be able to stop.
"Fuck you, Naomi. I fucking hate you"
"Poor, poor Emily. Needs other people to fight her battles. It's not too late to bring Katie in for this. Shall I call her? Seems like maybe you missed being the doormat after all..."
Fuck! YOU!!
crack!
