Way of the Open Hand
Assessment 2.1

When I returned from my morning run on Saturday, I had expected to find Dad waiting for me. What I had not expected was who I found with him.

"Hey, Taylor!" Dad called from the kitchen as I opened the door. "Guess who decided to drop by for once?"

Huh?

"She brought a friend too."

Confused, I stepped into the kitchen, and my face fell at the sight of Emma and Sophia sitting at the kitchen table.

Dad turned, smiling broadly, utterly oblivious. "Speaking of which, how come I haven't seen Emma by recently? It's been at least a year now."

"That's because we aren't friends anymore, Dad," I answered stonily. "She made that abundantly clear when I returned from camp a couple of years ago, and her actions since have demonstrated a certain... finality to that decision of hers." Emma flinched. Huh. Odd. What was that about?

I'd never told Dad about Emma turning on me or the attempts to bully me. It just... hadn't seemed important. Except now, she was in my home. I carefully forced my fists to unclench before I did something rash.

"What do you two want?" I asked.

Emma's eyes darted toward my father. I didn't move. Whatever she had come here to say or do, she could say or do it in front of Dad.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted out. "I'm sorry, Taylor! I'm sorry for everything! I just..." she took a raggedy breath. "I'm sorry."

"'Everything'?" I echoed. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific."

She flinched again. "I mean everything," she said, her voice ragged. "T-turning on you. Betraying your secrets. Th-the insults, the rumors, the pranks. All of it. I'm sorry."

"Emma?" Dad said, his voice laced with disbelief and a hint of anger.

"Dad," I interjected, holding a hand up. "Let me handle this."

Dad looked at me, then to Emma and Sophia, then back at me. I gave him a reassuring nod. "I'll... be upstairs if you need me, okay, kiddo?" he said. I nodded again, and he backed out of the kitchen. I turned my attention back to our "guests."

"I'm... sorry too," Sophia mumbled. "For, you know, trying to shove you and... hit you and stuff."

Huh. I considered that. They seemed genuine. Well, Emma did. Sophia looked more... preoccupied. Not deceptive, but definitely distracted. Were they really being honest? Had they actually grown a conscience, or was this just another set up? I didn't know.

Better question. Did I really care?

No. No, I didn't. Or rather, I chose not to.

Finally, I shrugged.

"Okay."

Emma blinked. "'O-okay'? That- that's it?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's it. Okay. I accept your apology, for whatever it's worth." Probably not much. "Was there something else?"

Emma looked crestfallen. Sophia looked at my former friend, then shook her head. "You know what?" she said, getting up. "Fuck it. You wanna know why she turned on you? It's my fault. Has been from the beginning."

"Gee, Emma both made a new friend and turned on me while I was away at nature camp," I said with mock surprise. "I never would have guessed that these two events might be connected somehow."

"Damn it," Sophia growled. "I'm being serious here. Emma... some bad shit went down while you were away, and I was there to help her out. She was..." she paused, groping for the right word.

"Weak," Emma supplied, her voice raspy. "You can say it. I was weak, but I needed to feel strong. I thought the only way I could was by putting down the strongest person I know, and that's you, Taylor."

"I'm flattered," I deadpanned. "Really, I am. Now, the part where I'm supposed to care...?" I trailed off meaningfully.

"I screwed up, okay?!" Emma shouted. "Can you... could you ever forgive me?"

I looked at her for a long moment. She looked positively... broken. A small, ugly part of me couldn't help but savor that, and sheer satisfaction warmed my heart. I took a calming breath and ruthlessly shoved it down. I would work through it later.

Much later.

"Maybe," I said finally. "Someday, perhaps. But right now? I'd really appreciate it if you two just got out of my house."

They exchanged a look, then nodded. I followed them to the front door, and Emma turned just as she stepped outside.

"Taylor, I-" her voice hitched, "I wish I could take it all back. I wish we could be friends again." For a very brief moment, I saw her. My BFF. My best friend forever. The illusory girl who had been my rock after my mother's death, whose loss I'd long ago mourned and who I was half-convinced by now had been nothing more than a dream.

Then the memories of betrayal roared to the forefront of my mind, of petty insults and pranks, of enforced isolation, of heartfelt secrets once shared in confidence turned into precision weapons that still occasionally slipped past my defenses, and the moment was gone.

"I never did tell you what I did at nature camp, did I, Emma?" I asked rhetorically. "I met someone, a woman named Lia, and I learned many things from her. One of them was that only a fool chooses to repeat a mistake."

"What-?"

"I trusted you once, Emma," I interrupted. "That was a mistake."

I shut the door and turned around. I leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor.

And I began to cry.