Best days

Late, late, late.

Too late.

That seemed to be her default setting. Revka prided herself in her intelligence. Relied on it to get somewhere in life. How come she couldn’t see? She was blind. And now it was late, late, late.

The room is dark. The clock strikes midnight, then it’s half past one, quarter to three. She shouldn’t. It’s too late now. Revka knows. She always knows. After. Later. Never in time.

She knew even back then. Knew that she liked him. Her best friend in the entire world. It was a childish crush. She was a child. Fourteen, just starting high school. He was cool and she was anything but. Her family always said everything was written on her face. She was good with creating worlds, escaped into the one in her head often enough. She could craft a believable lie. He would never know.

Truth was, she couldn’t decide. Decision making wasn’t one of Revka’s strong suits. Hated it in fact. She should tell him. Maybe it was better to know. (Looking back on it, the agony of not knowing for sure clawing at her lungs… Doesn’t matter now.)

It was Christmas. She baked him a personalized brownie, well she baked one for all her friends. This was different. He was always different. She was going to tell him; she just needed a chance. She should’ve known the universe hated her. He was popular with the girls, maybe some of the boys as well. Hell, why wouldn’t he be? He was handsome, confident, tall, muscular, funny. Everything she swore wasn’t her type. All day. She waits all damn day and still, not a moment alone.

There’s a guy that watches her sulk in the bustling hallway. She pays him little mind. He’s one of those pretentious boys who think they’re better than everyone else cause they wear a three-piece suit to high school. Still, when he asks her out a month later, after they get back from winter break, she says yes.

The room is dark. She can admit now that that particular decision wasn’t her brightest moment. She doesn’t like the guy, has doubts if he even really likes her or if it’s just some sick power play. Still, he’s her first in many things. Her first kiss happens in a seedy café when she’s sixteen. He tells her, more than likely a lie, that he loves her on the first damn date. She was stupid and desperate. She didn’t want to make the decision. So, she rolls with it. For three months until he breaks up with her over text. She cries for two days, misses one school day. She’s supposed to be sad, right? Her first boyfriend. Even thinking about him, after five long years makes her skin crawl. She was worthless and disgusting. Broken. Used. Why would anyone want her after this? Why would he?

Out of pure spite she makes the conscious choice to become a successful writer, just to prove to that psychopath that she can do it. He can’t.

He’s still her best friend. He doesn’t look at her differently, doesn’t think she’s worthless or disgusting. “Maybe he’s just good at hiding it” – the ever-present Voice of Doubt whispers to her every second of every day. She chooses to ignore it, or at least try to. Another decision. He decides he likes her stories. She writes one called The Attic for a contest. She doesn’t win, not that it matters. He talks about the story for weeks. It’s his favorite. God, she wants to tell him. She wants to stand on a rooftop and scream it: “It’s about us! I wrote it for you!” She was going to do it. This time Revka decides that nothing will stop her. She’ll tell him that she likes him. (Loves, really. She was in love with him. The walls of her dark room move closer. Oxygen running out.) He shows her a song, tells her it fits perfectly with her story. Revka opens her mouth, the words are almost out. “It reminds me of this girl I’m in love with” – he tells her with a smile. Why wouldn’t he tell her? They’re friends. Inseparable.

Darkness envelopes her thoughts. Spite isn’t enough to fuel her ambition after that. She stops writing, escaping into daydreams instead. She dreams she’s a princess. No one tells her what to do and she’s alone in that world. She has no feelings. Maybe it really would be better if she didn’t. She wishes the mean boy who told her she had none back in middle school was right. Feeling nothing would be a reprieve. She wished for it every single day.

He doesn’t talk about the girl after a time. He however stares at her when he thinks she won’t notice. She’s fairly sure he finds her attractive at least. It should delight her. Maybe before it would. Every time she showers, she wants to throw up. She didn’t deserve anyone liking her. She certainly didn’t deserve him.

The room was dark. She always was a selfish bastard. One of her worsts traits, at least according to her Mother. She’s selfish for not wanting children, she’s selfish for wanting something more out of life. The woman has no real idea about the ugliness Revka has inside her. No one does. They helped put it there. It turns her heart blacker and blacker every single day. Their ignorance.

What was she saying? Right. That she was a selfish bastard. Innocent jokes become flirting. Or at least her attempt at flirting. On a beautiful summer day, she makes another choice. They stop at a red light walking towards their bus stop. He said something funny, looked at her with something in his eyes. It must’ve been something positive because she kisses him on the cheek. Her heart hammers throughout the hour it takes her to get home. They never talk about it again.

She makes another choice three months later. She has to move on. She can’t keep doing this. Meets a guy online, a few years older than her, well into his university years. He’s passably cute, even if the complete opposite of him. He’s certainly an upgrade after the last one. She hopes – how cruel of her – that this will be the push they need. That there can ever be an us. One of her girlfriends tells her at Christmas (how ironic) that if she’s dating a guy, she really should stop being affectionate with her best friend. Revka knows her friends are right. They think she’s a good person, they think she loves that guy. Maybe she thinks she does as well. Distance grows faster than she can comprehend.

They’re finally seniors. He gets a girlfriend. Fates cruel trick that both of the girls’ birthday are days apart. He pulls out all the stops for that stupid girl. Why wouldn’t he? They’re dating. The monster curling in her chest grows. It’s in her throat threatening to come out when he completely forgets her birthday. She cries for hours when she gets home. The small break grows into a chasm.

She pretends to be happy. By the time graduation rolls around she can almost believe it herself. They get their certificates on a warm May day. Dread settles in the pit of her stomach. A known guest. They’re the last two in the classroom standing over their shared desk. For a few moments everything’s back to normal. He kisses her on her cheek. She deludes herself into thinking it doesn’t matter. (She thinks about it every damn night for months.)

She moves in together with her boyfriend. It takes two and half years for them to break up. This time she cries for a day. Feels like her life lost meaning. She didn’t even know who she was. The fog clears in a week. She makes a decision. She won’t ever let anyone define her again. Maybe she can be strong like her best friend thought she was.

She shouldn’t have done it. She knows that now. Knew it even before she clicked on his name on Instagram. Seven pictures. All with his girlfriend. He must love her. Her Mother insists that he was in love with her back when they were friends. Brings it up often. Revka wishes she would stop. Tells her to multiple times, when has she ever listened?

The room is dark. Her bed a mess and she sits in the middle of it. Knees pulled up against her chest, arms hugging herself. Revka knows now. Understands the ugly truth about herself. All those choices she made. Subjecting herself to guys she felt nothing for? Letting one of them destroy her, taint her? It was so she didn’t have to face her real decision. She did this to herself. Turned herself into a selfish, cruel, worthless… thing. All in an order to stay his friend, the one single thing he wanted from her. Was it ever worth it? She still lost him long before graduation. She often wondered if she knew what love was. Sometimes she wasn’t sure.

She tried her hardest. She gave herself up, did things she wasn’t supposed to, things she didn’t even want. She would’ve lit herself on fire if that’s what he wanted. Was it worth it? Was the gaping hole in her chest, his loss feeling like a missing limb worth all that? Yes. Even if she lost him, even he never thought of her anymore it was worth it. For those few moments she would do it all again.

Now it’s late.

Late, late, late.

The clock keeps ticking.