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“Okay, so . . . do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” I ask, playing dumb. I definitely don’t want to talk about what she came in here to talk about, and maybe she’ll get the hint.
“Your . . . feelings?” She says it like a question rather than a statement.
“What feelings? I don’t have any.”
Jessie just rolls her eyes.
“Okay, fine. I’m still sad. There—are you happy?” I flop dramatically onto my bed, turning to face away from her.
“Obviously I’m not happy you’re sad. But I am happy you’re talking about it.”
“There isn’t anything else to say about it. We were together, and now we’re not. The end.”
I roll back over and face her. She’s wearing her Mom Face, which is what I call the look she gives me when she disapproves of something but isn’t going to say anything about it. In this case, she disapproves of me not talking about my feelings. I get thislook a lot from Jessie. She tries to keep me in line, while I try to get her to overstep all the lines.
“Have you talked to either of them?” she asks, poking my leg.
“What would I say? ‘Sorry I walked out, hope you guys are enjoying your relationship without me’? No, thank you.”
Jessie’s mouth twists and scrunches, and I know she probably wants to say something, but as my best friend she’s trying to be supportive and hold back on giving me advice or offering solutions where they aren’t needed. She’s also trying really hard not to push me to talk about my feelings more, and I appreciate it so much that I try to put her out of her misery.
“Love isn’t for me, Jessie. It’s too messy.” I groan and sit up, stretching my arms over my head and leaning from side to side. “I’m swearing off relationships. Going back to Old Reliable.”
“Your vibrator?”
“Well, yes. I meant, like . . . casual sex with no commitment, but yeah, obviously that too.”
“What’s this I hear about sex and sex toys?” Mac appears in the doorway, a steaming Styrofoam cup in one hand, a fork in the other, twisting long strands of noodles around it.
“You would hear that part and only that part,” I say.
“I was tryingnotto eavesdrop,” Mac says, mouth half-full.
“Why? It’s so fun,” I say. “You learn all kinds of things, like that you have levels of sadness.”
Mac raises his eyebrows and cuts Jessie a “you’ve been caught” look. Jessie closes her eyes and shakes her head, her cheeks turning a light shade of red.
“Jade,” Jessie says, a half-sigh, half-apology.
“I’m just messing. It’s fine,” I say with a glance between the two of them.
Their faces are painted with concern.
“Guys, seriously. I’m fine. I was sad, but good news! I’m actually done being sad now.”
“That’s healthy,” Jessie mutters.
Mac adds, “It sounds like you’re avoiding your feelings?—”
“A favorite pastime of mine.”
“—and trying to replace real intimacy with sex.” He shoves another forkful of noodles into his mouth.
“So youwereeavesdropping,” I say.
“I said I wastryingnot to. I didn’t say I was successful.”
