Page 108 of A Simple Reminder
She’s right. She’s so right, and that’s what makes it worse. Leora’s always been my constant, my steady, and here I am, failing her just when she feels farthest away.
My fingers hover over the screen, what do I say? How do I even begin to explain? My thoughts are too jumbled, my emotions everywhere.
Me
Leora, I’m so sorry. I was going to call you.
Everything happened so fast, and I didn’t know how to say it.
I pause, staring at my words. They feel inadequate, like they can’t possibly convey how much I wish I could teleport to her side and explain everything face-to-face.
Leora:
Are you serious, Sophie?
You’ve never had trouble telling me anything before. This isn’t just about me being your best friend. I thought we were family.
The lump in my throat swells, and I feel the weight of her disappointment pressing down on me. Of all the things spiraling out of control, this—the thought of losing Leora’s trust—hurts the most.
Me
We are family. Please believe that. Can I call you?
Her response takes longer than I’d like, and I hold my breath until my phone buzzes again. A photo of me and her on her wedding day lights up the screen. She's calling me.
My thumb hovers over the screen, trembling, and my pulse races as I hesitate for a fraction of a second before answering.
“Leora?” My voice cracks.
“Listen, I’m actually upset this time and—” She stops abruptly, her tone shifting. “Wait, are you okay, Soph?”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me, and choke out, “No.” The word comes out broken, and so am I.
Her voice softens instantly, the irritation melting into pure concern. “Talk to me, babe. What’s going on? I’m not really mad—I just want to understand.”
Hearing her say that, the fragile walls I’ve been trying so hard to hold together crumble completely. Many more tears are falling down my cheeks.
“Leora, I’m so sorry. I should have told you. I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark. And now it’s everywhere. It’s just…everything is such a mess right now.”
“A mess?” she repeats, the concern in her tone growing sharper. “I saw the article, Sophie. Is it true? Are you and Liam…?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I feel like the worst friend ever. I didn’t know where to start, and then I just kept pushing it off and off until?—”
“Okay, okay,” she says gently. “Slow down, honey. Take a breath. Let’s do it together. One in,” she says soothingly, and I follow her, breathing in deeply. “And one out.” I exhale shakily, the tension in my chest loosening just a fraction.
I wipe at my eyes, my voice barely a whisper as I confess, “He’s the guy from Barcelona.”
There’s a pause, heavy and full of realization. “Ten years ago?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a breath.
“Yes.”
“The one who broke your heart?”
“Yes.”
Leora’s silence feels loaded, but when she finally speaks, her tone is steady, strong. “Oh, Soph.” She lets out a long sigh, the kind that carries years of shared history and every bit of love and exasperation she has for me, “Tell me everything.”
And I do. I tell her everything, the words tumbling out between tears that fall and stop in a rhythm all their own. I tell her about Barcelona, about how Liam and I met, the push and pull that left me raw and exposed, and how—against all odds—we found our way back to each other. I tell her about Dad, how he’s had moments of clarity, brief but beautiful, where he remembers me again. How he’s met Liam, hung out with him, and how those moments have brought both comfort and bittersweet longing. I tell her things I hadn’t even admitted to myself yet, letting it all pour out like a dam breaking.
