Chapter Nine

Today

We get to the house Johnny rented and I stand aghast, mind-blown not at the short yellow house with green shutters but at the large infinity pool, the outdoor tiki hut bar, the sand volleyball court, and the private dock just steps away. The air smells salty. My sinuses already feel clear. The bright, green water sloshes gently against the rocks.

It's the perfect temperature for my perpetually cold body.

Tucker's going to burn like the devil here.

When we get out of the car, Johnny announces, "It's great, right?"

"How rich are you?" I ask.

"We all pitched in. It's not that bad. My mom knows a guy who knows a guy who got us a deal."

"Is that why your family has money?" It's all starting to add up. "Because she knows a guy ?"

He blinks against the sun, confused.

There's a skateboard in the driveway, Wyatt's, and I laugh internally at the image of him at thirty-years-old, his hair some unnatural color, skateboarding down the Charlotte airport. Probably while on the phone with work, talking about banking things. Ritchie would have walked beside him, dressed expensively, unaffected.

They all arrived last night. I wasn't interested in taking a red-eye flight and I assume neither was Tucker. I'll bet they stumbled in at midnight and started drinking right away. Serena probably took out her tarot cards and Johnny probably turned on the Golf Channel.

Maybe everyone has that friend group: the one where you make the effort so many times that you can't stop a rolling stone. There's no reason for it. You're spread out all over the country, it's expensive and complicated to get together, but if you don't, then who will come to your funeral?

These people remember me in my prime, when I had no back pain or crow's feet, and could hold a handstand, the way I'd like to be remembered. Everyone's different and the one thing we have in common is freshman year of college. We're trauma-bonded over burgeoning adulthood, 99-cent frozen pizza, holding hair back, and the fear of choice.

I hear my name and notice my carry-on bag flying through the air. I catch it, and Tucker raises his eyebrows in surprise.

He muses, "Wow. It's almost like some childhood acquaintance taught you how to catch things."

"And no one told you not to throw everything."

In the car, I talked around him. I talked to Johnny, he talked to Johnny, but we did not interact directly, none of which seemed to bother our mutual friend. I stared out the window at the distant ocean when a girl was mentioned. A woman, I guess I should say. He's not twenty-two anymore. Any woman Tucker dated would be beautiful and charming, he wouldn't give anyone else the time of day. He's not interested in dating girls like me, a wild thing , as he liked to say.

I was only wild around Tucker. Wild wasn't even the word I'd use. Free , might have been more apropos. Free because I trusted him implicitly, even when I didn't recognize it.

We stand in the driveway a second before Johnny says, "So, I guess this is the last time it's just the three of us."

I point to the house. "Aren't there people in there?"

"I mean right here. Right now." He lifts his sunglasses. "It was the three of us for a really long time."

Tucker makes uncomfortable sounds. "That ended a long time ago, man."

The three of us, innocent and young.

A long, long time ago.

Johnny snorts. "Remember when we snuck out for the community pool and you two dared each other to go skinny dipping?"

I brighten, saying, "I remember the alarm tripping and you two leaving me naked in the pool."

"That was your own fault. You didn't have to do it."

"He dared me!"

Tucker insists, "And I came back for you. And I didn't sneak a peek when you jumped over the hedge nude because you were afraid you didn't have time to put your bathing suit back on."

I lifted my eyes to his. "You totally snuck a peek at my cooch."

"Hand to God." He is very serious. "And I was twelve, I really wanted to see some breasts."

I swing my bag to the other shoulder. "Well, jokes on you because I didn't have any boobs at twelve."

He ducks his head. "I'm painfully aware of when you developed."

My jaw drops. "Is that why you were always daring us to go skinny-dipping? You little perv ."

"And you fell right into my trap." He flicks the skin under my chin, and I snap back, grabbing my neck.

Johnny ignores us, as usual, and whistles. "And the science experiments in my bathroom? My dad said you were bad for our plumbing, Ella."

"My dad said that about me, too," I say.

Tucker leans over and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "Hal was talking about you shedding."

I push his shoulder away. "You're the one who was always obsessed with my hair. If you didn't have such a fetish for pulling on it, it wouldn't have been an issue."

"Well, if it wasn't your wig hair that made me horny, it was for damn sure those gnarly ballerina toes of yours."

"Next time I lose a toenail, I'll be sure to save it for you."

Johnny steps between us. "Okay, okay."

I saunter back, listening to the water behind us. Tucker kicks a pebble on the driveway. A curtain lifts in the house.

"See this . I missed this. I love seeing guys back to normal," Johnny says with a smile.

Of course he wants me and Tucker to fight. It's part of his comfort zone.

But, this isn't normal , I want to say. We usually peppered insults just to add spice, but we could typically make it through a conversation without drawing blood, especially during the last edition of The Adventures of Ella and Eli . We ended on such a different note than how we began. That was a time when I wanted to know everything Tucker had to say. Now, all I can think about is what he did.

Or didn't do.

I watch him straighten up and grab the handle of his luggage.

I'm afraid I'll want to watch Tucker do everything this week. I want to see how he acts here with the friends we haven't shared in years, if he can still easily slip into conversation with them or if it's awkward for him to be around me. I never understood how no one else found his silence a big deal. My parents, my sisters, his parents, our friends. They acted like it was nothing. We weren't friends. It shouldn't be a big deal.

Johnny comes to collect my luggage. He explains, "Y'all are my best friends. Whatever happens from here on out, I want you to know that."

Tucker balks. "Whatever happens…do we die tonight?"

" You might," I snarl.

"Hey, you've done enough damage. You've kneed my dick so many times you've probably killed any chance for me to have an heir."

"Just looking out for the next generation." I stick my tongue out.

Johnny ignores us. "Things are about to be different, guys. I'm getting married!" He grits a scared, false smile. "And we're growing up. We're changing."

He continues, "I want this last trip to be special. I just want to have one more chance to say that whatever happens between us, you're my best friends and that means something." He turns to me. "Ells, you're the person I feel the most comfortable in the entire world. And the person I trust the most is you, Tuck."

"Same, man," Tucker offers. He adds, "About you ."

I stifle an eye roll before considering his words. Our childhood ended forever ago, but whatever little bit is left gets chipped away with every milestone.

Leaving school. Moving. Getting engaged.

Johnny and I talk on the phone weekly, but it's just a catch up, and we will rarely ever be two best friends alone in a room together. As I blink against the sun, heaviness sinking into my heart, I realize that I made peace with that knowledge a long time ago. Our connection evolved, as it should, and we'll never be as close as we were twenty years ago.

Between Tucker and I, my accident was our milestone. Behavior shifted our relationship. I never considered how I'd reconcile with what came next for Tucker: marriage, children. Even if we didn't speak anymore, those mile markers weigh heavier in my mind than the prospect of Johnny's future ever did.

My arm brushes against Tucker's side, not realizing he was so close.

Johnny says, "Please try to put the past behind you this week. For your sakes. You two have way more history than I have with either one of you."

"I don't think I'll ever shake her," Tucker replies. "She's in my mother's will."

I flash my eyes to him. "So, the next time you're going to talk to me is when you deliver Lori's collection of vintage perfume bottles?"

"That's what she's leaving you? I thought you were getting the Beanie Babies." He turns around and walks, leaving me staring at his back.

That's probably all I'll see now. The back of him. The sight of him moving far away.

"Ell?" he calls out.

I stare at him.

"Ella?"

"Coming," I sigh, grabbing my suitcase. I follow the stone-laid pathway, past fountains and large, full trees to the front door. When Johnny opens it for me, I hear voices call out, "Happy Birthday!"