2017, Spring

Marie and Evelyn sit on the rooftop of their hotel, sharing a bottle of whiskey, alone.

A draft begins, as it always does, a conversation starter of nonsense neither girls care too much about. Speak of nails and grades, hair and boys.

“Do you remember that one time, back home, when we stole a bottle of whiskey from that gas station and sat in an alley laughing about it?” Marie couldn’t help but be reminded of the night as she stares into the stars with so much to say and such little motivation to actually say it. Evelyn, sitting on the floor of the rooftop, laying her back against a generator replies, “Don’t think too much about the past, it’s not good for you. We’re here so, think about now.” Evelyn and Marie would take a bullet for each other, but they don’t talk about that kind of stuff, it would be too awkward.

Marie looks at Ev, as if she’s said something brilliant, out of this world, but this happens often. Everything Evelyn says sounds brilliant in Marie’s ears, everything.

Marie doesn’t know how to say what she’s thinking, so she continues to stare. She lays her head against her own shoulder, thinking that maybe if she makes it obvious enough, Evelyn will make the first move. Evelyn will notice.

“I really care about you.” Evelyn comforts, while she takes the last swig of the bottle, before it’s once full and worthwhile contents drain out to something empty, and wasted. Marie’s gaze breaks and she traces her eyes down to the glass, and wonders if it craves to be full again.

Evelyn puts her hand on Marie’s shoulder, and their eyes meet each other. For the first time of the night, they’re really seeing each other.

Evelyn opens her mouth, about to speak, “What are you doing?” Blurts Marie, who can’t feel her torso. She’s never felt like this before, so helpless, so vulnerable.

“You’re just, my best friend, M. I want you to know that you can feel comfortable around me, I want you to feel comfortable around me.” Marie has never longed to melt into the concrete below her more than ever. Or cry, she’s never wanted to cry more than ever. She continues to stare at Ev, but begins to shake her head. At first she makes small, unnoticeable movements, but after a few seconds, her shoulders are moving in attempt to catch up with the lefts and rights her head leads. “You know I don’t want to hear that— you know I can’t hear that.” Marie shouts. She can’t hold it in.

It could be the whiskey or the nostalgia, but maybe, just maybe, it’s the fact that she’s held it in that she’s been in love with her best friend for 3 years.

Evelyn still locks her eyes on Marie, but the expression in them has changed. She doesn’t know what to do.

“I love you, I love you, and I can’t understand why.” Marie cries out, louder than she expected. By now she’s done looking at Evelyn, she’s all over the place, finding importance in lines on the floor, satellites in the sky.

“M,” Evelyn starts, but as soon as she lets it out, Marie jumps up from Evelyn’s side and heads toward the door downstairs. She’s embarrassed. Evelyn jogs over to her and grabs her arm “You’re not wrong for feeling this way, it’s just—“ Evelyn can’t figure out how to not hurt her friend, so she just speaks, “I love you and I hope you know that, but, I can’t love you in that way.” She let’s go of her arm and they share a last glance, both of regret and guilt, as Marie opens the door. She slowly turns her head back, one foot in the hallway and one still on the roof, “I’m sorry for ruining this.” She closes the door.