It was raining hard this particular summer night. I had just dropped off Milo at Mollie’s house, knowing the type of night I was going to have. Candlelit dinner, soft music, and a night just for Marielle and I. I got into the apartment, not prepared to see Marielle already sitting sat the kitchen table with her hands folded.
“Babe,” I said, placing the wet umbrella on the doormat. “I thought you were going to be out until later tonight–“
“It couldn’t wait,” she said, looking up at me. Her expression seemed worrisome, which made me feel uneasy myself.
“Uhm, sure,” I said, sitting in the seat across from her. “Is everything okay?” Marielle didn’t say anything back. “Marielle?”
“I have to tell you something,” she began putting together her words. “It’s… not easy to say–“
“You’re pregnant?” I asked, eyes widen in shock.
“No, no; not that,” Marielle waved off quickly. She sighed before she looked up at me. “I heard back from Oxford today.” I knew exactly where she was going with this.
“I’m sorry, babe.” I got up from my seat and sat next to Marielle, wrapping my arm around her. “I know how bad you wanted to get in, but maybe this is just a blessing in disguise. Maybe–“
“Milo,” Marielle shook her head as she called my name. “I got in.” In normal situations, we’d be jumping in joy as I pick her up and kiss her, congratulating her. Instead, we sat in silence; unable to celebrate.
“You’re declining the offer, right?” I asked. Marielle and I have been discussing our future plans considering she had applied for Oxford University for an intensive theater program. The program, in particular, was located at their London location; as in overseas and a thousand miles away from home.
Marielle scrunched her eyebrows. “I accepted it.”
“Marielle,” I said, unknowing what to do or say in this moment. “You didn’t bother discussing this with me before making that decision?”
“It’s my decision to make–“
“You’re in a relationship, Marielle; I’m not saying it’s not your decision, but you would think being in a serious, committed relationship, you’d think twice about making a decision like this.” I was annoyed at her, knowing that the root of our problems were about this program at Oxford. Marielle and I were at that stage in our relationship where I was looking towards marrying her. My future consisted of me raising my son with her by my side, calling her my wife and the mother of our future children. I envisioned this whole life for us, and hearing her choose otherwise after expressing my desire to build a future with her upset me.
“You know how I felt about this program,” she argued back. “You knew how much this program meant to me–“
“Apparently more than our relationship,” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Seriously Mari; if you knew getting accepted into this program was your endgame, then why string me along?”
“You’re being irrational,” Marielle spat out. “I could want both things, Milo. I want you and I want this program, but–“
“But what?”
“I–“
“What, Marielle?”
“I can’t let this opportunity slip through my fingers.” She looked up at me; her expression stoic and definite in her answer. She had played this scenario in her head numerous time before it became reality. She knew all along that she was going to accept the Oxford offer. “This could help me jumpstart my career in acting. Holder and I decided that–“
“Whoa, whoa,” I shut my eyes closed, feeling the fumes arise in me. “You spoke to Holder about this before your own boyfriend?”
“Holder got accepted into the program too; you’d know that he applied if you ever listened to me,” Marielle dug back, shaking her head in displeasure.
“Do you hear how ridiculous this sounds?! You’re running to London with your childhood best friend, who–sorry to say this– but has been secretly in love with you, instead of staying here with your boyfriend?”
“Not every friendship between a man and woman has a secret relationship agenda; Holder and I aren’t you and Jennifer.” I looked at Marielle, confused. It had been so long since I heard Jennifer’s name come across in conversation, especially after she had fled to North Carolina with her fiancée.
“What does this have anything to do with Pep?”
“Milo.” Marielle placed her hands together, trying to find the right words to say. “Things haven’t been the same with you since she left. I’m tired of feeling like I’m fighting with the ghost of another woman.”
“You’re putting this on me?“
“I’m not putting this on anyone but myself,” Marielle spat back. “I’m also not going to sit here and pretend that I don’t feel this way either.” Marielle looked at me with such an expression I never saw her have before. It was like she was mourning the loss of a life she thought she was going to have, versus the one she knew she wanted. “Things between us haven’t been the same since Jennifer left.”
I hate that she was right.
I slowly turned around to shut the ringtone of my phone off, not realizing that I was sleeping on the couch and not in my bed. I fell to the ground, wincing in pain. Fuckin’ hell, I’m too old to be sleeping on couches these days.
The door to my bedroom door open, and out ran Pep in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of my basketball shorts. She had something in her hands.
“Who’s there?!” she yelled out. I didn’t realize that it was still the middle of the night, and that it was a missed call from my mother who is currently traveling with my father in the Philippines for the summer.
“Pep, chill; it’s just me,” I said in a deep voice, still half asleep. “I was reaching for my phone and fell off the sofa.” Pep turned on the little lamp in the living room area as she walked toward me, helping me off from the ground. Pep rubbed her eyes, clearly half asleep herself. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
“It’s fine,” she began to say, pulling her stray hairs away from her face. “I’m just glad no one’s trying to rob your place in the middle of the night.” I couldn’t help but smile at her comment; she always knew how to lighten up the mood in situations like this.
“You can still have the bed,” I insisted, sitting on the couch now. She sat in the love seat diagonal from me. “Pep—”
“I’m not tired anymore,” she answered. “You think I’d just go back to sleep after waking up in a panic?” I smiled, nodding my head in agreement.
“Let’s hang in my office; I don’t want us to wake the kids,” I suggested, pointing her to the small room to the side.
I opened the sliding door as Pep stared inside the office. She walked in, observing the tiny space.
“This is a cute space for an office,” she commented, sitting on the small lounge chair near my bookshelf. I closed the door behind us, walking into the office to turn on the floor lamp.
“It was advertised as a walk-in closet, but figured I needed an office more than a walk-in closet.” Pep looks in the bookshelf, scanning all of the books stacked on there. “I have to organize those better someday—”
“The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” Pep read the cover of the book. “Didn’t we read this in high school?”
“Yeah, I thought it was a pretty good book.” She skimmed through the pages before stopping at the very last page.
“Waverly High School of the Performing Arts,” she said as she turned the book with the page facing me. “You never gave it back?” I felt uneasy, forgetting that I even had the book on my shelf. Seeing it made me remember why I did in the first place.
“I did,” I started to say, looking at Pep. “That was Gwen’s copy of the book.” I didn’t like to bring Gwen up in conversation, especially since this upcoming March will make it 10 years since she passed. It was always a sensitive topic for me, and even when Pep and I were closer, we never spoke about Gwen.
Pep quickly closed the book, seeming embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I—”
“She never got to finish it,” I began to say out loud, as if Pep asked in the first place. “I gave Waverly all of her textbooks, but I couldn’t get myself to return that one.”
“Did you ever finish reading it yourself?”
“No,” I answered. “I ended up failing English for that marking period.” Pep and I sat in silence, not really knowing what else to talk about in the witching hours of the night. Thankfully, Pep broke the silence with a sigh.
“I get it. It’s hard to let go of something that once belonged to someone that passed.” I looked at Pep, now looking into space while deep in her thoughts. She came back once she blinked. “Cullen was an Archie Comics guy. He always had a few on his nightstand; he wasn’t a ‘TV in the bedroom’ type of guy.” She smiled at me with a sullen look. “There are the only things I kept when I left North Carolina.” I looked at Pep as she spoke, processing all of the different memories and emotions of her past. I didn’t realize that both Pep and I share a common experience that has altered us as people. Losing Gwen changed my entire life. I’m still trying to get back to the person I was before she passed. I can only imagine Pep was now left to do the same thing.
“Does it ever get easier?” She asked, looking at me.
“Does what get easier?”
“The loss,” Pep answered, fidgeting with her hands. “The… mourning and grief part.” I wasn’t expecting her to ask me that.
“There’s always going to be a part of you that will mourn… but, it gets easier to manage with time.” I looked at Pep and smiled. “Be gentle with yourself.”
“Thanks,” she said, getting comfortable in her seat. Something about Pep was different since she came back to New York. She seemed wiser, more mature, but not the Pep I grew up with. She seemed to had lost her spark; who knows how much she endured when she was in North Carolina. I can sympathize with her, knowing how it feels to lose something you thought you’d have for the rest of your life.
Danny and Nicki found me in my apartment the day after Pep left for North Carolina. They had used the emergency key to come into my apartment, visibly worried for me.
“Milo,” Nicki said once she saw me sitting on my living room floor with a half drunken bottle of wine. “Where’s Milo?”
“At a friend’s house,” I said, staring into space. She didn’t bother asking what friend it was; she already knew where Milo was. She took the bottle away from me, getting up to place it on the table.
“Where’s Marielle?” Danny asked. Nicki shook her head at Danny, but it was already too late. I turned my head slowly, looking at Nicki and Danny standing there.
“She fled to London,” I nonchalantly answered. “We broke up—”
“Milo, why didn’t you say anything?” Nicki scolded as she helped me off the ground, getting me on the couch. “When did this happen—”
“It doesn’t even matter anymore,” I brushed off, getting annoyed. “I fucking lost my best friend.”
“I know how you felt about Marielle—” Danny added.
I shook my head. “Not Marielle,” I responded back. “Pep.”
Letters From Liz. 