This is the eighteenth part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, Part XVI, and Part XVII before continuing.
TW: miscarriage, brief mention of suicide attempt
I assumed it would be Jessica, so I made the mistake of opening the door without checking the peephole first.
It was not Jessica.
It was Randy.
There’s no mirror in the hallway, so I couldn’t see my own facial expression, but I’m sure it plummeted from smiles to the deepest, most disappointed frown in a fraction of a second.
“What are you doing here?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“It’s Nikki.”
“She fell down a well?” I said before I could stop myself. I hadn’t thought of that option yet, probably because no one has a well anymore. But now that I had said it, the image appealed to me.
Randy sighed and closed his eyes with that air of gathering patience to deal with me that made me want to be even more difficult to deal with because fuck him! He had cheated on me with my best friend. He was not the one who needed patience. I was the one who needed patience!
So, I copied him, because I knew that would be the best way to infuriate him! I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, let it out as slowly as I could, and sure enough, when I opened my eyes again, he was glaring at me.
I forced myself to smile beatifically, but I didn’t say anything. Just waited for him to try to explain why I should care about the backstabbing bitch.
“Can I come in?”
I opened the door wider and stepped to one side, waving grandiosely to convey how welcome he was.
Then I slammed the door behind him.
That was an impulse, and honestly, not one of my better moments. I did have a fleeting moment when I thought it might have disturbed Jessica upstairs, and it did make me feel a little guilty.
But then I saw Randy flinch at the sound, and all guilt vanished!
“Look, I know we didn’t end things on the best terms-”
“The best terms? You call cheating on me with my best friend, ‘not the best terms’? That’s not even an understatement. That’s a complete rewrite of history. That’s up there with calling the Civil War the ‘War of Northern Aggression’.”
He froze and stared past me in that way he does when he knows he’s losing an argument and is trying to find his way back to the higher ground.
But there is no higher ground for you here, bitch! It’s all mine!
Then he said, “She lost the baby,” and swept the higher ground right out from under me.
“What?” was all I could say.
“Apparently, there were some complications, and…” he shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and honestly, my first response was to wrap my arms around him and—
No! No. That would not be happening. I had tried to kill myself because of these two. They would be getting zero sympathy from me.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. OK, maybe a little sympathy.
He nodded. After a moment he said, “Nikki is … she’s not dealing with it well, and, honestly, I’m afraid to leave her alone. I only made it here with the promise of bringing you back with me.”
I gaped. I squawked a surprised laugh. Then I gawked. “You think I’m ever going anywhere with you ever again?”
He rolled his eyes. “Ashley, come on. I know you’re mad at us, and you have every right to be, but this is bigger than that. You know you’d never forgive yourself if Nikki … well, did something drastic and you didn’t do anything to stop it.”
I almost laughed, thinking about how many hours I had fantasized about Nikki’s death.
But of course I couldn’t tell Randy any of that.
Then it occurred to me.
If Nikki wanted to die, then we both wanted the same thing.
To be continued…