MY FRIEND, JESSIE

Writing practice. Prompt: “I can’t help but wonder if I’m digging my own grave.”

It was an offhanded comment and it took me a second before it registered. I looked at her and she seemed like she hadn’t even said it, calmly leaning across the sink to closely apply her blood red lipstick in the mirror. I could still hear the thumping bass in the bathroom at the end of the hall. She used her pinky to clean the side she messed up on. She stood back, rubbing her lips together, and fluffed her hair.

I had nothing to say.

She turned to look at me, giving me a look like I should have already done something and she was patiently waiting for me. She arched her brow and I stuttered out a half assed “uh” and she rolled her eyes. She slipped her lipstick back into her bag and checked out her ass in the mirror. She looked amazing and you could see it on her face, the little smirk she wore proudly. I always looked like a child crammed into her mother’s clothing, wearing shoes that were slightly too big and a shirt that my boobs didn’t fill. 

“What do you mean?” I said.

“It’s just like,” she looked at herself again in the mirror, her face full of discontent, “I’ve done so much. I’ve met so many people. Made so many enemies”

“You’re not making any sense, Jessie.”

She turned to look at me, hip against the counter, backlit by florescent lighting. She let out an exasperated sigh and her thick lashes brushed against her eyebrows. 

“God, sometimes you can be so thick.”

I stared my shoes. She said stuff that stuff a lot and I should be used to it. She took a step towards me, pulling my face up and brushing my hair away from my face. She towered over me. She was already taller than me and the heels didn’t help. She gave a pitiful smile before poking my nose. 

“Come on, I’ll get us some drinks,” she said. 

I followed after her, watching her sashay like she’d watch runway models do. I stayed to the edges of the crowd, talking to a girl who was too drunk for a moment, while I kept an eye on Jessie. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, leaning towards an older man who was too drunk and too horny to realize she was way too young and out of his league. He disappeared and she danced with another man, this one a little cuter and younger, for a minute or two until the older man returned with two drinks.  Jessie pried the two drinks out of his hands and turned towards me. Jessie didn’t flinch as the older man cursed at her, instead she seemed to be spurred on by it. 

“Gin and tonic, extra lime, just how you like it,” she said, handing me the clear cup. 

She had the same order in her own hand, holding it daintily between her perfectly manicured fingers.

Sometimes, I wondered why she chose me to be her best friend. My hair was never not messy, my nails chipped and bitten to the nub. I had zits that she’d always cover with her expensive concealer and she always had to pick me up in her daddy’s expensive car. But when she’d smile at me like she is now, I forgot to care. Her smile, full tooth and gums, was brighter than the laser lights in the club and I felt it reverberate through my body more than the deep bass in the club. 

Usually she’d spend the whole night with me, but last week, Brandon had severed their Friends With Benefits. I had asked Jessie if she was okay, and she simply shrugged and said his dick was small. I knew it wasn’t. So tonight, when a cute guy—Jason? Mason?—came over and asked her to dance, I shoved her onto the dance floor. I watched her with all the happiness someone could muster, content with just watching my best friend have fun and thrive. I was perfectly fine with milling about on my own, still sipping on my drink—which was basically just ice now. I’d always make sure she was within sight and she’d constantly look over to check on me.

We worked well together. She had her looks and popularity, but she always chose me. Some asshole named Will once tried to tell me that it was because I made her look hot when I stood next to her. Jessie punched him and broke his nose after she found me crying in the second floor girl’s bathroom.

She spent the night at my house that day, crammed with me in my single bed in my one floor house, telling me about how much I meant to her. She told me that I was her companion, that I rooted her to the world. She told me that I was pure and innocent, but not in a prude way. I loved the world like it had done no harm and saw the best in people and it was something she never wanted to let go of once she saw that glow within me. 

A girl, looking to be only a couple months past legal, slid up next to me. I didn’t mind. Sometimes, when I stayed on the outskirts like this, it attracted the others. We’d either talk, or we wouldn’t. I welcomed the company. 

“She’s a vision isn’t she.”

The voice was deeper than I thought it would be, smokey and rough, like she’d just woken up.

“Hm?” 

“Your friend over there,” she said, leaning towards me so I could hear her better, “I saw you two talking earlier. Thought you guys were together with the way you were looking at her.”

“We’re not,” I said. I may have said it too quick, judging by the sly face of false surprise. It quickly turned into a smile that I couldn’t decide if it made me feel warm in a good way or too hot in an uncomfortable way.

“Does that mean you’re available?” 

“It depends,” I said, which was true. I wasn’t gay, not for sure. But I’d barely kissed anyone. Jessie had been my first kiss in 9th grade, only because I freaked out at a party she dragged me to because I didn’t want to play spin the bottle. I hadn’t even thought about kissing anyone else. It never appealed to me.

“Does that mean I have a chance?”

“It depends on how lucky you are.”

I didn’t even register what I was saying. Words tumbled out before I fully processed them and I found myself flirting, actually flirting. I was watching myself become like Jessie. I wished she was there to watch it all happen. At the idea, I risked a glance at her. She was watching as she grinded on the boy from earlier, refusing to let her eyes sway from me. She smiled, but it was forced. I wanted to believe it was a face of jealousy.

I was doing well.

She would be proud.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

I hesitated, cutting my connection with Jessie to face the girl completely. Her brown eyes peered at me with such curiosity and allure. My skin felt on fire. 

“What’s your name first.” 

“Becca,” she said. She bit her lip. My breath caught. My eyes completely captured the action.

“Aimee,” I said and she repeated it, running it over her tongue and feeling it out.

“Suits you,” she said, “Shall we?” 

She extended her hand and I couldn’t help but feel like those fairytales my mother read to me. Each step felt like I was walking through water. I knew it wasn’t the alcohol. Jessie’s actions made more sense now. Being wanted is the best feeling I’ve ever had. Her hand was heavy in mine, slightly larger than my own. She was taller than me, so she created a perfect path for me through the mass of people. 

The summer heat was as suffocating as the air inside the building. It was dense and I could feel it pressing against my body, forcing Jessie’s shirt to cling to my torso. She led me along to her car, a dingy, silver little thing. It would have to do instead of a carriage. I could feel my phone buzzing in my pocket and I knew it was most likely Jessie. I didn’t care enough to check. 

Becca held the door open for me and I slipped into the passenger seat, pulling out my phone to just send a quick text. The driver’s door shut, shaking the car slightly. Three texts patiently waited from Jessie, asking repeatedly where I had gone. She seemed frantic. I started to type and was interrupted by a call.

“Don’t answer that.”

Becca’s smile and inviting persona was gone. I felt reality crash over me like a bucket of cold water. Becca’s jaw was set, firm and unforgiving. 

“What?”

The call went to voicemail. It rang again. Her contact photo flashed onto the screen and my eyes darted between my phone and the girl next to me. She had fear on her face. She licked her lips and quickly put her car into reverse.

“Don’t answer,” she said again. 

She started to back up, worrying her lip that I had been eyeing between her teeth. She manhandled the joystick into drive. Jessie ran out of the club and everything seemed to slow. 

“Shit,” Becca said, definitely panicking now. She sped off, tires screeching and I saw Jessie’s eyes narrow as she spotted me in the passenger seat. They seemed to turn black, but maybe it was just distance. She pushed her shoulder’s back like she was stretching them out after being hunched over her computer all day. She hunched over slightly and her jaw unhinged, opening wider than I knew was humanly capable. An inhuman screech echoed across the parking lot and I watch in fear, turned around in the passenger seat of a stranger’s car. 

I turned around, slumped down in my seat. I stared ahead. I listened to Becca’s heavy breathing. Her eyes rapidly switched between the street before us and the rear view mirror. I couldn’t feel my hands. 

“Yeah,” Becca said, “Your friend isn’t who you think she is.”