Page 25 of Omega
“Fuck that. You and him are a family. You and me are a family. But he’s just your fiancé to me. We’re sort of friends, I guess, but I’ll never be close to him. Not that I don’t like him, because I do. He’s great. He’s supercool. But he’s not my fuckingfamily.” She spat the last word with something approaching actual hate.
“Whoa, Layla. What the hell?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just…forget it.” She set her wine glass down and stood up, tugged the bottom of her bikini down and the top up, and then stalked away, storming through the kitchen and out toward the beach.
I followed her, of course. She was a good thirty feet away by the time I made it through the house and down to the beach. She strode angrily through the lapping surf, bare feet leaving fading footprints in the wet sand. I jogged after her, caught up, grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Layla. What thefuckis wrong with you? What did I do?”
She jerked away. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m your best friend! What wouldn’t I understand?”
She backed away, shaking her head. “Me! Why I’m mad! Everything! Anything! Pick one,bitch, they’re all true.” The term we threw back and forth at each other in a joking, loving way for once didn’t feel very joking or loving.
Tears pricked my eyes. “Layla…what…? I—I don’t get it.”
“No shit. You’re so caught up inyou, in fucking Roth, in whatever the hell we’re even running from that you don’t even know what’s going on with me. We’ve been best friends for so long, but you sure don’t understand how throwing around the idea of family would be hard for me?”
I shook my head. “I know being away from home is hard—”
She laughed bitterly. “See, that’s exactly what I mean. Home? You think fucking Pontiac was home? And family? You can honestly throw that word at me?”
“I’m so lost, Layla. Talk to me.”
She turned away and walked deeper into the water, till it was up to her knees. I went in as well and stood beside her.
She twisted a flyaway curl between a finger and thumb. “What do you know about my family, Kyrie? My real family, I mean. The one I was born in to.”
I shrugged. “I had the impression that it wasn’t…bad, just that they weren’t really…I don’t know—caring. Loving.” I blinked, thinking hard. “I—I guess I don’t know much more than that.”
She sniffled, and I realized she was fighting tears. “You think it’s an accident you don’t know more than that? Jesus, Kyrie. I mean, I love you like hell, girl, but you aresoclueless sometimes. Like, just…clueless. You can only see what’s going on with you, most of the time.”
That made me angry, and I opened my mouth to say something in response, but then…I thought about it.
And she was right.
I knew little about her because I’d never bothered to find out. Granted, she was prickly and defensive and refused to talk about herself or her past or much of anything personal, but then…I’d never pushed. And Layla…when she knew something was going on with me, she’d turn tenacious, refusing to back down or shut up or give up until I’d spilled it all. And I always did, and she was always there for me.
“Shit. Layla, I—”
“We’ve been friends for over five years, Key. I know a lot about you. I accept it all, and I love you. And granted, the shit you’ve been through over the last two, two and a half years, ever since that douchebag Mr. Edwards propositioned you and then you got that check…it’s been crazy. Totally crazy. Everything with Roth and finding out about your dad and then getting whisked away by mister sexy billionaire and living all over the world, and then Roth getting snatched and whatever else…I don’t blame you for not following up on little old me.”
I was crying now. “I’m a shitty friend.”
She just laughed. “Yeah, but you’remyshitty friend. And you’ve made up for it. You brought me here to be with you on your…your fucking aquatic skyscraper. I get that it’s for my safety…intellectually, I get it. But I guess I still sort of resent being yanked out of my life, you know? But there’s a lot about me you don’t understand.”
“So help me understand,” I said. “I want to understand.”
Layla just shook her head. “It’s not that easy. I can’t just…unburden myself. There are layers and layers of shit.”
“For real, though, Layla. You can’t jump all over me like you have been and not explain, not give me a chance to understand what the fuck is going on.”
Layla walked out of the surf and sat down in the dry sand, letting the water lap at her legs, and I sat beside her. She stared out at the water for a long time, and then started talking, her voice low, soft, hesitant. “So, I may not have told you the whole truth about me. I let you think my childhood was just…average-shitty, I guess. Like, I think you probably have the impression I grew up with both parents, and that it was fine, just not…great.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, basically. Average-shitty sounds about right.”
She shook her head, the loose bun of her hair coming loose. “It wasn’t average-shitty, Key. Not even close. It was…super mega awful shitty, like whoa shitty.”