Page 18

Best by Gracie Abrams

“It was Henry.”

Three words is all it takes for my head to spiral and for my palms to get sweaty. Ella just got back from getting ice for the drinks. When she threw the snacks she bought on the counter, and came over to me, her eyes said everything she wasn't.

But those three words… I never thought I’d hear his name on this trip, but it seems like these next two weeks are going to be full of surprises.

I touch my necklace, the same one he put around me all those years ago, telling me how beautiful I looked as he latched it on. I can almost feel the brush of his lips against the back of my head, the crook of my neck, my forehead, like he’s the ghost haunting me after all these years.

He’s here. Henry is here , in the same hotel, same place, same vicinity as me, and I can’t run from him.

“What?” I can only manage a whisper. “H-Henry is here? Like, h-here, in this hotel?”

“Yes,” is all Ella says.

Panic floods my system. I’m either going to throw up, cry, or scream, so I do what feels right.

I lock myself in the bathroom.

I need air. I need space. I need to think, because I never thought I would see him again. I especially didn't think he would be here at Paige’s wedding. Did he and the boys stay in touch? Did Paige invite him in case she thought I wasn't going to show up?

I pace around the bathroom for a few seconds before I stop, turn the sink on, and splash cold water on my face. It doesn't help, and I don’t know why I thought it would.

When I look up at myself in the giant mirror above the sink, I swear, I can see the girl I was a few years ago. I can see the glow radiating from my skin when Henry was around. I can see a glimpse of real and true happiness I once had before I ruined it.

I know I hurt him. I know I crushed him in that airport, and now, he’s back, and I’m going to see the same face I crushed the last time we were together. I’m going to have to acknowledge his pain, the hurt I caused him. I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to speak to me again.

My breathing starts to become uneven, my mind racing as I stare at the necklace I can’t seem to take off, no matter how many times I try. Part of me feels like I kept it around my neck to punish myself—to remind myself of the hurt I caused every time I saw it and felt it against my skin.

The small windmill sits on my neck, reminding me of the happiness I once had that I ruined by doing what I always do.

Running. Bolting. Leaving .

Now he’s here, and I can’t run this time. I guess this trip really is for me to mend every terrible mistake I made back when I was young and stupid.

Though, it wasn't that long ago. I’m still young. I’m still a mess, but the difference is the work I’ve done. It’s getting diagnosed when I thought I was just a rotten person who couldn't handle grown-up life like everyone else can.

“Ames? Are you okay?” Paige asks me through the door.

I can’t find the words to answer her as I hear the girls mumbling through the door.

I run my hands through my hair, suddenly feeling like all the walls are closing in on me again. I take a second to gather myself, to remind myself of the techniques Dr. Elyse gave me when I had a panic attack in the middle of one of our sessions.

Let the thoughts exist for a moment. Take a deep breath. Let them go as soon as they take shape.

I feel the cold sink beneath my touch. I hear the girls murmuring outside the door.

Don’t run from these, Amelia. Let them come and go like a wave, I remind myself. It’s just the spiral. It’s not me. Tolerate these thoughts and move through them rather than shoving them somewhere else.

I’ve confronted the hurt I put the girls through.

I wasn't expecting to have to confront him and what I did over these two weeks, but life is full of surprises you can’t plan for.

I need to talk these feelings out, and instead of running away, I’m going to run towards the people who understand why this situation is so overwhelming for me.

“Amelia, you never did tell us what actually happened with you two,” Paige says through the door.

“Now is as good of a time as any if you have to see him all week,” Ella tells me. “We’re here for you. ”

It didn't sound like she said that with an eye roll, but she’s right. I never told them anything about me and Henry. I just fucking left.

“Do you want me to get the prosecco?” Paige asks me.

Well, here goes nothing. “We’re all going to need a drink,” I tell them as I swing the door open. “Well, besides me.”

“Why?” Hads asks.

I take a deep breath before I speak again. “Because I’m going to tell you guys everything.”

Before I can stop myself, my feet carry me over to Paige’s giant bed, and I cover myself in a blanket, making myself as comfortable as I can before I have to tell the most uncomfortable story of all time.

I know it’s my fault, which is why it’s so hard for me to talk about this.

I know the girls have thought I was a horrible person more times than I can think about, but what I did to Henry will solidify my terrible human being status.

No diagnosis can undo the fact that I broke the heart of a boy who just wanted to love me.

The girls get comfortable on the bed, Paige even opting to hold my hand as I get my breathing under control.

“Take your time,” Paige tells me.

I can only shake my head. “I don’t deserve to feel like this. I’m the only one I can blame for all the shit I did.”

“Well, yeah,” Ella says, affirming my own belief. “But you’re still allowed to hurt about the things you fucked up about. That shows me you’re a human and not just an unfeeling robot like I thought you were.”

“Ells,” Paige says, her voice soft as she continues to hold my hand.

“She’s right,” I agree. “I was a robot, but when it comes to him…” I can barely say his name without wanting to crumble into my guilt. “He was the only person besides you guys who has ever made me feel any semblance of anything.”

“What happened on that day in the airport, Ames?” Hads asks .

“I broke him,” is all I can get out before the tears start to fall.

It feels good to get this all out. I don’t think I ever acknowledged how I felt about everything that transpired between us.

My journal has heard it all, but I’ve never spoken the words out loud.

It gives it more meaning hearing the words filter through my ears, my own voice sounding far away.

I take another breath before I continue, the girls existing around me as I try to get the words out. “I guess I have to go back a bit.”

“Start from wherever you need to,” Ella tells me.

“You guys know I had a hard time in England. When we all talked individually, I mentioned it, but what you don’t know is how I got out of it.

I’m not even sure when it started getting really bad, but I was forced to take time off work.

I had a month off, and all I was doing every day was spiraling about every little thing.

My head was too loud. I wasn't sleeping.

I could barely eat. I felt like I was constantly wrestling with myself, hating how I couldn't seem to get my shit together but desperately wanting to.”

“That must have been hard,” Paige says. “Dealing with that all on your own.”

“She wouldn't have been alone if she had told us about it.” Ella crosses her arms. “We would have been there for you.”

“I know,” I say, wiping a tear from my face. “I started seeing a therapist to help dig myself out of the hole.” I take a deep breath. “She diagnosed me with ADHD, and feel free to tell your partners about this, because I can’t have this conversation with all of them.”

“I don’t know if I’m more surprised about you seeing a therapist or you having ADHD,” Hads tells me.

A small laugh escapes my mouth. “Looking back on everything, my diagnosis makes a lot of sense. It actually annoyed the shit out of me that it took so long to figure out why I operate the way I do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Paige asks me .

“Well, my parents always thought I was a lazy, unmotivated kid.

I did okay in school, but I disrupted class a lot.

I couldn't seem to slow my brain down. I was always talking over other kids and teachers.

My parents didn't know what to do with me.

I didn't have a lot of energy, and I got distracted easily when we did things as a family, so they sort of gave up. As I got into my teenage years, I became more forgetful. I’d start to clean my room, then get distracted by something else.

I never slept because my mind wouldn't turn off, and I never wanted to talk to them about what I was feeling because they would just tell me to try harder at focusing.”

Paige squeezes my hand.

“And when they outlined my life to follow the path they wanted, I just accepted it.

Until I got to college and realized I couldn't focus in class and I hated what I was studying because it wasn't something I was interested in. When I switched to journalism, I felt better because I was actually interested in the material, but I still couldn't focus. I forced myself to do my best, and thankfully, I did fine in my classes. It just felt like it took me longer than others to do simple assignments that should have taken all of fifteen minutes. I thought that was just who I was. Now I know that’s just the way my brain works, but it was really fucking hard back then.”

I look up at all of them, three understanding faces look back at me.

“My entire life I felt disorganized, and I leaned into these stupid quirks because I thought that was just who I was. Amelia the bolter. Amelia the girl who runs away from everything. Amelia the girl who can’t ever sleep.

Amelia the mess. I was wrestling between two versions of myself at all times—one of them being the ADHD side of me and the other the side of me who wanted so badly to be put together. ”