Page 37 of This Is Who I Am

ESTELLE

Hunter looks a bit worse for wear. Bobby hugs me as though I’m his long-lost sister.

“How’s Cass?” I ask him. “Have you seen her?”

“We got wasted with her at The Bay last night. She’s not doing well,” Bobby says. “Is there really nothing we can do to fix this?”

“We’re working on it.” Devon shoots me an encouraging smile.

Perhaps I’m most surprised that I’m here, with Cass’s friends, while she’s not.

“Where’s your guest of honor?” Hunter asks.

“She texted last night that she wouldn’t make it home and that I shouldn’t worry,” Sadie chimes in. “With Bijou, you never know.”

“She’s still not home? And she knew we were coming?” Bobby nods purposefully. “I know what that means.”

We all sit down. Drinks are poured and it reminds me so much of that brunch a few weeks ago, when Cass and I were still full of potential. My stomach twists, not just because of the pain of breaking up, but because of what I promised Devon I would do after lunch. Because I’m going to see Cass.

A few minutes later, the gate swings open. A tiny woman, her hair still wet from the shower, walks toward us with her hands held up in apology.

“I’m so incredibly sorry.”

“Walk of shame, girl,” Bobby shouts.

“Calling it a walk of shame is so incredibly misogynistic,” the woman, who must be Bijou, says. “But I won’t get into that right now because, frankly, I’m too tired after the night I had.” She fans her face theatrically.

“My husband sincerely apologizes,” Hunter interjects.

“Where did you even meet someone in Clearwater Bay?” Bobby asks.

“Well…” It’s as though Bijou only now clocks me. “Hi.” She walks toward me. “I’m Bijou. I was Sadie’s makeup artist on King & Prince for many amazing years.” She extends her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bijou.” I shake her hand.

She slides into the empty chair between Sadie and me.

Devon pours her a drink while Bobby raps his knuckles on the table and says, “Spill, spill, spill.”

“I ended up at this bar by the beach and there was this woman. All alone. Nursing a broken heart.”

My stomach clenches.

“We got talking and hit it off and, oh my god!” Bijou tilts her head back. “She had some stuff to work through and she worked it all out on me, in the best way possible.”

“Um, Bijou,” Bobby says. “What was her name?”

Please don’t say it, I think. Please don’t say her name.

“Cass.” Bijou’s voice is rich with unbearable smugness. “She owns the restaurant on the cliff.”

Something inside me collapses, probably that last tendril of hope Devon wanted me to hold onto.

“I’m—um.” I rise and my chair tips backward onto the floor. “I’m not feeling well. I’m sorry. I can’t stay for lunch.”

Devon is quick to stand. “Come with me,” she instructs but it’s as though I’ve already used up all my remaining energy just by getting out of that chair. Sadie rises as well and gently leads me into the house.

“Was it something I said?” I hear Bijou ask outside.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Sadie says.

“I understand you can’t stay. I’ll walk you home,” Devon holds me by the elbow, as though I might topple over like that chair. “Fucking Bijou,” she mutters under her breath.

But this is hardly Bijou’s fault. Although her words will be etched in my brain for a long time to come: She had some stuff to work through and she worked it all out on me.

“Are you okay to walk?” Devon asks. “I can drive you. Big emotions like that can really hit you in the knees.”

“I need to walk,” I say. And I need to get the fuck out of here.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Devon and Sadie exchange the kind of glance I will never exchange with anyone—least of all Cass.

“Cass is free to do whatever she wants,” I mumble.

Devon hooks her arm through mine. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that. Maybe it’s nobody’s fault, but it was still cruel. I’m sorry for that.”

“I can’t go to her now.” My voice is as wobbly as my knees.

“No, I get that.” We walk in silence, because what’s left to say after this? After life so adequately showed me why Cass and I can’t be together. At least she got what she wanted.

“I should probably tell Cass that you heard. We’re all friends and I’d like to keep it that way.” Devon curls her fingers around my arm. “Cass is hurting, too. You both are.”

“Do whatever you need to do.” Tears gather in the corners of my eyes.

“And you’re coming to surf club tomorrow. I’ll drop by and pick you up myself.”

“I don’t know, Dev.” I’m not sure about a lot of things. Or maybe I am. Maybe it’s time to make a decision. Maybe it’s time to move on.

“I’ll drop by regardless.” When I leave, I’ll probably miss Devon the most. And Sadie’s surf lessons. And Bobby’s hugs. And Hunter’s bigheartedness. Suzy’s delicious directness. And Cass… she would be the main reason to leave.

“I can stay a while,” Devon offers when we’ve arrived at my dad’s house.

“Thanks, but I’d rather be alone right now.”

“Hey.” Devon’s gaze finds mine. “This isn’t on you. You are who you are and there’s nothing wrong with that.” She sends me a smile. “I think you’re wonderful and I hope to see you tomorrow.”

* * *

The next afternoon, I go to Cass’s house. Not to have that open-minded, openhearted conversation Devon and I discussed, but to tell Cass in person something she deserves to hear from me.

I’m not angry at her because we’re incompatible.

That would be like being angry at August because he’s a cat that wants breakfast first thing in the morning.

I’m angry at myself for fooling myself into believing she and I could be something—that things could be different.

Which only resulted in an extra scar on my heart.

When she lets me in, her eyes are red-rimmed and her cheeks blotchy. She doesn’t look surprised to see me.

“I’m sorry,” she says, as we walk into the kitchen. August rubs himself against my shin instantly. “Devon told me about what Bijou said. I’m so sorry. Obviously, I never meant for that to happen.”

“It’s okay.” I wave off her comment because I don’t want our conversation to go in that direction. I’d prefer to forget about Bijou altogether as soon as possible. Not because I’m jealous, although, strangely, I am. But because she could give Cass what I couldn’t and that stings.

“It’s not okay.” Cass shakes her head. “It’s mortifying.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Cass repeats back to me. “Because…” She huffs out some air instead of giving me a reason.

“It’s just how things are.” It’s so painful to stand across from her. Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it.

“Can we talk, please?” Cass takes two glasses from the cupboard. “Is water okay or do you want something stronger?”

“Water’s fine.”

Even when she’s just pouring water into a glass, the kitchen is Cass’s domain to such an extent she does it with enviable aplomb—with an assuredness she sometimes lacks outside of her comfort zone.

“Come.” She walks us into the living room and I choose the chair that has become my favorite.

“I’ve come to tell you something,” I start as soon as we sit down, because I don’t want her getting any ideas in her head. “I’m leaving town.”

“You are?” Her eyes widen, and there’s a hint of panic in her voice.

“It’s too painful to stay now,” I say.

“Because of me?”

I nod. “The Bijou incident made two things clear to me.” I take a sip of water. “First, that I can’t give you what you need, which I already knew, but I guess it’s good to have confirmation.”

“Estelle, no—” Cass starts to say, but I hold up my hand to cut her off.

“And that it really fucking hurts to hear about you being with someone else, even though, obviously, you are free to do whatever you want with whomever you want. I just don’t want to hear about it. I can’t.”

Cass rubs her hands over her face, leaving her cheeks even redder than before. “I don’t even know how it happened. The guys left and I was drunk and then, out of the blue, there she was. I just…” She shrugs as though she genuinely can’t fathom it. “I don’t just sleep with people like that.”

“It doesn’t matter, Cass.” I rub my palms on my jeans. “I just wanted to tell you in person that I’m leaving.”

“Are you going back to Berkeley?” she asks.

“To start with.”

“Back to work?”

“I don’t know.” Clearwater Bay has been such a safe haven for me in the aftermath of my father’s death and my burnout. “Probably not for a while.”

“But, ba—” Cass misspeaks and the tension in the room goes up another notch. “You don’t have to leave on my account. I thought you loved it here. You’ve made friends.”

“ Your friends,” I interject.

“We can be civil with each other. We’re adults.”

“Seeing you all the time would just remind me of… what I can’t have.”

“For the record, you can have me .” Is that a joke? I’m unsure and in no mood to chuckle.

“You know what I mean. This is your town and…” The first tears stir behind my eyes.

“Estelle, please, listen to me.” Cass leans her elbows on her knees, tilting toward me. “I know I was a hormonal rage monster last weekend and I shouldn’t have said what I said. It’s obviously a massive trigger for you and I understand, but… I wasn’t myself. Surely, you could see that.”

“I heard what I heard and I saw what I saw.” Time to rebuild that wall around my heart. But, damn those tears leaking from my eyes.

“Why won’t you just… yield a little bit on this? Why can’t we talk this through?”

This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. Another discussion about this. “Because, when it comes down to it, you can’t really accept me for who I am.”

“Says who?” She brings a finger to her chest. “I’ve never said that.” Cass actually rolls her eyes.

“You don’t have to say it for me to know.”

“No way.” She scoffs. “I’m not letting you get away with this.” She takes a breath then lifts her gaze to meet mine. “I want you. I’m in love with you. And I choose you, no matter what.”

“No, you don’t.” The tears in my eyes have all but dried up. “First chance you got, you jumped into bed with someone else.”

“After you dumped me, so that’s hardly fair.”

“I can’t un-hear what she said?—”

“Estelle.” Cass’s voice is sharp like a knife. “You are using me as an excuse not to deal with your own fear.”

“Maybe, but...” I push myself out of my chair. This is definitely not what I came here for. “I still can’t do it.”

“I’m glad you can at least admit to that.” Cass gazes up at me. “That you’re the one who can’t do it.” She looks away. “At least we’re clear on that,” she mumbles.

August zigzags between my legs, stopping me from rushing out the door. I know Cass is kind of right, but it doesn’t change anything.

“Bye, Cass,” I say before I stumble into the hallway.

“I might be menopausal, but at least I’m not a coward,” Cass shouts behind me. It’s just her voice, though. There’s no sign of her as I walk out of the door.