RAE
Zoe texts me when Steven and I are power-walking to the food trucks that gather in downtown Salt Lake every Thursday. His meeting let out late, and weâre trying to beat the noon rush. Itâs very serious business.
The lines morph from little worms to massive anacondas snaking around the plaza the second the clock hits 12:01.
Zoe
Family meeting tonight. I have wine and scones. Love ya, Rae-bae.
When âbaeâ became a thing fourteen million years ago, Zoe coined the nickname Rae-bae. I hated it. I still do, kind of, but itâs our thing now, and it makes me smile. Scones also make me smile. Itâs a peace offering.
Rae
Love ya more. Sounds good. Should I pick anything up on the way home?
Zoe
Nope. I come prepared.
At least one of us has her shit together.
Family meetings in Elmwood Square Apartments, unit 415, are serious conversations between Zoe Bridges (fun fact, sheâs a structural engineer and her last name is Bridges) and Rae Olson.
They donât happen all that often, mainly because Zoe is strongly averse to any emotion that isnât elation or anger.
The moment I step inside, Zoe hands me a wine glass filled halfway. Weâre normally pour-to-the-brim-type people, so this means that the conversation is ~super serious~.
âI want to know what youâre feeling,â she announces.
âAlright,â I agree. I spill. I tell Zoe about how Jakeâs betrayal is killing me from within.
How the man I lovedâthe man I wanted to marry and father my future childrenâthrew me away after two years like it was nothing. How, because to him, ~I~ was nothing.
How he walked out of my life without so much as an apology or a late night âyou up?â text. How Iâll never delude myself into believing Iâm deserving of love ever again.
I wipe my tears, and I spill some more. I tell Zoe how Michael creeps me out but is immensely talented, as in, talented to the point that I forget about Jake for a half hour every night.
How Iâm totally crushing on Logan but probably shouldnât because he sees me as a charity project, someone who needs to be comforted and healed. How ~everyone~ sees me as a charity project.
What itâs like to be a walking, sort of talking no-judgment-zone.
Everything. I tell her everything. I cry and chug my too-small glass of wine. I stuff four scones into my mouth in the span of ten minutes.
Then, itâs Zoeâs turn. âRemember when Nana died?â
I nod. Zoeâs grandmother passed away during our senior year of college. Zoe was devastated. She doesnât have the best relationship with her parents, and she spent most of her childhood at Nanaâs house.
âI never would have coped if I didnât have you. I needed your help with that because Iâm shit at dealing with pain and emotions. Youâre shit at dealing with shit people. Itâs okay to need help with that.â
âBut Iâm shit at dealing with all people,â I argue.
âYou get uncomfortable around people you donât know well. Thatâs normal. It just takes longer for you to lower your inhibitions and walls, but once you do, youâre an amazing friend and funny as fuck.
âThatâs why you ~do~ deserve love and happiness and all the good shit Jake couldnât give you because ~he~ was weak and immature.â
I dive at Zoe because I believe her. We hug and jump in each otherâs arms. Sheâs even sniffling a bit when we break apart, and Zoe doesnât cry. Like she said, Zoe doesnât do emotions.
âI swear to God, your phone is more powerful than my vibrator,â she grumbles, glaring at an incoming text from Michael thatâs causing a mini-earthquake on our counter.
I groan. Not at her vibrator comment. At the text.
Michael
Having a dance party up there without me?ð
I show Zoe the message, and she pretends to vomit. I nod in agreement.
âI should end it now.â I pause, frowning at the thought. âAre we casual enough to break things off over text?â Okay, clearly I do need Zoeâs help in the dealing-with-difficult-people department.
âYes, but you should do it in person anyway. Here in 415, not at his place. I donât like him. Iâm not saying you canât do it yourself, but heâs jacked, and someone should be around if he tries something.â
I accept the help and draft a text Zoe says is fine to send.
Rae
No dance parties, haha. I actually wanted to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes to come up to my apartment?
Michael
Why do you want to talk?
Zoe coaches me through the rest of the conversation.
Rae
Nothing big, was just hoping to talk.
Michael
About what?
Rae
I wanted to talk in person if youâre available?
Michael
K. Iâll be there in five.
Zoe ducks into her bedroom and assures me that she has my back. A couple of minutes later, Michael pounds on the door like heâs trying to break it down. With shaky hands, I turn the knob to reveal a grimacing Michael.
My voice wavers when I invite him onto the couch, and everything I planned to say disappears from my mind.
âWhat did you want to talk about?â he asks, a hint of anger in his voice.
âI donât want us to see each other anymore,â I blurt out.
His eyes flash.
âIt was really fun, but Iââ
âIt didnât sound like you wanted to end things last night when you were screaming my name.â
âLike I said, it was fun, butââ
âYouâre making a mistake. You canât do better than me, Rae. Youâre so fucking weird. Iâve been doing you a favor, and this is how you repay me?â
If I were Zoe, I would order him to shut the fuck up and show him where the door is. I might even slap him for dramatic effect. Iâm Rae, though, so my eyes fill up with tears, and I tell him that Iâm sorry.
âYouâre pathetic,â he spits. âI can do so much better, but Iâve beenââ
I donât deserve this, not if Zoe was telling the truth about my worth, and I think she was. âGet out,â I say quietly.
âDid you just fucking interrupt me?â he demands, as if he hasnât been cutting me off every sentence.
âYes. Leave, Michael.â
âI donât think I will.â
âMichaelââ
âNo.â His fingers wrap around my wrist.
I swallow, suppressing a chill. I donât like the way heâs touching me. Not one bit. âThen Iâll call the police.â
âNo, you wonât. Youâre too shy to make a fucking phone call. They wonât even understand all your stammering.â His words are intended to sting, and they do.
Probably even more than he intends, and heâs definitely trying to inflict a lot of pain.
That doesnât mean Iâm going to let him win. I inhale deeply and pull out my phone, which Michael promptly pulls from my hands, sneering, âI donât think so.â
Yelling Zoeâs name takes all my courage.
Sheâs not so easily fazed by Michaelâs intimidation techniques. In fact, sheâs already talking to the 911 operator.
âThereâs a man in my apartment who wonât leave. He took my roommateâs phone when she tried to call 911 herself.â
She pauses, listening to the other line. âI donât know his last name, but his first name is Michael, and I have his address.â
Michael stands abruptly, throws my phone into the couch, barely missing my head, and stomps out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
âHe just left,â Zoe says. âThanks so much. Iâll call if he comes back.â She turns to me after hanging up the phone. âYou did amazing, Rae-bae.â
I did. I did do amazing.