She had a way of treating Jenna's bad behavior like a personality quirk instead of a problem, but I'd always been polite. I'd always assumed she meant well. I knew better now. Rachel, I said, keeping my voice neutral. I'm at work.
I know, I know. This will only take a second. She didn't sound sorry. She sounded impatient. Look, I'm calling because someone needs to talk some sense into you.
Jenna is a mess. A complete and total mess. She's not eating. She's not sleeping. She's crying all the time.
And frankly, Liam, it's your fault. I leaned back in my chair. My fault? Yes, your fault. Rachel's voice sharpened.
She made one tiny mistake. One. And you just What, disappeared? Blocked her on everything? That's not how adults handle conflict.
A real man would forgive her. A real man would at least hear her out. I let the silence stretch. Are you still there? Rachel demanded.
I'm here." "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" I thought about it for a moment. I could have listed everything Jenna had done. I could have explained the humiliation, the dismissal, the way she'd physically pushed me out of a booth so another man could take my place.
I could have told Rachel about the comfortable chapter line, about the boring dig, about the way Jenna had looked at Mark like he was a sunrise and I was a lamp she'd forgotten to turn off. But Rachel already knew all of that. Jenna had definitely told her. And Rachel had still chosen to call me and frame it as my failure. So I didn't explain.
"She's your family problem now," I said, "not mine. Don't call again." I hung up before she could respond. The phone rang again 30 seconds later. I didn't answer.
It rang a third time. I forwarded it to voicemail and got back to work. That weekend, Jenna showed up at my door. I knew it was her before I looked through the peephole. I could hear her breathing on the other side.
Fast, shallow, like she'd been running or crying or both. I stood there in my living room, hand hovering over the deadbolt, and felt a strange, quiet calm settle over me. She knocked. Soft at first, then harder. "Liam, I know you're in there.
Your car is in the lot." I didn't move. "Please," she said through the door. Her voice was hoarse. "Please just open up.
I need to see you. I need to explain." Silence. "I was stupid, okay?" She was crying now.