The Other Side of Tomorrow

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I have a fitful night of sleep—due in part to my own anxieties and the fact that Meredith currently hates my guts.

At seven in the morning, I finally get up and shower, knowing sleep is a lost cause at this point. I dress in a pair of ripped jeans with the bottoms rolled up, a striped top, and my white Converse sneakers. The house is quiet, no one else up yet, so I write a note and head out.

I drive around for a little while, my windows rolled down with my hair whipping around my shoulders, and allow myself to think.

Eventually, I stop at one of Meredith and my favorite breakfast joints and order us each an egg and cheese sandwich on a croissant as well as coffee. I grab the paper bag when it’s ready and place our coffees in a drink carrier so I don’t have to worry about spilling them on the way to my car.

I reach my car and set everything inside, making sure there’s no chance it can go flying.

On the drive to Meredith’s house, I think about what I should say or do, but nothing sounds good enough and in the end, I decide to roll with it and hope for the best.

Twenty minutes later I park outside her Spanish-style house. The landscaping is pristine thanks to the company who comes once a week to mow and maintain everything.

I take a breath, bracing myself for her possible wrath. I’d deserve it.

I grab the coffee and bag of food, walking slowly up the walkway to the front door.

Pressing my finger to the doorbell, I wait.

Normally, I’d walk right on in—I have a key.

But not today. I don’t have any right to let myself in uninvited.

The door swings open and Meredith stands there in a fluffy white robe cinched at the waist overtop a pale pink tank and her favorite pair of pajama bottoms with eggs on them.

She sighs and leans against the doorway. “Come to belittle me some more?”

Shaking my head, I hold out the bag of food. “No, just swinging by with a peace offering.” I give the bag a small shake.

She presses her lips together for a second before stepping aside to allow me inside.

Well, at least that’s a good sign.

I follow her through the house and up the curved staircase to her room.

Meredith’s room looks like something straight out of a Pottery Barn magazine. Shiny dark wood floors, gray walls that shimmer when the sunlight hits it, and mismatched furniture that somehow looks cohesive with a Parisian style.

She plops on her unmade bed, leaning back against the tufted headboard.

“Give me the food and coffee and start talking. I expect lots of ‘I’m sorrys’ followed by ‘I love you, Merebitch, and from now on I’ll remember you’re the only bad bitch in this group who can say rude things.’”

I hand her the sandwich and the coffee before sitting on the end of her bed and getting my own food.nbsp;

“I am sorry,” I begin. “So sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I never should have. I know how awful you felt after that and I never should’ve brought it up.”

She looks at me sadly and nods. “Thank you. And … I have a confession to make.”

“What?” I tilt my head.

“I haven’t had sex since then.”

My jaw drops. “Wait … what?”

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t exactly pleasant and made me feel dirty and used, so I haven’t had sex since then.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I can see the depth of emotion in her eyes and understand that this is a very big deal

“But you always have all these crazy stories.”