~ ~ ~
“Hey there roomie!” Lara smiles brightly as I slide into the passenger seat of her Ford Focus. The radiant sun flits in through the windshield and casts flecks of white against her platinum hair. In certain spots it looks like there are pieces of silver glitter.
Lara and I have been best friends since our freshman orientation. I was actually running thirty minutes late and when I walked into the overly packed auditorium, my cheeks were already fifty shades of crimson when I thought about trying to find a seat, and interrupting the dean who had to have noticed me. Then Lara came along. I moved forward slightly and she gripped my forearm, yanking me down into the seat next to her before anyone could highlight my tardiness. She smiled and said, “I just wanted to save you from your impending mortification.” I let out a soft laugh, thanked her, and we’ve been best friends ever since.
“Hi,” I reply softly and buckle my seat belt. When the metal prong clicks into place, I place my purse in my lap and pull the card Satine gave me out of the inner pocket. Just before Lara puts the car in drive, I set the card on her thigh.
She picks it up and examines it. “Satine gave you this?”
“Yeah.”
“She wants you to take self-defense classes?”
“Yeah.”
The smile on Lara's face grows wider and brightens, touching her powder blue eyes. After a second her smile softens and her eyes move back and forth as she takes in the frustrated look on my face. “Are you considering giving it a shot?”
I shrug and look out the window. “I don't know. Maybe.”
“Well, I think you should.” She sets the card on the dash and pulls away from the curb. “I'll even go with you.”
Slouching in my seat, I rest my head against the window. “I don't know, Lara. You know I have issues.” With a lot more than I would care to admit.
This will be a whole gym full of people and not just women, men too. I'm usually okay around women, at least for a little while. But not men. At least not unless I know them.
Lara makes a right hand turn and drives down a narrow one-way road. “I know you have a hard time with crowds, Hadlee, but I'll go with you to the classes. I think that Satine is right and they'll help.”
I love Lara for that. I love her period. Following the attack when I was in the hospital she stayed by side every day and she'd tell me, “I will help you get through this, Hadlee. No matter what it takes I will help you get through this,” she told me.
At the time I tried to protest. “But you have your own life and it's just beginning. I'd hate to—”
She cut me off. “Just stop. I love you. You're my best friend. And I know you'd do the same for me.”
I definitely would, but this has been going on for months. Lara is a half a year ahead of me being that she always takes summer classes. She’ll graduate first. She works at a retail fragrance shop in the mall and I know that's not something she wants to keep doing. I know she wants to get out of here and there are times where I feel like I'm the anchor holding her back from what she wants out of life—from her future. And I'm not sure how much longer she's willing to sacrifice what she wants for me. More than anything I'm not sure how much longer I'm willing to let her.
“I'll try then, I guess.”
“That's my girl,” Lara sighs. “I'll call and find out what days they have classes.”
Lara taps the brake pedal and reaches for her cell in the middle consul. She stops the car just before the driveway of my apartment, and flips the right turn signal on while she dials the number on the card Satine gave me. An echo of the phone ringing fills the confined space, and I tune Lara out as someone on the other end picks up the phone, and she starts talking.
~ ~ ~
“Ouch! Damn it!” I swat at Lara who is behind me and has her fingers tangled in my hair. “Easy! You know I have a sensitive scalp.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters and if I was looking at her I know she’d be rolling those crystalline blue eyes of hers. “Well you’re the one who insisted we change your hair color again.”
I have this thing about coloring my hair. After the attack I thought that maybe if I could continually change something about my appearance it would make me feel like a new person. Make me feel different. I’m pretty sure it’s a mental vice now. “I was tired of being a ginger,” I tell her.
“But gingers have a lot of fun,” she jokes.
I roll my eyes. “That’s what you think. If one more person asks me if the rug matches the carpet, I’m going to scream.” She laughs at my comment and I hear her squirting conditioner into her palm. It spits and sputters like someone blowing air through their closed lips. “Lara?”
“Yes, Lee.”
My lease is up on my apartment in three days and I’ll be going to live with Lara in her condo for a while. I’m glad. First of all, I miss living with her. We stayed in the dorms together sophomore year and had so much fun with our late night girl talks, movies nights, and going to parties together. Secondly, sometimes I feel like my iss
ues with the past year are worse because I’m always alone. “Thanks for letting me move in with you.”