Page 31 of Catch and Cradle
I drag myself out of bed before I can get pulled into the loop again. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I have to stop and laugh. If this whole situation were a joke, the way I look would be the punch line. My hair is a wild, autumnal forest that could easily be concealing several birds and an entire family of squirrels. I forgot my roommates Bailey and Rachelle coerced me into wearing eyeliner last night, and it’s now smeared across the tops of my cheeks and all the way up to my eyebrows. I’m still wearing my shirt from last night over a raggedy pair of plaid pajama shorts.
I let out another snort after doing a full scan of the disaster zone that is my body and then stop to check my phone on the way to the bathroom. There are a couple text alerts, and my stomach lurches when I realize why I feel a flutter of excitement about that.
Even with all the millions of reasons not to staring me straight in the face, I’m still wishing the texts will be from Hope.
I lean against my bedroom’s doorframe and let out a breath of what should be relief—though it feels dangerously close to disappointment—when I see they’re from my best friend Kala. She’s asking if I’m still down to get brunch today.
“Shit,” I mutter. I forgot to text her when her flight got in yesterday. She knew I was at lacrosse practice and couldn’t come to the airport, but I still feel like a shitty friend.
I send her a stream of ‘welcome back to Halifax’ texts filled with an uncharacteristic amount of emojis and let her know brunch is on me. Keeping up a friendship with someone not on the lacrosse team—and thus not bound by its intense schedule—has been difficult since Kala left the team after first year, but she’s my only friend from Calgary at UNS. She’s been one of the most important people in my life since we met on our very first lacrosse team, so we make it work despite all the difficulties of her not being on the UNS team.
And all the reasons she left it.
By the time I get myself cleaned up, put on something presentable, and manage to pile my damp hair up in a bun that looks intentionally messy and not like an actual mess, it’s time to head downtown. I could wait for a bus, but I’d rather spend thirty minutes outside.
Campus is much busier than it has been all week. With the semester starting tomorrow, the streets are filled with moving vans and parents’ cars stuffed with boxes and bins. People are lugging home textbooks fresh from the bookstore and setting up picnics on their lawns so they can sit around greeting their neighbours. The walk calms me down a little, and the closer I get to the waterfront restaurant, the more the smell and sound of the sea work their spell on me.
Still, that’s not enough to fool Kala. After we’ve spotted each other on the sidewalk and made the typical we-spent-a-whole-summer-apart squealing sounds while hugging, she pulls back and raises an eyebrow.
“Seems like we’ve got something to talk about over brunch.”
I don’t bother trying to deny it. When it comes to Kala, I have no secrets, and she’ll get it out of me whether I try to hold back or not. I spend a lot of time with the team, but I don’t have the same heart to hearts with even Rachelle and Bailey that I do with Kala.
I tell her it can wait until we at least get our order in. The hostess leads us out to a table on the ocean-facing patio. A big yellow umbrella blocks out some of the heat that’s building from the morning sun. We’ve been here enough that neither of us needs to look at the menu. This place is cheap and has a great view, which makes it popular with students, locals, and tourists. The patio is almost completely full already, and it’s not even noon.
Our waitress heads off with our order, and Kala leans across the table to stare at me, her dark curtains of chin-length hair falling into her face.
“Becca Moore, are you hungover?”
I am squinting at the light reflecting off the water, and my head is killing me.
“Uh, maybe?”
She sits back. “Yeah, girl! Letting loose for senior year.”
“It’s not really senior year for me,” I remind her. “I still have so many courses if I want to complete my minor, and I have to do a full extra year and stay on the lacrosse team for them to extend my scholarship.”
She huffs. “Like you would ever leave the lacrosse team.”
She laughs like she expects me to join in, but I can’t even force the sound. Just trying makes heat prick the corners of my eyes. I glance away and roll my shoulders back to keep them from slumping, but she’s already noticed something’s wrong.
“Becca? You’ve got to tell me what’s up with you. You’re clearly upset about something.”
I can’t believe I’m about to fucking cry. I have no right to cry about this.
“I...I just...” I stammer as I fight to get myself under control.
“Ah, ah, ah, none of that hiding your feelings bullshit. That doesn’t work on me. I know you too well.”
She knows me better than anyone. I let a few moments of silence pass, filled by the din of clanking plates and chatting diners. Seagulls caw far above our heads.
“I fucked up.” My voice comes out thick and monotone as I stare down at the worn wooden table. “I...I really fucked up. Again.”
“Becca.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my arm for a second. “You’ve got to stop being so hard on yourself about all that.”
I shake my head since the lump in my throat won’t let me answer. It’s been a long time since we’ve really talked about any of this.
“Hey, come on. It’s okay.”