I wring my fingers against each other in internal agony. My heart rises in my chest, and I can see the rhythm of my heartbeat, fading rapidly from dark to light before my eyelids. I want more than anything not to say what I have to say, right in this moment, right now.
"I'm moving…" I utter quietly, not sure if she can even hear me from across the table. The restaurant is crowded and noisy, but my tiny words echo in my ears, beating my head like a tympani. She pauses, mid-bite, and sluggishly lowers her fork. Her grey-green eyes widen as her jaw drops slightly. She quickly snaps her mouth closed. I don't know if it was for shock, or to prevent food from falling out, but either way, the alarm was undeniable. Yeah, she heard me.
"Wait, like -- moving out? Moving away? Moving on?" Her tone of voice and hand gestures become increasingly loud with each fleeting question. I can almost see the gears whirring in her brain as she attempts to place this new information in some way that it makes sense.
After all, we only really have each other. I consider myself as having two friends, but she is the only one who still lives remotely close. Everyone else has moved away and on with their happy simplistic lives, caring only about finals, or that guy they kissed when they drank those beers with those people. She was the only one who
really understood the agony of being stuck at home, with our parents, with our daughters, alone and bored and friendless. Except for each other, anyways.
"Yeah," I start hesitantly, "My mom got a new job in Houston. It will be roughly three months before anything permanent happens, but -- I just thought you should know. She asked me not to tell anyone, but -- Yeah, I just had to tell you." I place my hands in my lap, like a child waiting for a lecture, or a punishment of some sort. She isn't the type to take big news lightly.
She surprises me though.
"Oh." Bits of moisture collect in the corner of her eyes, and she shakes her head and adjusts her hair. "Well, that's better than being kicked out of your house, I guess." She avoids eye contact, and shuffles around her fork, the basket of chips, the salsa bowl, her plate: looking at everything except me.
"Hey, look at me, please." I stare intensely, waiting for her to look up. When she does, "I'll be back a lot. We still have visitation with freaking baby daddy, and you're here! I'm going to come back every chance I get, okay? I would move out and just stay here, if I had the means to, but you know better than anyone that I don't," I pause, thinking frantically of a way to lighten the mood. "We'll always be name twins, though," I tack on as a feeble attempt at a joke, hoping desperately for her to crack a smile. "We have three whole months, we just have to hang out more before I go!"
"We could go karaoke?" she mumbles, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. I nod enthusiastically in response. She lets out a giant part-sigh, part-grumble and adjusts her hair again. "I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry. This is our night out, and I'm not gonna cry." She flashes a smile at me. Her eyes still glisten, ever so slightly, but I can tell she will hold true to her words.
I reach across the table and pat the top of her hand with mine. I quickly retract my arm, and stare at my hand with mock disgust.
"Oh my God, that's the hand you wiped your nose with!! Ugh, now I'm gonna need a baby wipe." I tease her playfully.
She laughs too, and says, "I'm really gonna miss you, Ashley."
