It would be another four years before she came to stay with me and my new baby girl, Lauren. Wendy was… well… Wendy was supposed to be my babysitter when that happened. My little helper. Someone to keep me sane, on loan from Chek to help me get through those rough early days when all Lauren wanted to do was wail in protest about her early bad luck.
But Wendy was way more than that.
And look, I’m not saying it was the ideal situation or anything—I mean, relying on a nine-year-old to be your best friend is the epitome of selfishness—but it was what it was and I have no regrets.
Wendy Gale has been my best friend for almost thirteen years now.
She has been more than my best friend for two years.
We are a team. We work well together. We get shit done.
And I get that part too. This isn’t your typical love story because Wendy and me, we’re not your typical people.
But make no mistake, this is a love story.
We were just born into something beyond our control and we’ve spent our entire lives trying our best to break it apart.
But here’s the problem with breaking things… in the end, they’re broken.
And yeah, I know. I know what you’re thinking. I’m stating the obvious. This is how shit works, Nick. We all know that when you drop a piece of glass it shatters. And we all intuitively understand that things are very, very messy when it’s over.
Fine. Agreed. I get it.
This is a fucking mess.
And there is no real way to put broken shit back together without lots of cracks.
But I don’t mind the cracks. Wendy doesn’t mind the cracks, either.
That’s why we’re so good together. We kinda love the cracks.
Wendy still hasn’t gotten out of the truck and I haven’t moved from the living room window. There’s a chance she just backs up and drives away, but she’s here now. And it’s been a while, so I think she’s staying. She’s just having the same pointless internal monologue as me.
Wondering if this is… what? Normal? Satisfying? Enough? As good as it gets?
That’s not what I’m wondering, obviously. Every time we see each other after a long absence like this I replay how terrible I am. How she needs anyone else but me. How I don’t deserve her, how I’m going to ruin her, and how it’ll probably be me who gets her killed in the end.
And yet here I am. Every single time.
But that’s not what she’s thinking about. She has no baggage when it comes to these visits. It’s all very in the moment. Temporary. You know, like… a salve. I’m something soothing to her. Tea, or comfort food, or a warm blanket.
She thinks she’s using me. She’s told me this. But that’s not why she hesitates in her truck.
She hesitates because she thinks she is my number two. Or three, maybe. Sasha, in Wendy’s mind, will always be my one true love. And in a different way, Lauren will always be my second.
Wendy hesitates because she thinks she is the only thing I have left.
She hesitates because she thinks that I would walk away from her if I could have Sasha and Lauren back. And the fact that Sasha and Lauren are together—that Sasha has raised my daughter as her own for all these years—that’s just something Wendy can’t get past.
If she invests her heart with me, she could lose it so quick. So fast.
In her mind, I am one easy decision from walking out on her for good.
She really thinks this. And yet here she is.
Because I’m all she has left too.
But unlike her, I don’t take this personally. If I wasn’t all she had left, she wouldn’t be here.
And anyway, we’re not just best friends and occasional lovers. We’re a real fuckin’ team. And when we do a job, we do it right.
I meet her here so we can hang out. We kick back, we cook some food, maybe go out to dinner a couple times, we laugh—or cry—and we sleep together like we’re normal. We lie in bed and talk, and fuck, and sleep. It’s all very normal.
But it’s also all very temporary.
You see, we can’t be together. Not for any length of time.
It’s all so very complicated.
Her truck door opens and she steps out, leaning back into the cab to grab something, which I see is a backpack once she closes the door. She pauses and her eyes find mine in the window. She sucks in a deep breath, then walks towards the porch. I meet her at the open door and I have the same thoughts every time this happens.
I want her to fall into my arms.
I want her to melt into me, and kiss me hard, and admit that she has been miserable since our last meeting.