One of my closest friends—someone I always thought of as a brother—has cut me out completely. I sit there in stunned silence, the phone slipping from my hand.
“What’s wrong?” Timmy’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Sven… he just blocked me.” My voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “Because of you.”
Timmy shrugs, his expression remaining maddeninglyneutral. “Fuck that guy,” he says, his arm draping around my shoulders with a casual possessiveness. “He just wanted to bang you, anyway. I didn’t like you talking to him. It’s much better this way.”
His words twist inside me like a dull knife. I know Timmy doesn’t like Sven. That much was obvious. But hearing him dismiss someone who meant so much to me—someone I thought would always have my back—feels surreal.
Timmy’s hand moves to my chin, tilting my face toward his. “Now at least you know who your real friends are. Like me.” He smiles, his blue eyes sparkling, as if Sven blocking me is some sort of gift. “I’m your real best friend.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I try to swallow it down. Part of me knows this is all wrong—knows that a best friend, a real friend, wouldn’t try to isolate me from the people I care about, wouldn’t relish in me getting cut off by yet another member of my support system. But the other part of me is so exhausted, so worn down by the constant push and pull, that it feels easier to let Timmy’s words sink in.
Sven did overreact—there’s no question there. Maybe Timmy is right—maybe Sven had ulterior motives, and maybe it is better to cut ties with people who can’t accept the choices I’m making. But it still hurts. The wound feels raw, and I know it won’t heal easily.
Timmy pulls me closer, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “It’s just you and me, babe. We don’t need anyone else. I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. That’s all that matters.”
The warmth of his arms around me should feel reassuring, but instead, it feels heavy. Suffocating. Like a weight I can’t seem to shrug off, no matter how hard I try. I sit, frozen, trying to convince myself that this is okay.
That I don’t need anyone else. That Timmy is enough.
But deep down, something feels fractured. Sven’s words echo in my mind—“I’m so upset with you.” And all I can do is sit with the uneasy knowledge that the people I love are slipping away from me, one by one, and I don’t know how to stop it. I get the sense that they feel helpless, with me so far away, knowing I’m in a situation thatmaybe isn’t as good for me as it once felt. Powerless to do anything but watch from a distance and hope for the best—that I either snap out of it myself, or that they were wrong in their assessment and things are better than they fear.
I shift slightly under Timmy’s arm, and he tightens his grip, as if sensing my discomfort. “We’re good, Margaux,” he whispers. “It’s just us. That’s all you need.”
I nod, more for his benefit than mine. But inside, I feel like I’m slowly disappearing, fading into the version of myself that Timmy wants me to be. And I wonder how much of me will be left by the time this is all over.
I find myself pulling away from all but my closest friends.
I’m embarrassed about what happened, nervous about anyone knowing that the person who attacked me is still in my life.
I don’t post many pictures of us together online, preferring to keep them private. As if—instead of being someone I’m proud of and want to share with the world—Timmy is my guilty secret.
This is out of my typical behavior—I’d usually be blasting my love far and wide.
But nothing feels very typical anymore.
86
A LEAP OF FAITH
We take a drive to the opposite end of the coast, because Timmy wants to show me a few new beaches and maybe check out some board shorts and hats in the surf shops to understand the trending designs.
As soon as we get to the small town, I notice Timmy staring intently at a metal bridge right beside the welcome sign. The sun is already dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows over the water. The bridge’s high arches loom over the rippling surface. Usually, seeing water brings me calm, but Timmy’s been agitated, edgy today, as if something is on his mind.
I see Timmy staring at the bridge with an intensity I haven’t seen since he first met me, and with a sinking feeling, I realize I know what he’s about to say before he says it.
“Can I jump off the bridge?” He points to a little space to the side of the road where the truck could fit. “Please? We could just park over there. I’ll only take a minute.” His voice carries a familiar hint of excitement.
“No, Timmy,” I frown, my stomach twisting into a knot. Not this again. Not now. “You said you’d stopped jumping off bridges now.That it’s dangerous, remember? You said that now you’re with me, you valued your life more and so you wouldn’t do it again.”
I truly believed him when he said those things. That being with me was more important than a reckless fixation.
But he pouts as I speak, his brow furrowing like a two-year-old being denied a second cookie. “You’re so fucking controlling. I’m a grown-ass man. I should be able to jump off a stupid fucking bridge. Plus, it’s not even that big of a bridge. And I brought my Superman cape and everything.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, like the cape is going to somehow make him fly.
I shake my head. “No I’m not. You promised me you wouldn’t do something. That thing happens to be really dangerous. I believed your promise, and so—no. I’m not going to be complicit in you breaking that promise. You need to respect my boundaries, or why tell me anything at all? I’ll just stop believing a word you say.”