Keyframe

Somebody I That Used to Know

"But you didn't have to cut me off,

make out like it never happened and that we were nothing.

And I don't even need your love,

but you treat me like a stranger, and that feels so rough."

- "Somebody That I Used to Know," Gotye ft. Kimbra (2011)

Jordan

Tradition has always served as the rulebook for my life—a holy text I followed just as faithfully as I did unquestioningly. I grew up knowing exactly what my life would look like from the moment I gained consciousness: elite prep school, Harvard, a business degree, and a seat at my father's table when I was old enough. Perfect grades. Complete domination of any leadership opportunity available. Making Lillian Bennett Lillian Dawson and having at least two children to follow in my footsteps.

Needless to say, that roadmap got a little less straightforward the day I finally realized that Lily wasn't coming back—that such a large piece of the future I counted on was gone. Just like that. Of course I'm still a traditionalist, but certain things about the Dawson playbook just don't feel right to me anymore. I think I still want what I was promised: power, independence, a family. But I plan on achieving that through my own means—not a blind adherence to tradition.

Yet, now that I'm back home dressing up for a traditional alumni brunch for the traditional high school that my family traditionally goes to, I can't help but feel a strange sense of deja vu. If I didn't find the Bennetts in California, maybe I'd be foaming at the mouth to step into my old life again. But reconnecting with my second family has changed the way I view my first one, giving me the confidence to not come running back to where I'm comfortable.

Or who I'm comfortable with.

I adjust my navy suit jacket after fastening my watch, glancing over at Asher when I hear my phone buzz again. He rolls his eyes from his spot on my Victorian chaise, but he still picks it up from my side table to check it for me yet again.

"Maddie. She's...deciding which pearls to wear." He scoffs, placing the phone back in its spot before returning to his Switch. "Glad she's keeping us updated."

The Cabinet has been blowing up my phone all morning, discussing dress code, whose car is picking up who, and all the current events that we missed out on while away for school. It's all the usual suspects: Madeline, Arden, and Valerie. But, as I expected, there's not a peep from Alex.

I don't even bother to ask him if he's coming—I'm sure he'd rather staple his tongue to a moving train than be civil to me for a few hours. And, although I don't blame him for wanting to avoid the memories that may be resurrected from being around everyone again, I can't say I understand his hostility. Yes, I'm friends with Lily, but holding that against me is just getting childish at this point. I mean, if he honestly thinks I'd try to get her back, wouldn't I have done it already?

Sometimes I wish that he'd be the version of himself that I used to know—curse me out, or yank me into a fist fight, or even attempt to implode my life from a distance. At least then we'd have a clear point from which to start rebuilding. But after his brief slip on Christmas Eve, he just seems so...bored with me, regarding me with indifference and annoyance rather than the intense emotions that used to characterize our routine fallings-out. We've been friends, rivals, and even enemies, but, just a few months shy of twenty years together, we're something we've never been before. Strangers.

"Burberry or Valentino?"

I turn to Ash, holding up both pairs of dress shoes, and the look he shoots me lets me know that the brand names are lost on him. He opens his mouth anyway, but, before anything can leave it, his eyes shift to the door and his face goes completely pale.