Conflict of Interest

Chapter Thirty Three

Carrie

It was almost like an apparition. It appeared, and disappeared just as quickly. Once it was gone, it was gone. That was her smile, that insecure smile that only accompanied downcast eyes and a hand through the hair. She acted like she didn't deserve to smile, and I felt much the same. She understood that part of me, though the insecurity that formed itself into endearing idiosyncrasies on her, just manifested itself in me as arrogance.

She fastened the suitcase shut, shrugged her shoulders and stared at it.

"I can't wait for you forever, you know."

"You don't have to," I assured her. "Just three months. Then I'll visit."

"Maybe I should visit," she considered. "No need to involve your parents."

"I like the way you think," I smiled, holding her face in both hands to kiss her as she brought her arms to rest around my waist. "Someday we won't have to do this anymore."

"You mean someday you'll marry me?" she idealized.

I laughed. "Someday that'll be legal in the state of Connecticut."

"Yeah," she scoffed. "We'll see about that."

"As soon as I finish school," I began to promise. "Eighteen months from now, we can go anywhere, do anything."

"You mean that?"

"Sure," I said. "I'm going places, you know. And I guarantee I want you coming with me."

I'm positive that was the last promise I'd ever made, and the first I'd ever broken.

***

Kim

"But the thing that bothers me most is that she hasn't called yet to apologize. You know? She's in the wrong here, she is. She doesn't know where I went last night. She couldn't give me benefit of the doubt. She picked a fight. She should be begging for me back. It should be the responsibility of the party who was in the wrong to initiate the apology stage. It's just how it works."

I couldn't do anything but laugh. Poor narcissistic Carrie had no idea how apologies worked. I often got the feeling that she'd been institutionalized by being pretty. She didn't know how to win someone back because she'd never had to; they always crawled, unsolicited, and on all fours.

"Maybe," I tried. "And I know I'm being radical here, so bear with me."

"Mhm."

"Maybe, you should apologize."

She made a face as though what I was saying truly were radical.

"On what grounds?" she demanded.

"I don't know, for omitting information, for keeping secrets, for lying to her..."

"Bull shit," she protested. "What is this fallacy wherein I'm expected to report to someone where I am every minute of every day just because we're having sex?"

"You're more than having sex, Carrie."

"Well, actually, we're now less than having sex."

"Okay, fine, don't apologize," I decided. "Have it your way. We'd all love to see how long you can go without getting laid."

"Yes, let's make a show of my misery," she deadpanned. "See the newest exhibit at the Met, entitled Sexually Frustrated Carrie."

"So this is what you've been reduced to. Choosing between your two great loves."