Leading You Home

Alternate Ending #2

Alternate Ending #2: 3 years after the first alternate ending, in which Bradley & Georgia waited for each other...

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"You're running late," Natalie states. "Again."

"I know, I know." How can she think I don't know that? I'm pretty sure she just likes to watch me squirm. While I'm buzzing around the room collecting things for my afternoon class, she sits in her desk chair watching me with disapproval. I know I'm not the most punctual student of all time but she doesn't need to scold me for it.

Snatching a thirty dollar bill off my dresser, I head for the door.

"You don't have time for macarons, Georgia!" she shouts at me. Who does she think she is? My mother?

Throwing her a look over my shoulder, I say, "I always have time for macarons."

As far as roommates go, Natalie is the most frustrating. She's great at paying rent on time and doing her own laundry, but the minute I slip up on anything, she's on me like my Mom when I used to steal her cigarettes.

Out of the apartment, I merge into the crowd of people marching down the sidewalk. I end up next to a man in his mid-forties wearing a suit. He seems to be running late as well, because he keeps glancing down at his watch anxiously. Maybe he should've taken a taxi.

Although, in Manhattan, you can never be too sure how long that taxi ride could be. I'm just glad that campus is only a couple blocks from my apartment. Colombia's tuition was expensive enough, and even though Dad offered to pay for my room and board, I had a hard time letting him do that. Especially since I still had to pay for books.

I turn the corner. The green Ladurée awning is finally coming into view. I leave the anxious business man and cross the street after looking both ways.

Macarons have been my favorite sweets since I was thirteen. Actually, it's an obsession I used to share with my best friend, Carrie. That was before the fallout.

Passing the window, I stare hungrily at the macaron towers. There are so many different flavors my mouth begins to water. Except the pistachio. I have never liked that flavor. Which is ironic, since it was always Carries' favorite.

A few months after living with my Dad in Manhattan, Carrie came to visit. We had a blast. During the day, Dad amazed us by showing us around the city, and at night, we would smash ourselves into the living room and watch movies with my Mom and Molly. Alice even took breaks from her busy college schedule to join us.

Carrie stayed for a whole week, and I can't remember a time I saw her happier. She loved the city. I could see it in her eyes. Maybe it was such a wonderful week because I knew it would probably be the last time I would see Carrie. Because on her last day in Manhattan, I broke her heart.

I'm a coward, I know. I waited until the last possible minute to tell my best friend I fell in love with the love of her life. But I wanted one last week with her. One last week to be her best friend. And now, I keep that week locked away in my memory in a heavy folder labeled bittersweet.

I'll never forget the look she gave me when I dropped the bomb. It was like she had absolutely no idea who I was. I remember her squeezing her chest, obviously losing her ability to breathe properly. It was silent between the two of us for a moment, and it still remains the longest moment of my life. The pain she felt, the betrayal, was stamped all across her body. I never hated myself more than I did in that moment.

She yelled. A little. The worst part was when she wasn't yelling though. It was when she was thinking. Really thinking. I could see the past flooding in her eyes as she recalled all the times I lied to her, all the times I looked her in the eyes and deceived her. At that moment, it wasn't about what her and Bradley shared, it was about what her and I shared, what I shattered and quietly swept under the rug when she wasn't looking.