Molly Weinfurter moved from Milwaukee to Orlando to study creative writing. In her free time she loves to listen to music, walk her dog, and dance. You can follow her on Twitter @mollyw918.
I saw her get in the car after work that night. Into that red Mustang. She told me she wouldn’t get into that car ever again, yet she had appeared to be waiting for him outside. No wonder she had let her brother take her car home. So she could hitch a ride home with that jerk yet again. I couldn’t let her do this anymore. I dropped the broom and raced out just as he sped away. I picked up my phone and immediately dialed her number. Straight to voicemail. That was the last straw. I dashed for my own car and tried my best to keep up with him, but my rusted little Aveo was no match for the speed of the Mustang. But I knew where she lived so I tried my best to follow from a distance.
Until I saw him pull into a parking lot. I knew it. A player like him could never just take a girl straight home. What the hell did she even see in him?
I pulled straight into the parking lot without even looking both ways. A few cars honked, but I didn’t have time to stop. I pulled the car up right beside his car, my heart pounding out of my chest. Before I knew it I was banging on the window, causing them to pull apart immediately. Macey’s eyes were wide as dinner plates and she froze almost like a deer in headlights. However, he did not seem the slightest bit alarmed. Almost as if he wanted her best friend to come waltzing into their little makeout session.
“Lizzie… what are you doing here?” Macey spoke softly.
I didn’t want to be mad at her. We had been best friends since kindergarten. However, that also meant that I knew her all too well. And I knew that no matter how many times I told her to stay away from him, she would never listen. She would just keep getting hurt.
I couldn’t force myself to make eye contact with her. “I could ask you the same thing.”
She quickly got out of the car, grabbed my arm and pulled me so he was out of earshot. She kept opening her mouth to defend him, but no words would come out. A tear slowly began to trickle down her cheek, “Lizzie, please listen to me. I know you don’t like him. But... I love him.”
I knew she did. Of course, she had never admitted it out loud before, in fear of what people would think. But I could tell simply by the dumb googly eyes she got whenever she looked at him or even talked about him. It was revolting. But what was more revolting was the fact that he clearly did not feel the same. He would use her as much as he could, but as soon as he found someone new, he’d remove her from his life entirely. I know because I had seen it happen plenty of times before. She just never seemed to learn.
“Don’t worry, Lizzie,” I could hear him shout from his car, “I’ll leave if that’s what you want.”
A waterfall of tears poured from Macey’s face as she saw him beginning to pull away. She screamed his name over and over again, begging him to come back for her. He wouldn’t.
The Mustang pulled out of the parking lot, leaving me alone with my sobbing friend. It was for the best. I just wished that she could see that. I just--
Crash! Horns blared. People screamed. I flung around to see that dumb Mustang smashed right up against a minivan. I wanted to say he deserved it. For hurting my friend. For driving so recklessly. For overall just being a jerk. But when I looked at Macey I saw nothing but horror on her face as if her whole life had just come crashing down. She looked physically broken. I stood my ground as she sprinted towards the wreck, kneeling beside the driver seat, morphing into a pathetic pile of tears. Part of me wanted to feel relieved. But I couldn’t be happy seeing my best friend so defeated. Was all this my fault? Had I been the one to hurt my best friend this time?
...What had I done?