The taxi was gone when we made it back outside. It’s just past noon and I remember I have to get ready for work again. There isn’t much I have to do, so I assume it’s safe to walk home. Pearl tries to reassure me, tells me he’s likely just bi-polar, that what I said next didn’t really make any difference. That it was all on him at that point. It doesn’t help. I feel like it should, like it should take the guilt off since it wasn’t really my fault, but I feel the same.

“I just… I feel like I’ve missed an opportunity of some kind.”

She takes a few seconds to process then responds, “Like, you might have been with him?” I don’t know how to respond. “Is that what you mean?”

I assume that she’s clarifying, like clarity is the lesson she took away from the meeting. “I guess,” I tell her. “I don’t know.”

Silence follows for a short while after. I’m processing thoughts at a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of something I might say if I get another chance. Or things I should’ve said.

Pearl comes back in quietly, “You okay?”

At first I just shrug. I had been thinking, and really, there’s nothing I should be upset about, so I can truthfully tell her, “I’m fine.” But that’s not everything. “I just wish there was something we could do.” I really do feel better, but I have that nagging feeling. Almost like we gave up too soon.

She takes a second, and I notice we’ve finally gotten back to the crowded part of the city. “You wanna break him out?”

I smile, which was her intention. “I don’t think that would help us out at all.”

There’s an uneasy tension as we walk; I can tell Pearl wants to keep talking, keep her mind off it or something. I mostly just want to think quietly, but what kind of friend would that make me?

“I think you’re right, though,” I tell her.

“About what?” She asks right away.

“The bipolar thing.” I know she wants to know why I think that, and the answer comes suddenly to me. “He wasn’t drunk. Stitches was drunk that night, you could smell it on him. Lavandula was clean, fresh…”

“Sober?” Pearl sounds astonished. “Seriously?”

I nod, though I don’t really know how I remembered. I don’t know what to say next and wait for her to continue. She just keeps exhaling briskly, astonished. Sorry for using the same adjective twice but I can’t think of anything better. Fascinated, maybe? Mortified? No, it’s not like it scarred her.

While she reacts aghast, I’m suddenly thinking about Stitches. I welcome the distraction, though manage to dread it simultaneously. I want to know what it was that made him act the way he did, if it was anything at all. I mean, it had to have been something, right? Is it ever anything like that for me?

I want to know what he was thinking, both when he started feeling that way, and when he stopped. If he stopped. Did he really think he was in to stallions? Or was it just me? If so, why did he second guess it?

I remember Pearl is beside me and feel like asking. “Do you think he really likes me?”

She looks at me curiously, then looks away in thought. “I mean, he did seem to like your body.”

I give her a startled, confused look. Then I realize she’s talking about Lavandula and suddenly the look on her face, her reaction to my reaction, makes perfect sense. “I mean Stitches,” I tell her.

She lets out a long “Oohh…” with a semi-relieved look. “Well, that’s kind of a hard one.”

I try to think of a better question. “Well,” I attempt, “do you think he’s really gay?”

“You know, I really thought he was, and I’m usually right,” I remember how she guessed my preference, “but if he really turned away from you I’m not sure. I mean, you’re irresistible.”

I roll my eyes, then smirk. I feel like I should say something witty, but can’t think of anything quick enough. Plus, I don’t know if I’m in the mood.

“What I mean is; he might not have been that drunk that night.” She pauses and I think about that for a second. “He might have known completely what he was doing, and maybe he wanted to try something real. As opposed to what you and him did during the party.”

I guess that makes sense. I don’t know if I should say anything, so I don’t at first. But her silence says she wants some confirmation. I don’t know if I want to keep digging, but there’s more to talk about, and if I can’t ask Stitches I might as well settle for Pearl’s “professional” opinion. “So, he does want something, just not with me?”

She inhales sharply. “It sounds a little harsh, but I think that’s it. I was probably just wrong about him.” I notice she’s walking pretty close, like she’s softening a blow of some kind. “He is pretty young, and it might have just been the end of a phase. He needed to act on it to find out for sure.” I think she’s done, but the silence is short. “And while we’re on the subject of his age…” She pauses awkwardly, trying to think quickly of what exactly to say. “I mean, he’s older than you, true, but younger than Patches and me. It’s just that… he doesn’t want to be treated like a child, and since you were younger he thought he could feel mature by dating you. I think.”

That makes a lot of sense. I feel a satisfied smile crawl across my lips. Pearl sees it and sighs. She did a good job avoiding disaster for one day. Then, once that thought crosses my mind I feel guilty. I feel like I put unnecessary stress on her and thoughts start flooding again, leading all the way back to the start of the day, eventually back to my birthday party and how since all of this started she’s been focusing so much of her time on me. I can feel my heartbeat hasten to a steady beat and I fight not to let any heavy, noticeable breaths out. I’m panicking, but Pearl can’t know.

“You wanna get lunch?” I ask suddenly, trying to distract myself.

“You sure? You might be late.” She has a point, but I’m suddenly afraid to go to the theater. If I have a panic attack I can’t manage, there won’t be anything I can do there. “I guess it won’t be all bad,” Pearl continues. “You’ve had perfect attendance so far, right?”

“Right,” I assure. “What’s one late entry?”

“Come to think of it, you could probably get away with a sick day!”

I do a kind-of double-take and make myself chuckle. “That might be pushing it.”

“I doubt it,” she says. “You’ve worked there over a year with perfect attendance. Not a single sick day, even a mental health day, zero vacation time, they’re almost over-working you.”

“I don’t know about that—“

“Well I do, you’re calling in sick.”

I’m flabbergasted, really. How can she be so adamant about making me skip a day of work? “What am I even going to do all day?”

“Hmm.” Her excitement has hastened her pace to a brisk canter and I’m struggling to keep up. “Well we never actually got you any presents for your birthday.”

“Oh please,” I groan.

“What? We didn’t.”

“The party was plenty. And the after party, or whatever it was. Don’t spend any more money on me.” I feel like she might stress me out if she does give me too much attention.

“Oh come on, it’s just some fun times with friends.”

“Right, but it can’t just be the two of us. Anyway yeah, what if Patches and Stitches don’t have the time?”

“They have plenty of time.” It’s quite a promise, but she and I both know it’s true. “They hardly get any school work, and they both get it all done early anyway. Always. You know that.” I nod. “Then it’s settled.”

“Wait no—“

“I’ll call your boss or whatever, tell him you got a serious throat sore.”

My protests don’t stop her from running back home. We’re both exhausted when we make it to her apartment so I try a little harder to stop her. She’s already picking up the receiver when I catch my breath. “Please don’t do this,” I plead. “You’ve already done so much.”

“What’s your boss’s number?” She demands.

I take another deep breath. “No, I’m not telling.”

“Oh come on, Timber,” she whines. “You deserve a little pampering.”

“And I’ve had more than enough for a while.”

“Yeah but that was weeks ago.” She has a point, but I still don’t feel like it’s worth letting her spend more money on me because of how I feel.

“It’s not like I’m really that upset. You don’t need to cheer me up.” She pauses, contemplating her actual decision. She looks almost sad. I can’t help but feel like I hurt her feelings by shutting her down. I feel guilty. Dammit. “Look, I’m not really in the mood for a night out, but you did say you didn’t get me any presents. Go out with Stitches and Patches, I’ll go to work. Get me a few things you think I’d like. Just, nothing too expensive. Please.”

She smiles again. Do I feel like I’ve been manipulated? “All right, deal. See you tomorrow.”

I don’t know how to feel for this weekend.