Coda

Color bled into the sky: rosy pinks, dusky blues, a smudge of orange. 

Lampposts slowly flickered on, casting their spotlights on errant sidewalk squares and parking spots. The restaurant was raucous, people out on a Sunday evening before work beckoned once more.  

Voices could be heard around the back. In an empty parking lot, two young women; alight with conflict. The only break in the night’s pleasant mood. 

One stood tight like a well-strung instrument, her magenta nails clenched in fists. Vivian. 

“Andy, please. We’re done.” When the other opened her mouth to object, she said, “You know, I would forgive the sky for setting me alight with a shock of lightning, as that is how things are. I’m no longer giving you the same grace.” The other woman stayed chest puffed, jean jacket creasing as she shoved her hands in the pockets. Andy. Hair coiffed up, tie set askew, cropped button-down. Not quite date-night, not quite casual. A circle of fluorescent light beamed down on her, highlighting her hair, her features. Her once-smile, now more of a grimace. 

Vivian’s palms began to ache. A trickle of blood ran down her knuckles from where her nails cut. What else could she even say? It was a losing fight against her, it always was. Andy, with her wolflike grin and confidence and flair. There was a reason why those theatre shows always sold out. 

“So poetic. Yeah, you knew the whole time, didn’t you? About Henry.” Andy shot out. “Did you keep it to yourself because of some vendetta or something? You still care about me. You wouldn’t leave. We’ve got something special.” Vivian sighed in frustration. Words piled up by her tongue, notes stacking, filling her clenched jaws. She pressed her fingers to the pulse at her wrist, her heart a rapid tempo. 

It grounded her. If nothing else. 

“What are you going on about, Andy?” Vivian whispered. “I have no grudges against you. Do you understand? What you’ve done is too much. You can’t just treat the people who care about you this way. That’s when they either stay—and regret it, or leave.” 

Andy had begun to pace slightly, still in the spotlight, the metronome click of her boots echoing in the empty parking lot. Her brows begun to knit, jaw clenching. “You’re forgiving, Vivian. So open. So kind.” At this, Andy threw her hands out. Her palms open. Inviting. She went on—“You know I’m right, hey.” Vivian couldn’t bring herself to look at her eyes. This fucking onslaught. 

“Andy, you’re not a good person. You aired out Henry’s personal situation like some dirty laundry it wasn’t. You can’t just—I don’t know—side everyone with you in a situation that was your fault in the first place.”

There was a considerable pause before Andy spoke. 

Her voice had softened ever so slightly. “Vivian. You still care. Is that so bad? I think you’re being hard on yourself. If I’ve hurt you, it’ll take time, but you can still—” 

“No.” Vivian moved closer. A spot of dinner was still smeared on Andy’s mouth. “I’ve always admired you. Thought you were some great big—I don’t know. A good friend. A charismatic person. Now, when your so-called friends have dropped one by one, have you even realized what you’ve done? The harm you caused?” 

“What I’ve done?” We’re friends, come on. Plus,” She ran her fingers through her hair, jumpy like a staccato note. The curls hung limply to the side, their earlier volume diminished. Bit by bit, Andy came undone. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to jump on that bandwagon? I’ve changed.” She put a hand to her chest, on the wrong side to her heart. “I’ve realized what I did. And I’m bettering myself!” Then she smiled. Like another character in her plays. 

Ah, those plays. Vivian sat at every one, a smile stretching her cheeks, flowers in her arms. She tried. She was a good friend, right? But friendship shouldn’t need proving. 

Andy, though. Vivian swallowed a shaky laugh. Andy didn’t care! She didn’t actually fucking care. It was the attention, the glory she sought. It was far too long before she had realized her and the others were like commodities to Andy. Just people sitting by her pedestal. There was the time where Andy blew up over her outing with Olive. She just jumped to conclusions that Vivian “had better things to do than be her friend, I guess”. And the time she found out Vivian comforted Henry after everything. Another “We need to talk, now.” text. 

“You so fucking clearly don’t understand. Trust me, we’ve been friends long enough to know you haven’t. You’re still the same self-victimizing asshole you started out as in freshman year. You’re smart. You crack good jokes. But I stayed because something in me hoped you’d change. Wished you would. Our friends realized before I did. You’re a—a shitty person.” Vivian spread her arms out, filling the empty space. “They left. And for good reason. You’re controlling, Andy! You tried to manipulate us.” Andy’s eyes flicked to the bloody crescents on Vivian’s palms, then back to her eyes. 

“What? You’re buying that bullshit? Vivian. We’ve all done things we aren’t too fond of. You know me—” 

Vivian laughed shakily, cutting her off. “I know you well enough to leave you. That’s final. Time and time again you don’t change. We gave you plenty of opportunities! You can’t just control your friends into liking you. Your friends shouldn’t be scared of misstepping.” She bit her lipsticked lip. “Bye, Andy. Have a good life." Vivian turned without another word, not a single “sorry” locked and loaded on her tongue. Andy’s boots started unsteadily, then stopped behind her. 

“Vivian, Vivian I promise—” She trailed off. 

No. No more. She was done. 

She climbed into her car (just a few paces away), spun the key—keychains clattering—into the ignition. It was over. A smear of blood from her palms coated the keyring. It was over. The takeout bag—now cold—sat where Andy once did. It was over. As the vehicle rumbled to life, she looked in the rearview mirror. Andy stood paces away under the spotlight’s eye-bashing glow, an unreadable expression on her face. Finally silent. Alone. 

She did not roll the window down. 

She did not stop. 

And she did not stay. 

As Freddy Mercury’s vocals and the first piano notes began the intro to “Don’t Stop Me Now”— second of the playlist and her longtime favorite—the sunset, she noticed, was magnificent.