Free Results May Vary by Bethany Chase

Ruby, when I stalked back to the couch and tossed a bag of Cheetos forcefully into her lap. “Who-all is ‘everyone’?”
    “Jonathan,” I said, through a bite of apple. “He was there when it all exploded.”
    “What even happened, exactly? You never told me how you found out.”
    With a sigh, I recounted the whole pathetic, humiliating tale. “It was the most surreal experience of my life, Rube. You remember when we drove up to see Aunt Jessie, and Dad’s car slipped in the snow and we slid right off the road, and we both had that same experience of not believing it while it was happening, like, as if it was a movie we were watching or something?”
    She popped a nuclear-orange Cheeto into her mouth and crunched, nodding slowly.
    “Yeah. It was like that. My brain was a good three minutes behind the rest of me. I don’t even remember a word Adam said after I realized. I don’t remember leaving the gallery. I just remember leaning against the side of the building, puking onto the sidewalk like a drunk freshman. And trying not to let it splash onto my shoes and my dress that I’d worn to look pretty for Adam, and wanting to die from the humiliation.”
    Ruby leaned over and rubbed my knee with her one clean hand. “I’m so sorry, Care. It’s so fucking awful. And he’s just such a
total
fucking pig to have done this to you.”
    “At least the Blaster had the sense not to make any jokes about how he always seems to get stuck taking care of me when I’m barfing,” I said, and one corner of her mouth lifted.
    “What does he think about it all?” she said, scuffing one foot back and forth through the shaggy wool rug.
    “He thinks it sucks. Obviously.”
    “Yeah, but I mean, like…did he say anything about Adam? Like, did he ever pick up on anything?”
    I gave a short huff of frustration. “No, Ruby. Nobody has ever ‘picked up on’ anything.”
    “Is he gonna try to make a play for you now?”
    “What—Jonathan? Are you kidding me?”
    Digging in her Cheetos bag, she shrugged.
    “Even if he were interested in me,
which he is not,
this is my marriage we’re talking about here. Not some high school relationship on life support.”
    “It could be, though. I mean, it basically is. Jonathan’s never known you when you weren’t with Adam. I know you always said it wasn’t like that—”
    “Because it wasn’t.”
    A breeze from the open window pushed a tendril of hair against her cheek, and she brushed it away. “
You
say it wasn’t. I bet he’d say different. I mean, it’s a no-brainer. You’re a gorgeous woman, and he’s obviously loved you forever. Now he’s finally got his shot.”
    Why was she so bent on misunderstanding? “He’s loved me as a friend forever. And that is
all
it is, hand to god. There are no shots being taken. If anything, he’s been encouraging me to try to work through it.”
    Ruby grunted, unimpressed. And I wasn’t particularly surprised. To say that Ruby and Adam disliked each other was an overstatement. However, it was also something of an overstatement to say they
liked
each other. I would describe it as unspokenly agreed neutrality, with occasional moments of both genuine affection and genuine loathing.
    When I was younger, I thought it was jealousy, on Ruby’s part. More recently, I’ve come to understand that we all have people in our lives who inhabit different ends of our polar charges. We’d like to think that everyone we love will naturally all love each other, but it’s not necessarily so; and in my case, I had a sister who was at one end of my personal spectrum and a husband who was at the other. Adam thought Ruby was flighty, giddy, and immature; she found him self-absorbed and a little pompous. In between them, I couldn’t wholly deny the truth of either charge.
    Though Ruby hadn’t voiced her opinion, I already knew what it would be. My closest friend believed Adam and I could somehow work our way through this maze; my sister didn’t even