The letters sit unsent on Regina’s desk, still sheets of notebook paper bound by metal loops. They are… dress rehearsals, of sorts. She flicks through them all, counting through them, making sure that everything is in order.
She reads only the lines of greeting, the rest she has practically committed to memory by now. These are scripts for a Shakespeare play, with every roiling twist and violent turns of fate imaginable.
Dear Cady…
She envisions the pretty redhead — how innocent she was! Regina would bear the guilt of stripping her of her naïveté, but Cady’s former attitude has made a glorious return, with only a hint of caution mixed into her social dealings. Cady is the girl that everyone wishes to be, Regina especially.
Dear Janis…
Janis, why had Regina outed her? It seems like such a trivial thing to spark a vicious feud over, and really it was not a feud for the longest, it was a one-sided tale of oppression. Regina had crushed Janis’s status and pride underfoot, and perhaps she deserved every bit of Janis’s resentment and revenge. Her regrets number the grains of sand in a desert, but she squeezes them into just a few lines on the yellow page.
Dear Karen…
Karen is an airheaded blonde, yes, but she’s Regina’s very own airheaded blonde, and Regina owes her many apologies. She’s called Karen a slu*t, time and time again, and announced her body count to everyone, as if it were some sort of public information. She’s mocked every one of Karen’s foolish questions and puzzled remarks. Regina thinks she’s taken it too far. She had taken it too far from the first day that they had met.
She finishes jotting down her apologies, some in quick bullet-points and others in shaky cursive. She has to write and discard her letter to Janis three times; the tears won’t stop splattering across the paper. She reminds herself that these emotions are good, she needs every one of them to pour out her sincerity onto the paper. The pen slips from her grip once, and she notices the ink-stained sweat-pearls playing in the evening sunlight against the pale canvas of her palm.
She reads through each letter six times, convincing herself that imperfection is all right, that it isn’t about being perfect, it’s about being truthful, and god she’s been truthful. She has laid herself bare across the linen sheets, will she be accepted?
A few moments will not be enough to pacify the pain felt by years of suffering, but Regina can only try. She decides that she owes them all a genuine conversation, not a rushed monologue under the harsh lighting and slippery tile of the school restroom. She should invite them over and apologize to each one of them. Maybe then they’ll know that she’s changed, that being hitting by a bus has done nothing but good for her… maybe they’ll know, and maybe she can dare to dream of friendship, genuine friendship.
She looks over her letters once again, and then begins a new one hesitantly.
Dear Gretchen…
This time, she does not feel the river of emotions that threaten to shatter her ribs into invisible fragments. Does she really have nothing to say to Gretchen, nothing to apologize for?
Would she apologize to herself? Gretchen is an extension of Regina’s right arm, the executor, the one that does whatever Regina asks her to do. Gretchen has known everything that Regina has known, and she has never once lifted a finger to fight against it. What apologies could Regina give her? They have been best friends for years, but Gretchen has not been much of a friend since the middle of freshman year. Gretchen is not her friend, she is an instrument of Regina’s destruction.
There is a small part of her heart that feels a twinge upon tearing the empty page to shreds. She knows that she is not thinking straight, that she will regret this later, when she thinks of something to say to Gretchen. The thought is silenced by her mind’s favorite assurance: It’s just Gretchen, Gretchen won’t hold it against me. Gretchen tries to understand, even if she doesn’t.
The clock’s hands inch towards midnight when Regina decides that her scripts are satisfactory. She sends them all a text, one by one, reading exactly the same:
Come over tmrw night? I’ll make dessert…
Then, just for old times’ sake, she texts Gretchen. Send me your grandma’s apple cake recipe? Thx.
Gretchen responds with the recipe right away, along with her own little notes and suggestions. They aren’t necessary — Gretchen and Regina have made this together many times, and Regina remembers every single word that Gretchen had said, clinging onto those memories with her last breaths before falling into sleep.
She doesn’t talk to anyone at school that day. She sits through her classes quietly, answers in a hushed tone when she is called upon, ensures that she stays clear of Cady’s apology tour, because Cady is bold enough to apologize to everyone in public, and Regina can’t bear the thought of doing the same.
She picks up the ingredients on her way home, enough for four people. She considers taking enough for a fifth, but Gretchen would be an intruder on this circle of apologies. Regina can’t make decisions for her any longer, if Gretchen wants to make amends, then she’ll do it herself, and Regina will pat her on the back as she leaves quietly.
There are only enough ingredients to feed four. The fifth has not been invited, and it is for the better, this time. Gretchen won’t mind, and even if she does, she won’t hold it against Regina. That’s how Gretchen has always been, and that’s what makes her so endearing to Regina these days. The years before that are a distant land, and she will not venture into them, too afraid of being burned. For Janis she will do it, but Janis is different; Regina has never ruined Gretchen’s life.
The night is quiet until the doorbell rings. Regina leaps to her feet and then winces immediately afterward, feeling the pain shoot up her crooked spine and scarred back. She limps downstairs and opens it, expecting Cady — and there she is, looking as perfect as ever, making Regina’s legs shake and heart flutter, her eyes agape and voice stutter.
“C-Cady?” she asks slowly. “You look pretty.”
“You mean that?”
Regina considers pressing her lips to Cady’s right then and there, but she knows that she has to wait. They all need to heal, but Regina doesn’t know if she can wait that long. Love does not make appointments with girls like her.
“Come in,” she says quietly. “I made apple cake.”
Cady picks up a piece and bites into it, chewing slowly. Regina looks on nervously. “Do you like it?”
“This is amazing,” Cady whispers, almost reverently. “It’s the best thing I’ve had in years.”
She draws closer to Regina, and maybe they’re about to kiss, but then the doorbell rings again, and Regina opens the door once again. This time, it’s Karen, smiling vacantly. Regina wants to cry at the chaste innocence in her eyes, the softness of her irises. Karen will forgive her, and she will move on swiftly.
Does Regina deserve to be forgiven? She doesn’t think so. She knows it shouldn’t be as easy as apple cake and tears, but she wishes dearly that it could be. Would this gentle night yield to her wishes? An hour will tell what a year has yet to say.
Janis enters last. She doesn’t glare at Regina, but she doesn’t smile either. She compliments the apple cake, and then everyone sits quietly in Regina’s room for five minutes, staring expectantly at their host to say something.
She clears her throat. “I-I need to, uh… I need to apologize. I want to apologize, nobody’s forcing me to do it.”
They continue to listen quietly. “Okay, one at a time. Karen, can I… can I start with you?”
Karen nods, her eyes already welling up. Regina’s emotional too, but she’s not to the point of showing it yet.
“Kare, I am so sorry for treating you like a slu*t. I’m so sorry for talking so much… sh*t about you behind your back and in front of your face as well. I’m sorry for laughing at every single word you misplaced, I’m sorry for making fun of your dyslexia, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry for treating you the way I treated you.”
She lets the moment rest before she begins her next apology. “Janis, god, I don’t know what to say anymore. I’m sorry for outing you, I’m sorry for telling everyone and ruining your life. I’m sorry that I didn’t apologize earlier. I’m sorry that I never saw how good you were to me. I deserved everything that I got, and I guess I’m glad that I got run over before I could keep spiraling down my misguided path.”
She pauses, wondering if she should say the next thought that comes to her mind, unscripted, an ad-lib. “And I’m so f*cking hypocritical for doing all of that to you, because I like girls too.”
There. She said it. Before anyone can respond to her, she turns to Cady. “Cady, I never should have messed with your feelings the way that I did. Truthfully, Cady, I liked you — I like you. I didn’t want you to be anywhere near anyone else, which is why I tried to make you stay with me. I know I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry. I mean it, though, I really do like you, and I’m sorry for trying to force you to like me back.”
She clears her throat again, unpleasantly aware of the wetness stinging against her cheeks. “I’ll understand completely if each and every one of you want to leave this house and never talk to me again in my life. I don’t deserve any one of you, and I don’t expect to keep your friendships or anything, really. But if you’d like to stay friends… I’d really appreciate it, I could really use some. So yeah. Please… just consider trying to forgive me. I’ll do my best to repent regardless.”
The silence is poignant, and nobody dares to break it. Except Karen, of course. “What does ‘repent’ mean?”
“I’ll do my best to make it up to you, Kare,” Regina says softly. “I’m just… really sorry. Try to forgive me, please?”
“How do you try to forgive someone?” Karen asks. Regina’s heart drops.
“Oh… that’s all right then. I’m… really, oh god, I can’t do this.”
Regina buries her face in her hands.
“Of course you’re forgiven, silly! You can’t try to forgive someone, either they say sorry or they don’t. And you said sorry, so you’re forgiven!”
She feels Karen’s arm around her shoulders. “Don’t cry, Regina.”
“This means a lot, Regina,” Janis sighs. “I don’t know if I can forgive you right away, but you’ve changed, you’ve become a better person, obviously. Can we try to be friends again?”
“I’d like that,” Regina says, looking up at Janis through watery lenses. “I’d like that a lot.”
Cady doesn’t say anything, she just strokes Regina’s hair slowly. “I’m sorry too, for the bus. I feel like it was all my fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t your fault!” Regina snaps. “Sorry. But it really wasn’t, you know. I’m the one that got hit by the bus.”
Cady’s next words are a whisper. “Did you mean what you said? About liking me?”
“Yes.”
“Would you… would you like to give me a chance?”
Regina must be dreaming. “Me? Give you a chance? Cady, you’ll have me?”
Cady pecks her cheek, chaste, gentle, but Regina can feel her sincerity. The night is indeed a dream come true. They’re all crying, but they’re all smiling as well, and Cady might be Regina’s girlfriend now so everything’s perfect.
As they all leave, late at night, Karen lingers behind. “Regina… where’s Gretchen?” she asks slowly.
“Oh, I didn’t invite her,” Regina says.
“Are you mad at her?”
“No, of course not!”
She looks at Karen’s puzzled expression. “This was only for the people I wanted to apologize to. Gretchen… I think she owes you all an apology, but for the love of god, I could not come up with a single word to say to her.”
“You should talk to her sometime,” Karen says. “I don’t think she’s doing very well.”
Regina stares at Karen, surprised. “Did you talk to her?”
“No, but my ESPN tells me something’s probably wrong,” Karen says offhandedly. “Bye!”
“Bye, Kare.”
If Karen’s questionable ESP is all that’s backing her diagnosis of Gretchen’s condition, then Regina has no reason to worry. Maybe she’ll talk to Gretchen later. She doesn’t know if she’s ready for that, though. Gretchen will gossip, she’ll drag Regina down with her. Maybe they’re better off apart, at least for the time being.
It hurts Regina to part ways with her best friend, like being stabbed by a butter knife. Sure, she doesn’t feel great about ignoring Gretchen’s attempts to make casual conversation, but all of those conversations are about other people, and she doesn’t want to talk about other people. She doesn’t want to talk about herself either, so maybe Gretchen can’t say much. It’s all right, though. Gretchen will find new friends, ones better suited to her, and Regina will move on.
She thinks the words every time she sees Gretchen rushing after her in the halls, but she doesn’t say them: Goodbye, Gretch. It would hurt to say them, and Regina can’t hurt any more. Mostly she can’t imagine the heartbreak marring Gretchen’s pretty face, the last friendly interaction that they’ll have.
She doesn’t remember what they’re talking about when it happens, but she remembers what Karen said rather clearly. “Oh, Regina makes great apple cake, you know!”
Gretchen frowned at that. “When have you had apple cake, Kare?”
“When Regina made them for us that night, silly! You don’t remember?”
Regina nudges Karen under the table, praying for her to stop.
“Regina made apple cake? When?”
“That night she apologized, remember? It was really sweet. Regina cried a lot.”
“We all cried a lot,” Janis laughs. Cady isn’t as subtle as Regina, but her hyena glare is vicious. Janis visibly cowers as Damian looks at her disapprovingly.
“Wait, so this was with all of you?” Gretchen asks slowly.
“Yeah! When you were out of town,” Regina says quickly. She knows the lie has fallen flat the moment that it leaves her mouth.
“I wasn’t out of town anytime recently…” Gretchen says. “Wait. Was this the night when you asked me for my grandma’s apple cake recipe?”
Regina doesn’t respond. Gretchen looks around, wounded. “What happened?”
Janis speaks again. “Regina called us all to her place and told us she was sorry for everything she’d done, like, really sorry. She was breaking down and all. I’ve never seen her stutter before.”
“Like a group apology?”
“Why does it matter?” Regina snaps, at the same time that Karen says, “No, like one for each one of us.”
None of them had heard her stutter before (except Gretchen, Gretchen knew everything), but if she were to open her mouth, she doubts she’d be able to form a coherent string of words, much less an explanation.
“Oh,” Gretchen looks at Regina, searching for confirmation. “I… cool. That’s great.”
“Regina didn’t invite you because she didn’t have anything to say to you,” Karen says.
Regina watches Janis as the girl struggles to keep her words down her throat. She is not successful. “You know, Gretchen, I think you need to apologize to everyone yourself, you know? It really helped Regina, obviously. And, no offense, but you were really just as much of a bitch as she was, so… maybe try asking her how she did it? You don’t have to get run over by a bus, I hope.”
“Janis!”
Cady looks about a second away from ripping Janis’s larynx out. She doesn’t look like a disapproving teacher now, she looks like a f*cking savage. Her eyes look powerful enough to kill Janis on the power of sheer will. It’s not hot, not in the slightest, it’s just terrifying.
“It’s fine,” Gretchen says. Regina sees her crestfallen expression turn to a plastic smile in a moment, and she thinks, Gretchen always pulls through.
Her girlfriend is furious, though. Cady is the definition of a hopeless romantic, but when she speaks to Regina late in the afternoon, not a single affectionate nickname is used. Cady hasn’t fully lost her death glare, and Regina definitely doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of hyena Cady — not lion Cady, as the girl had told her many times, but hyena Cady, death-staring, cackling, cold-hearted Cady.
“Regina, do you know how much she’s hurting? You know she sits next to me in English, right? She hasn’t said a word to me in days. That never happens, never.”
Regina tries to listen patiently, because she’s been told she should do that more often. Cady just seems to get angrier, though. “And sometimes when I look over she’s scribbling something on her paper. I never read it, because it’s none of my business, but Regina, I’m pretty sure she’s writing a suicide note.”
Regina snorts. “Gretchen’s always been like that, Cady. She loves writing edgy poetry. She loves the attention, you said it yourself once, remember? So don’t pay attention to her sh*tty poems and just relax.”
Cady doesn’t seem to know what she’s meant to be angry about. She chooses one and hunts it down. “See, that’s what’s wrong with you two, Regina. Her poetry is not sh*tty, and you’re just saying it’s terrible because you’ve read one poem of hers back in fifth grade or something. And where do you get off calling your best friend’s poetry sh*tty, anyway?”
“It’s the truth.”
“Shut the f*ck up!” Cady growls. She looks like she’s about to strangle Regina.
“You’re being a bitch, Regina. Didn’t you see Gretchen’s eyes when she found out? Didn’t you feel something? Didn’t it hurt? Why won’t you apologize to her, is it really so hard? Is it really so hard?”
“I don’t have anything to apologize for, Cady.”
Cady glares at her. “I’m sure you can come up with something.”
She storms away, leaving Regina to go after her — the first fight they’ve have since they first kissed.
“Why do you care so much?” Regina calls. “You don’t even know her!”
“Why don’t you care?”
She looks at Gretchen in her gym class, standing with all of the Vietnamese girls, speaking their language, trying ever so hard to fit in. She’s not sitting with them at lunch any more. Maybe that’s what concerns Cady so much; that Gretchen has left their table, and nobody leaves their table.
She looks miserable.
They lock eyes for a moment, an excruciating moment — and Regina wants Gretchen to come running back to her, because Gretchen doesn’t hold grudges. Gretchen never holds grudges, and Gretchen always comes back to Regina. So it goes.
She’s right, in the end. Gretchen does come back to sit at their table, and although she mostly talks to Cady now, Regina is happy to have her there. The world is back in place, revolving as it should. Maybe Gretchen’s a little more reserved, but that’ll go away in a few days.
She considers apologizing but she doesn’t know what to say. Maybe there’s nothing left to say.
Cady seems to be satisfied with whatever has happened, so Regina is getting her kisses and cuddles again, and everything is all right. Cady doesn’t bring up Gretchen again until a summer afternoon, warm and sultry, but still lovely. They lie together on Regina’s bed, limbs intertwined with one another. Regina feels Cady’s chest rising slowly, and then falling with a soft exhale.
“Gina?”
“Yes, Cady?”
“Did you ever talk to Gretchen?”
Regina sighs. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just… I saw her at the mall yesterday, and she was so… listless. Defeated. She wasn’t alone, but she looked alone. She seemed… dead.”
A pang of guilt cuts through her. “I hope she’s all right,” Regina says. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Please do,” Cady says. “If you don’t sort this out by graduation…”
You might never see her again.
Regina can’t imagine a life without Gretchen.
“I’ll talk to her.”
She’s in the car, driving to Gretchen’s house with snacks and a prayer in her heart. She hasn’t written any scripts, she doesn’t want to speak. She wants to hug Gretchen and tell her that everything will be okay, that she’s safe now. Regina is sorry, she’s so sorry. She only wishes that she had told her sooner.
She receives a call from Gretchen’s mother. “Hi, Mrs. Wieners, how are you?” she asks politely, one hand on the wheel. “I was just driving to your house, actually. I wanted to talk to Gretchen.”
There is only crying at the other end of the line. “Regina… Regina, honey, are you on the road?”
“Yes, Mrs. Wieners.”
“Pull over.”
“What? Why?”
“Pull over. Please.”
Regina complies, pulling over to the shoulder of the road. “Okay, I’ve pulled over.”
“You’re not driving anymore?”
“No, Mrs. Wieners.”
“Regina… oh god, Regina…”
“Mrs. Wieners, is everything all right?”
She takes a ragged breath. “Is Gretchen all right?”
Mrs. Wieners breaks down completely. “She’s slit her wrists…”
Regina’s head falls back against the seat. The phone slips out of her grasp, and she makes no move to pick it up.
“Regina? Sweetie, are you all right?”
She fumbles for the phone. “What — what did you say?”
“She’s killed herself, Regina…”
“No, no, no. No!”
Chills pulse through Regina’s body. “No! No, please, god, no!”
Mrs. Wieners’s cries are the only sound in the car.
“Can’t you save her?”
Regina presses the accelerator down hard, swerving back into the highway. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“We were away from home today,” Mrs. Wieners says, the words barely discernible. “She slit her wrists hours ago, Regina. By the time we came home… she was gone.”
I did this. I did this. I did this.
“I did this…” she whispers. “I-I did this…”
“Regina? Regina? Don’t do anything. Just come here. Please. Don’t do anything, sweetie. I told you because she was like your sister, you needed to know. Regina? Regina?”
Regina throws the phone across the car, hearing it slam into the window.
She screams.
“f*ck! f*ck! Oh my god, why? f*ck!”
She closes her eyes and floors the gas pedal, waiting for the familiar feeling of a crash. She swerves around blindly, waiting for the sound to ring out through her ears, for the fire to burn through her body. She’s going thirty over the speed limit and she wants a car to hit her.
She takes a sharp turn onto the exit, blowing through the local roads at a hundred miles an hour, barely stopping at the lights. Her tires come to a screeching halt.
She throws open the gate and sprints through, slamming on the front door until her knuckles bleed. She can’t bring herself to speak, but the line of blood that streaks across the door is enough.
“Regina? Thank god you’re okay!”
Mrs. Wieners wraps her in a hug, and Regina falls apart completely, collapsing into her arms. “Is she still there?”
Mrs. Wieners shakes her head. “No… but there’s so much blood. Don’t go in there, Regina.”
Regina ignores her and runs up to Gretchen’s room.
There’s blood. There’s a puddle of blood and trails of bloodstains all over the floor, and it’s all so bright and red that Regina can’t bring herself to stand any longer. She crashes against the wall as she falls, her head crashing against the ground with a sickening crack.
She wakes up to Mrs. Wieners shoving smelling salts under her nose. “Oh, you’re awake, Regina, I was so worried… that you had seen it and died from the heartbreak, there’s enough stories of that. Don’t look, Regina.”
“I wasn’t a good enough friend to her,” Regina spits, “or I would’ve died on the road when I was coming.”
“Regina!”
The woman has just lost her daughter, there’s only so much comfort she can offer, and she’s trying to keep it together for Regina, but it’s not working. It’s not. It’s not.
“Did she say anything?” Regina asks. “Did she leave a note? Please, I have to know.”
“There were notes… just a few, though. There was one for your friend Cady, and one for me, and none for her father… he won’t be pleased about that.”
“f*ck him!” Regina punches the floor as hard as she can. “He can go f*ck himself.”
She pauses. “None for me, either, I assume?”
Mrs. Wieners shakes her head. “She didn’t want to put you through reading that, darling. In her note — well, maybe it’s better I don’t tell you.”
Regina faints again.
Three days after Gretchen’s death, Regina goes to her funeral. She wears a black dress, the same one she was wearing when the bus had run over her. She wants to be run over now, so there can be a second funeral, just for her.
She’s the only one of their friends that’s been asked to come. So she stands with all of Gretchen’s relatives, cousins and aunts and uncles that all never really knew her. She’s crying more than anyone there.
She can’t speak, and so she feels like a traitor when she can’t find the words to eulogize Gretchen. Instead, she settles for crying in a corner, receiving sympathetic looks throughout. “Who’s that?” they’d ask, and receive a response from someone or another, “Gretchen’s best friend. They knew each other since kindergarten, you know! Practically family at that point.”
“Poor girl.”
No, she isn’t deserving of their pity, not when she’s taken a knife to Gretchen’s wrist and, just for good measure, slit the other as well. The casket is open, and there are pretty beaded bracelets covering Gretchen’s wrists, so that nobody can see her wounds, so that she looks like a perfect princess.
Regina kisses her forehead, and strokes her long brown hair. She smiles at the white gold hoops that adorn the girl’s ears, remembering how much Gretchen loved them. Then she remembers how she had stopped Gretchen from ever wearing them again, and she can’t take it anymore. She wails. It doesn’t matter who can hear her, it doesn’t matter who pities her, because her best friend is dead and nobody’s going to bring her back so that Regina can apologize.
If she had just visited a day earlier…
Regina has to be dragged away from the coffin. At least there is some excitement at the funeral; the younger kids don’t quite understand what’s happened to Gretchen and laugh at Regina as she’s separated from Gretchen for the last time.
Jewish funerals aren’t meant to have open caskets, but Mr. Wieners wants all the sympathy he can get. Regina’s sure that he’s happy about the scene that she’d created, crying over his daughter’s dead body, because it makes for a great picture, and great pictures in the news would push the sales of toaster strudel through the roof.
She can’t stop mumbling under her breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She’s inconsolable. Cady comes to see her, but she doesn’t manage to get a word out of Regina, who just lies on her bed, staring at the ceiling, not eating, not sleeping. She hasn’t moved in days. She’s lost all the pounds that she was obsessing about, and it could make a great diet — mourning the suicide that you aided and abetted.
f*cking hell. What a useless friend she was.
Janis didn’t quite believe that Regina was so upset over Gretchen’s death. Even when Regina returned to school, barely speaking and crying in the bathroom through lunch, Janis could be heard speaking to Cady in hushed tones, saying: “I think she’s doing it for the attention. I mean, she didn’t even like Gretchen that much!”
Cady would snap at her, but her heart was never in it. Regina wonders if they all believe that, that Regina wants attention after she’s killed her best friend. It would fit, wouldn’t it?
She doesn’t break down for weeks, maintaining the stony façade that’s gotten her through school safely. She’s sitting in English class, with Hamlet on her desk and an earbud in her right ear, listening to silence.
“All right, then. Act four, scene five, let’s begin.”
Ophelia, she’s just like Gretchen, and Regina is Prince Hamlet, almost, at times, the Fool. She’s played a good Hamlet so far, now she awaits the cue to her final scene, a poisoned blade to give her death.
“Regina?”
“Sorry, where are we?”
Some girl behind her snickers. The teacher sighs. “Line 199.”
Regina clears her throat. “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.”
She remembers. She remembers it all. Rosemary strung along her hair, perhaps, or maybe a necklace of thorns to bleed from her throat. She remembers how Gretchen would speak of anything she loved, her eyes lighting up as her words fell out of her lips in quick succession.
“And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.”
She takes a deep breath, willing herself not to cry.
“There’s fennel for you, and columbines. There’s rue for you, and some for me; we may call it herb of grace o’ Sundays. You must wear your rue with a difference.”
She sounds so much like Gretchen that it hurts, with the same lilt in her voice, the same spring in her step, the same, all the same. Regina fumbles over her words.
“There’s a — there’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say she made a good end.”
She pauses. “I mean, they say she — they say he made a…”
Her head falls onto the desk, and she begins to convulse as she sobs wretchedly. “They say she made a good end… my god, why?”
She’s mumbling incoherently now, and nobody really cares. It doesn’t really matter, anyway, they’ll forget about it by the next day. She stumbles out of class and breaks down on the restroom floor, unable to breathe.
When she returns home, there’s a letter waiting for her on the counter, postage stamp and all. “From Gretchen Wieners,” it say on the envelope, “To Regina George.”
Regina’s hand shakes as she pries the paper out. It’s got a pink border around the ends, all fancy, because Gretchen couldn’t bring herself to send a note that doesn’t look perfect, because Regina would have snapped at her ghost.
Regina begins to read.
Dear Regina,
If everything’s gone right, I’m dead. It’s not your fault.
Of course it f*cking is.
Maybe you don’t feel guilty at all, and that would be good, but we’ve been best friends for thirteen years. I know you’re feeling terrible right now. I know you think it’s all your fault, for not sitting with me at lunch or not calling me to your apology get-together or whatever. I know you might be thinking that I hated you when I died.
I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. You know, I was writing a few notes, one for Cady, finishing up my half of our English project and thanking her for being a good friend. One for my mother, a short little goodbye. I wanted to do one for you as well, but I couldn’t think of what to say.
Neither had Regina. If she could have forced out one f*cking apology, this would have never happened. Never.
You know, I wrote it on a Post-it, over and over again, thinking that I was going to make you suffer, that you’d regret everything you’d ever said to me. I took a pen and scribbled as hard as I could, writing “I hate you, I hate you! I swear to God, I hate you! Oh my God, I love you… I love you.”
Not romantically, although I am lesbian, actually (guess you can’t ruin my life after I’m already dead, yeah?). I love you, I love you so much, you’re like my big sister. I’ve always looked up to you, I’ve always wanted to be with you, maybe I was a little obsessed with you but I never cared. You never cared, either.
I’m crazy, Regina, and girls like me don’t go on living for very long. You’re the best thing I ever had, and it hurt to lose you, Gina. It really hurt when you called them all and talked to them, one by one, asking for their forgiveness, when all I really wanted was to know that you still liked me, that we were still best friends.
I wanted to make you feel bad, like this was my own kind of personal revenge fantasy, and I wouldn’t be around to bear the consequences. Then I remembered your eyes as you ran out of the gym that day, your broken eyes! If I were the one who had caused those eyes… I shudder at the thought.
Don’t think that I did this to make you guilty, I didn’t. I didn’t slit my wrists and die on the floor as a cry for attention. I wanted to die because the bad finally outweighed the good, and it had been like that for too long. I thought you’d always be enough to keep me alive, but I’m really glad you didn’t have to stay to find out. Imagine being my roommate and coming home to find me dead! I’d never put you through that.
I hope you’re not mad at me, I didn’t mean to. All I can say was that I was scared of you. Not you, Gina, Reggie, just Regina — I was scared of Regina George, the girl that terrorized her entire world. I was scared of the girl that told me I couldn’t wear hoop earrings, or the one that told me I looked ugly, that every part of me was wrong.
I could never be scared of you, though, Gina, you weren’t scary. You were my best and only. I never wanted anyone beside you, love, but it wasn’t enough and for that I’m sorry. Don’t think I deserve an apology, or that you should be guilty. It hurt me a little, all of that sh*t, but it hurt me more when I saw you hurting. Every single day you’d come to school with your cheeks swollen, like you’d been crying for hours instead of sleeping. I hope you’re okay, I figure this isn’t helping. I really love you, darling, I won’t stop even after I die.
Do me a favor, will you? Talk to someone, Gina, whether it’s your girlfriend or Karen or even Janis Ian. Just make sure you’ve got someone to hug and laugh with, because I guess it wasn’t me. I always thought we were tighter than peas in a pod. Now I know I’m wrong, and oh God, it hurts. It hurts to be wrong. Don’t think I’m blaming you, not even for a minute. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine, and mine alone. I wish you were here with me, telling me it’ll all be okay, like you did after I had that panic attack in the girls’ bathroom in ninth grade.
f*ck, this hurts to say, but I really loved you, Gina, but maybe you didn’t love me back. Maybe it was just me this whole time, wanting to be friends, and you saw me as that poor bug on the windowsill. I’m sorry for intruding on your relationship with Cady, you two had something going on from the very beginning. I just wished we could be friends again, like we were just a couple of years ago. I wish I were alive, just to give it another go.
But I can’t just live for you, Regina, hoping that you’ll have me back and we can have another chance. I’m going through a lot, like I always do, except this time you’re not around to stop me from taking the easy way out. I want to call you, but I don’t know if you’ll listen. These days it’s always felt like you’ve been missing.
I hope you’re okay, Gina, I don’t want to see you soon. And don’t even think about leaving that knife in your room! You’re too pretty to have two slit wrists too. Maybe you’re thinking you’ll hang yourself, just to see how much it hurts. I want to hug you and say goodbye, but I don’t think you’d let me. You’d try to tell me that we’d be all right and then ignore me at school. I’m not mad, Gina, I just think it’s f*cked up you don’t care enough to ask me once if I’m all right. I’ve been with you every single day, even the ones that didn’t go so well. I haven’t left you once, not even when you yelled at me after your dad left. I thought we were something special, family even, but I was wrong, so, so wrong.
Write me back, if you’d like.
Love,
Gretchen
P.S. If I’m alive, can we still be friends?
Regina sits at her desk once again, opening her notebook. The letters are still there, one for Cady, one for Janis, one for Karen. She tears them all out and throws them away, taking her pen to begin a new page.
Dear Gretchen,
I should’ve done this years ago but I didn’t. Now I can never see you again, see you smile, hear you laugh, hug you close to me and cry. I’m sorry, I’m so f*cking sorry. I never deserved someone like you in my life, girls like me only ruin girls like you.
What’s this sh*t about not loving you too? You’re still everything to me, if Cady means the world then you’re the entire universe. I still remember that time in third grade when I fell over and broke my arm. I was crying the entire way home, like I am now, and you were there to hold my hand and tell me everything is all okay. I still think about that day sometimes, smiling at the thought. Now I guess I never will.
I love you, Gretch, I love every bit of you, even if I didn’t show it. I love your laugh, I love your hair, I love the way you smile and talk about everything you love. I love your Hanukkah playlists, even the ones with the worst songs. I couldn’t bear to listen to them on my own, but when you’d put them on it was like the world lit up for me. Now I guess Christmas trees aren’t going to feel the same. I would light a menorah, but I don’t deserve it.
I wish I was never in your life. Then you could have become an author and won the Pulitzer, and I’d have said, “Look at that girl, I went to school with her, you know?” You could have been an actor too, you didn’t know which one. Your Ophelia was perfect, dead-on, it had me crying every time — I’m still crying, and you’re not here. You should have won the Oscars, and the Tonys, and whatever was left to win. Because of me that’ll never happen.
I’m glad you didn’t hate me when you died. I wouldn’t have held it against you if you did, though, I was a bitch. You’re just too forgiving because we were best friends. We still are, if you’d like to be, but of course you can’t answer me. You’ll always be my best and only.
And how the f*ck am I meant to stay alive now? I want to take three bottles of sleeping pills and see you tonight. I can’t live without you, Gretch, I’ve never tried. You’ve always been there to soften the blow, take the fall. Remember that one time we played chess and you were up a knight? And I was so angry, so upset that you were about to beat me for the fourth time in a row? Do you remember that, Gretch? Do you remember guiding me to checkmate, making terrible move after terrible move? I thought I beat you on my own — why did you do that, Gretch? If I had lost sometimes, maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to control you the way I did.
Do you remember the time you came over and sat with me all night while I played the flute? It was during my sixth year of lessons, in freshman year, when I wanted to audition for the school orchestra. I wanted to play the Rodrigo concerto, remember? But it was too hard for me, my teacher said so, again and again, and my mother was disgusted at the idea of her daughter being a member of the band geeks, if you will. My teacher was right, it was terrifyingly difficult; I shouldn’t have been able to play it at all. Do you remember what you did, Gretch? Do you? You came at night, hours after dinner, carrying ice-cream and chocolates and whatever you could find in the stores that were still open. Do you remember sitting with me, night after night, for six months, while I learned the piece? I remember how happy you were when I finished it and played the entire thing for you, while you bounced around on the piano, the same accompaniment, night after night. Do you remember what happened after that, Gretch? My mother told me not to ruin my life, and so I ruined it, I didn’t play the concerto once, and I didn’t join the orchestra. In another world I would be playing it tomorrow, at the senior recitals, and you would be there, cheering the loudest after I finish.
But I tried, Gretch, I really did. Do you remember when I found your diary full of poetry in sophom*ore year? I called it a piece of sh*t, I called you edgy, I called you everything I should have never called you. But Gretch, I tried, I really did, believe me. I remember how you hugged me after you found out I’d gotten your work published in the literary review at Northwestern? You weren’t ever going to send it to them, so I did, and they loved it. I remember you asking why I had done it, since I hated your work.
Gretch, do you remember what I said? “You’re my best friend, Gretch, I’m happy if you’re happy.” I meant that. I was sad when you were sad, and now… now that you’re gone, I’m never going to be happy again, not in the way that I was with you. Oh, sure, maybe I’ll get over it all, maybe Cady and the others will help me “heal” or whatever. It’s not the same without you, nothing’s the same without you. I’d give my life for yours in a heartbeat, you know that, right?
You know, Karen wanted to play chess with me the other day, but when I was up a knight, I couldn’t stand the thought of winning. I had to let her win, Gretch, because you would’ve let her win, just like you let me win that time. Cady saw the flute sitting abandoned on my dresser and asked if I knew how to play, and I lied to her, I told her I didn’t, not really. Now she wants to learn it with me, but I don’t know if I can anymore. It’s not the same without you, nothing’s the same without you. I miss you already, you know that, right?
And even if Janis’s art sucks, and even if Cady can’t really make a sound from the flute, and even if Karen doesn’t know all of her openings and endgames, I’ll let it go. I’ll let it go now, Gretch, because I f*cked up. I f*cked up, and I made you suffer for it. I’d like to tell myself it’s not my fault, like you told me, but you sounded so hurt, so defeated in that letter you wrote me. I’m sorry I f*cked up with you. You’ll always be my best and only. I love you, you know that, right?
Of course you don’t. That’s why you killed yourself.
Love,
Regina
P.S. You didn’t make it out alive, but that’s okay. You’re still my BFF.
P.P.S. Who am I going to send this to? I might as well tuck it into my desk drawer. Also, I know that I have the poems you gifted me somewhere. I’ll dig them out and stare at your handwriting until I can pretend you’re still here with me.
Regina doesn’t stop crying at night, so she’s stopped sleeping over with anyone else. It feels wrong to have a sleepover without Gretchen. Sure, she can teach Cady to play the flute, pretending that she has no idea how to play herself; she can play chess with Karen for hours, because the girl is actually pretty good at the game, surprisingly, she can stare at Janis’s art and pretend she likes it. Janis isn’t Gretchen, she’s not genuinely talented, but she’s trying her best. Regina doesn’t want another Gretchen, ever, because she knows she’ll lose that relationship, too.
There are days when she can’t stand to see herself in the mirror, and those are the days when she’ll barely eat or sleep. She can’t strut through the halls now that summer has begun, but she can sure as hell try. She spends more time with her friends, but really she can’t do anything without noticing the Gretchen-shaped hole in their group.
Cady is a sweetheart, but Regina prefers to spend her time playing chess with Karen. At least she doesn’t have to talk when she’s doing that, she can look at the pieces and pretend she doesn’t remember every game she’s had with Gretchen. She doesn’t have an eidetic memory; she chooses to remember what brings her the most pain.
She can’t bear to look up at Karen, to see her and realize that it isn’t Gretchen on the other side of the board, staring intently at the pieces, considering and debating every move with silent mumblings. She can’t share the same jokes and lighthearted humor with Karen as she did with Gretchen, but that’s all right.
She’s happy to teach Karen whatever she’s learned about the game, and she’s dedicated to learning more, because Gretchen always wanted to know more, and Regina wants to do everything that Gretchen ever wanted to do. Maybe that way she can imagine that Gretchen is still there with her, cheering her on with every step.
“What’s this opening called?” Karen asks, blitzing out moves. “How do you play it? I think I like it.”
“Where did you see that?” Regina asks, her breath catching in her throat.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Karen says. “It probably doesn’t exist.”
Regina sighs. “It’s the Queen’s Indian.”
She pauses before adding, “It was always Gretchen’s favorite to play. You know, I’d let her play into it because I loved watching her think for a minute, then smile, and then think again, then smile, pushing me into some trap or another that I didn’t really understand.”
“I’m sorry, Regina, I didn’t know,” Karen says softly. Regina shrugs. “It’s fine. What is it, anyway? Wood pieces on a wood board. Here, let me show you what she used to do. White goes G-three, that pawn over there, right, and then you go bishop-A-six. Not on the long diagonal, Gretchen always thought that was boring. Go there so you can hit that pawn, and then white’s gotta play there, then you go there with check, then they’ve gotta go there, and then…”
Her relationship with Cady improves. They aren’t fighting anymore, although Regina knows it hurts Cady to see Regina crying. Cady looks a little disappointed when Regina doesn’t want to touch or cuddle, but Regina’s trying, and Cady’s always supportive.
She doesn’t ever find the poetry diary, though. She swears she put it in her closet, in the top shelf, but it isn’t there, or anywhere else.
It’s only after she’s given up looking for it that Janis, led shame-faced by Cady and Damian, comes to her one day at lunch. “So… I might have something that belongs to you.”
“What?” Regina asks.
“So we might have tried to steal the burn book once, but Cady couldn’t find it, so she picked up this book instead, which definitely wasn’t the burn book but it had a pink cover so…”
Regina’s eyes widen as she gingerly takes the book from Janis. She knows what it is, but she stills opens it, seeing Gretchen’s elegant calligraphy fill the page. “Oh. That makes sense.”
Cady nudges Janis. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for keeping it so long, and I should have given it back, but I was being a bitch and holding a grudge, so I kept it and didn’t return it to you. I didn’t know that it had any sentimental value.”
“Thanks for giving it back,” Regina says, cradling the book gently. Janis raises an eyebrow. “You’re not mad at me?”
“No,” Regina says. “I finally have it back. I was worried I’d lost it forever.”
She’s practically flying around that day.
Dear Gretchen,
I’ve said sorry a million times but I want to say it again. I’m sorry for everything that happened, you didn’t deserve any of it. Cady told me today that she sent herself a candy cane once, pretending to be me, just to make you jealous. Why didn’t you talk to me, Gretch? You’re always my number one. I don’t blame you, though, because I wouldn’t have talked to myself back then.
I got your poetry diary back, though, you’ll never guess who had it. It was Janis, and she gave it back to me! I wasn’t even upset, I was just relieved. I was thinking I’d send it in somewhere, but maybe it isn’t what you would have wanted, to be turned into the second coming of Sylvia Plath. Your poetry is gorgeous, though. I wish’d I’d told you that, I wish I’d seen that when you were around.
Gretch, are you there when I’m playing chess with Karen? I swear I’ve seen you sometimes, like a ghost hovering over the board. It must be a hallucination, because you’re always smiling, and your ghost wouldn’t be smiling at me, I think. Still, it’s nice to think that you might be reading these letters, that’s why I leave them out here for you. Do you mind them? I’m sure you’ll find a way to respond, in your own way.
I want our dreams to come true, Gretch. I found a place that’ll let me perform. There won’t be big crowds, and they probably aren’t the “right audience” either, but it’s a start. It’s a jazz bar, pop in there sometimes. Maybe we can look at cute girls together — looking, no touching, I’m taken.
I feel like I have to perform the Rodrigo concerto at least once, just to be satisfied, so that I’ll know that we got what we wanted in the end. I pulled a few strings and I’ll be playing it at a local music festival, we won’t have an orchestra but it’ll be with a piano, just like the two of us used to do. Be there? I’ll write the address down at the bottom, just in case, and I’ll call it out when I leave, so you can sit in the car with me. I know I can’t make up for everything, but maybe I can do a little bit?
I read somewhere that spirits can communicate in dreams, or something like that. If you could, I’d really appreciate you trying that. I know I probably seem insane, but that’s all right. I hope to see you when I sleep. If you want to beat me up, I probably deserve it.
Hoping to see you soon,
Regina
P.S. Please don’t come into my room on Saturday night. I’m thinking of having my first time with Cady then. I haven’t asked her yet, but I know she’s been wanting to do more with me for some time now. I figure I’m ready for that now. I’ve taken your loss as if I’ve lost my girlfriend and best friend at the same time, isn’t that strange?
Dear Gretchen,
I guess this is my last letter to you. I’ll keep it short. First of all, Saturday night was fantastic, I loved every minute of it. Cady was really happy too, I think our relationship’s going to work out well.
I don’t know why you decided to dream-link with me that night, come on, I was literally naked. But it was really nice to talk to you again, to hug you again, even if you might just be a figment of my imagination. Were you ever real, anyway? You’re the most perfect girl I’ve ever met. So I won’t be writing you letters anymore, because I can talk to you in my dreams whenever you’re able to come by. If by any chance you’re really reading these and the Gretchen in my dreams isn’t you, then try to do something, make the room cold or flicker the lights or whatever. I’ll start writing letters again. It’s enough for me to know that you’re with me, in some way or another.
Playing the Rodrigo was amazing. I swear I saw you in the crowd, just for a moment, right after I finished. You were cheering for me, just like I always dreamed you would. Thank you for being there, Gretch. It means everything to me. Everything.
I’m keeping your poetry book for myself. I know it’s a little selfish, but I still want a secret between the two of us. I won’t ever show these to anyone. Janis promises that she didn’t read any (maybe the first one, but nothing else). They’re beautiful, Gretchen, and they’re a little sad at times, and they make me sad every time, but they make me happy as well. Thank you for your gift. I’ll cherish it until the moment I die.
The knife is gone from my room now, Gretch. I’m not going to hurt myself. I’ll always have you, no matter what, right? And we’ll meet in heaven someday. I’ll make sure to be good, so I can get there with you.
I was going to throw this into a postscript, but it’s too important, so I’ll tell you now: I think I was in love with you. No, not in the way that I always tell you, although I love you that way as well. Cady helped me realize that I probably liked you as a lot more than a friend throughout the last few years. I can only wish I confessed earlier.
That’s okay, though. I’m really happy with Cady, and I’m happy to have you as my best friend. I haven’t told anyone about my dreams. They’d try to take you away from me, I think, and I’d choose you over my sanity anytime. I love you, you know that, right?
Love,
Regina
