“That was so wonderful!” Suz and Nat say, and another firework goes off in the distance.
Phoebe looks at Lila. Points to her own teeth.
“Oh,” Lila says. “Excuse me.”
“WAS JIM SERIOUSLY just hitting on me during his best man speech?” Lila asks as soon as they are in the bathroom. “Why is he like that?”
“Because he loves you,” Phoebe blurts out.
“He does not love me. He’s had about fifteen girlfriends since I met him,” Lila says. “He doesn’t love anyone.”
“That’s not true, and you know it. Jim’s actually a pretty good guy.”
Lila turns to the mirror.
“God, why do I always get food stuck in this one little spot,” Lila says. She blames this on her mother, too. Her teeth are too crowded in her mouth. Too big and white and shiny. She picks at her teeth, and the gesture is so familiar, it makes Phoebe feel like they are back having their first conversation in the Roaring Twenties.
“Well, you just don’t say things like that in a best man speech,” Lila says. “He never knows what’s appropriate. He’s like, feral or something.”
“But isn’t that what you like about him?” Phoebe asks.
“What do you mean?”
“That he just says things. That he calls you on your shit.”
“My shit? What shit?”
“I mean, he tells you the truth. Makes a stupid joke about your mom’s painting and makes you laugh.”
Lila turns to Phoebe. “If he loves me, then why is he hitting on you, too?”
“Because you’re getting married tomorrow!” Phoebe says. “I’m his backup plan. His consolation fuck.”
“Wait, are you going to fuck Jim?”
“There’s a decent chance I might, yes.”
“So something really is happening between you two? I kept telling Gary that I couldn’t picture it.”
“Why not?” Phoebe asks.
“You’re like, so not his type.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re just very brainy. In a really lovable kind of way. But you’re not a cheerleader type, you know? You’re a little … well, suicidal.”
Phoebe is shocked by how casually she says it. As if it’s no big deal to be suicidal. To have shown up here wanting to die. As if this is just another one of Phoebe’s lovable quirks.
“Yeah. And did you ever wonder why I was suicidal?” Phoebe asks. “Did you ever once ask me, Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Well, I didn’t want to pry.”
“No,” Phoebe says. “You just wanted to talk at me. You don’t care what I have to say.”
“That’s not true,” Lila says. “I literally asked you to stand up and give a speech at my wedding.”
“Yeah, and then you cut it.”
“I really don’t have time for a fight,” Lila says. “This is my rehearsal dinner.”
So perhaps they aren’t going to be friends. Perhaps they are back where they started, Lila obsessed with making sure that nothing ruins her perfect wedding, and Phoebe, always just about to ruin it. Perhaps there really is no such thing as friendship, just as Phoebe thought on the darkest nights back at home.
But Phoebe can’t let herself fully believe this. It seems truer to say that friendship is just hard. It requires radical honesty. A kind of openness that Phoebe felt for the first time in her life that night she arrived at the hotel, so free and unburdened by anything. So ready to leave this world. But now she is no longer free—she is a person at this wedding, and the responsibilities of being a good friend have already started to change her. She can feel herself wanting to hide things from Lila. Nurture secret feelings in the dark of her mind, because total honesty is terrifying. It feels like it can ruin everything. And maybe this is what Patricia meant about saving yourself. What the Sex Woman meant when she said that Phoebe, for the rest of her life, would have to keep “checking in.” Look in the mirror and repeatedly ask herself, Am I being honest right now?
“Can I be honest with you about something?” Phoebe asks.
Phoebe doesn’t want to be like Mia. She doesn’t want to pretend that her feelings for Gary aren’t a real thing growing between them. But she doesn’t know what being honest in this moment means. Is telling the bride about her feelings for the groom the most selfish act or the noblest act? She doesn’t know. The only thing she can think to do is let the bride decide.
“I mean, when do you ever hold back?” Lila asks. “Isn’t that kind of your thing?”
“Is it?”
“The first time I met you, you told me you wanted to kill yourself.”
Phoebe nods. It seems unbelievable to her that she would have told a total stranger that, but now Phoebe can see it clearly as an act of desperation.
“I’m sorry I did that to you,” Phoebe says.
