I open my eyes at six-thirty in the morning. Lydia sent me a few articles last night about how the best writers always start their days early so they can get an hour or so of writing in. My Frida Nipple post is due in a few days and I haven’t even begun to think about what this week’s topic will be.
It has to be something salacious now that people are paying attention to Triple X. I’m going to brainstorm topics and ask Delilah for her thoughts. I’m also not sure if I should bring up what Lydia told me last night. We’re not meeting until ten so I’ve got time.
*
“So I’m torn between writing about birth control and contraceptives on campus, the best kissing techniques, and maybe writing a response to the New York Times article?” I take a sip of my oat milk mocha and try to read Delilah’s blank expression.
Delilah’s been a little off the whole morning. When I walked into Braxton’s she had already ordered her black coffee and was sitting in a new spot. When I asked her how she was doing she barely looked up from her phone. I’ve been tempted for the past thirty minutes to make up an excuse for needing to leave.
“Do you like any of those ideas?” I look at Delilah and try to read any signs of interest. She wraps herself in her thrifted cheetah print coat. The smell of stale cigarettes and mothballs wafts out of her sleeves.
“I think Frida definitely needs to write a response to the New York Times article. We need to ride this wave while we’re still relevant. Can you write something by tonight? We’re already losing traffic on the site.” Delilah holds her phone up and shows me bar charts depicting view counts and high traffic times.
“Should I include the contraceptives on campus bit? People are wanting to know why the protest happened.”
Delilah rolls her eyes, “If they have to ask why it happened they obviously don’t know shit about the movement. Besides, isn’t your roomie concocting an expose on us?”
I choke on my drink. Is Delilah saying she knows that I’m technically an undercover reporter? There’s no way.
“I mean, she was there yesterday. She was interviewing a few people about the protest and what was going on. Lydia’s also definitely supportive of reproductive rights. I don’t think I’d call whatever she’s writing an expose. She’s just reporting on it.”
Delilah raises an eyebrow, “So is this when you start grilling me about Lydia?”
I’m caught off guard. Delilah is being...volatile almost. She’s never been anything but carefree and fun. I consider her a living daydream so this new attitude is going to take some adjusting to.
“I just want to know what happened between you two. I love Lydia. She’s been one of my best friends ever since freshman year.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be in such a bitchy mood but I just feel weird. There’s so much going on with Triple X and I just want everything to go smoothly. I was a totally different person when Lydia and I were friends and I don’t really like who I was then. It sucks having all those memories resurface you know?” Delilah’s face softens and everything I like about her starts to glow.
She continues, “So what do you want to know? Has she really not told you anything that happened?”
I set my coffee down. I have a feeling I should be calculated in how I approach this.
“Um, Lydia told me that you guys wrote Twilight fanfiction together.”
Delilah starts to laugh, “I actually forgot about that. That’s funny. Yeah we were fucking freaks about the Twilight series. We actually thought that the person that wrote Fifty Shades of Grey stole our idea.”
She adjusts in her seat, “I’m trying to think how we met. I moved here when we were starting seventh grade? Believe it or not I was a pretty quiet kid. Spent more time reading books than hanging out with friends. You’ve seen the trope.”
“Is that where the quirky girl narrative came from? You kind of have an obsession with being the main character.”
Delilah punches my arm, “Shut the fuck up Frida.” She looks around the room, “It just kind of all got fucked up. Believe it or not but my parents are super conservative. Like, the kind of people that donate to Chick-Fil-A and scheduled a session with a child counselor when they saw porn in our desktop computer’s browser history.”
“They must be so proud of you and Triple X.” I tease.
“They actually don’t know about it. Or, if they do they pretend not to.” She looks at her phone, “But basically Lyd and I became inseparable. It was nice to have someone that just...got it. I didn’t have to pretend to know things or like things I didn’t. We could just be ourselves. Our friendship became routine at one point. Like it’d be weird if we didn’t call each other after school.”
Everything she’s saying lines up with what Lydia told me last night. “So, what happened?”
Delilah takes a sip of coffee, “This is what I mean when I say I was a different person then. There were rumors going around that we were gay for each other. Just stupid high school rumors. Or, at least that’s what Lydia would say. To be honest I did start having a little crush on her. But there’s no way in hell that I would ever tell her that at the time. So, I was a fucking idiot and kind of blew the friendship up. I was terrified my parents would hear about it and they were already disappointed in me for not being a popular sporty girl.”
She pauses and her eyes start to well up with tears. It’s not fair that girls like Delilah look pretty when they cry.
“What do you mean you blew the friendship up?” I ask.
“Well, when people teased me in the hallway I had just had enough. I put everything on Lydia. I said that she was obsessed with me and had tried to make out with me and that I wasn’t allowed to have sleepovers with lesbians. I completely cut her out. And--I know, it’s fucked up. I’m so embarrassed about all of it. That’s why I pretended to not know her. I’d kind of hoped the world would be big enough for the whole thing to stay in the past.” Delilah’s eyes that had always been beautiful appear a little more sinister. Could she still be a fuck the man kind of person if all she cares about is preserving herself?
“Delilah...that’s kind of fucked up.” I bite my lip and hope I didn’t cross a line. My stomach feels funny. Why do I still want Delilah to like me even when I know she’s done something so cruel?
“You’re telling me. I wrote my college essay about it. It’s honestly why I fought for a Triple X chapter to start up at Pioneer. I don’t want shame to end another friendship you know.”
Is Triple X actually ending shame? Every time I’m in a meeting I feel like all it does is shine a light on my shame.
“Delilah I think you should talk to Lydia.”
“We’ll see.”
*
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