I’m not proud of what happened after, but that was the day Byrdie ceased to exist.
Or, at least, it was the day I tried to make her disappear.
It feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out with a vacuum. Cline is staring at Audrey with the most intense expression, and I’m trying to decipher if it’s betrayal or disappointment. Like what she’s just divulged came out of her so easily. She’s just admitted to having one of the saddest origins I’ve ever heard of, and yet she’s standing here, holding my hand and shaking it like we’re making a business wager of some kind.
“Is that not tragic enough for you?” Her head leans a little to the left as she lets go of my palm. “There’s more, if you need it. But I’d like to make a request for my character.”
“Sure.” It’s really all I can offer at this point.
“I want my girl to ride a unicorn. And I want the unicorn to shit rainbow cookies as a defense.”
The mental picture of Audrey atop a unicorn as it drops rainbow-colored cookie bombs breaks whatever heaviness there was in the room mere seconds ago, and I let out an awkward laugh that’s a cross between a choke and a hyena bark.
“I’m serious. Cookie-shitting unicorn or nothing, Elliot.” Her smile is shaky, but her voice is strong, and it does not go unnoticed by Cline.
“Are you being serious right now?” He is bracing himself against the counter, his full attention on the girl staring back at him with a blank expression.
“Yeah. If I’m gonna be in a video game, I want some artistic license. I have no idea what he was planning to do with the character of the ex, but I’m sure it wasn’t half as bad ass as—“
“Shut up.” He slams his fist down and steps toward her, making her take one back. “Just, shut up. Why are you even here? It’s been, like, six years since you’ve even spoken to me after you ran away, or whatever, and now you’re in my place and hanging out with my best friend. You're gonna ride a unicorn in his game?”
“If I can interject, there really isn’t use for a unicorn in the game at all. It’s a military game based off of my father’s old journals.” I raise my finger to stop them from going further, but it goes unnoticed.
“What part do you get to play? Are you the best friend in the game?” She’s seriously asking, and Cline’s face goes bright red. “You’re a great best friend until you’re not anymore.”
“That’s called projecting, isn’t it? I took a psych class, too.” He spits back at her.
The stand-off in my kitchen makes no sense to me at all right now. I notice Audrey’s left hand twitch, and her fingers start tapping against her palm one after the other as she stares directly at Cline. It’s a pattern, but I can’t make it out. Suddenly, it stops and she turns to me.
“I don’t have very much information on my mom. My grandma keeps all her stuff at her house in North Carolina, and she doesn’t have anything to do with me since I’m the devil spawn that killed her only daughter. And if you want to know about my dad, I don’t have any information on him either.”
“Bullshit. What are you talking about? Your dad gave you everything you ever wanted. I know. I was there. You have been so messed up since you ran away when we were fifteen.” Cline reaches out and pushes her shoulder just the slightest bit to make her acknowledge him again.
She braces herself before turning and facing him once more, some sort of helplessness in her eyes when she answers. “First, I’m glad the story about me running away has stuck after all these years. Patrick and Miranda did a great job selling that one. But since you’re finally interested in the truth, my father didn’t give me jack shit, Cline. Patrick Byrd took care of some other guy’s baby because his wife gave birth to it. Put his name on it. I have no idea who my real father is.
“I don’t know a thing about my mom. I have no idea who my dad is. And everything you thought you knew about me was a complete lie. How’s that for some bullshit?” She addresses me again. “Sorry. Is that enough to get me onto a unicorn in your game or not?”
My room is a mess, and I’m trying to throw piles of clothes into the corner so Audrey can sit down at my desk. Her fingers are doing that thing again while she waits but I ignore it while I shove the last sock under the bed with my foot and turn around to face her. With both hands splayed open, I shrug. “Have a seat.”
She’s looking around the room at my sculptures and wirework, her gaze lingering on sketches of faces and some renderings I’ve printed off to work on during the break. “You don’t suck at this, you know.”