Perfect Fifths_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [73]
Jessica felt far worse about how she had mistreated Len, who really was as sweet, smart, and sensitive as Couchsurfeminist boasted. Len, who, to his never-ending credit, disavowed these online rumors. (“The song is fiction but is inspired by universal truths about breakups and broken hearts.”) Len, who had never done anything wrong except for the fatal, natal error of not being born into this world as Marcus Flutie. Len, whom Jessica had conned into believing would finally have the grown-up relationship he had always wished for and always deserved. Len, who, when so callously informed otherwise (“It was just a one-night thing, Len”), coped with his pain and jealousy the only way he knew how. There’s no doubt in Jessica’s mind that Len is even more surprised than she is that his therapeutic outpouring has gone so very public.
Just twenty-four hours ago, Jessica couldn’t think of anything to say to Sunny. But now she’s convinced she could station herself by the hospital bed for hours, telling stories. If Len’s song was the most prominent omission from their conversation, she could tell Sunny about how the opposite was also true, that Marcus had conspicuously asked or spoken about major and minor characters from their past—Bridget and Percy, Scotty and Sara, Paul Parlipiano and Mac, Bethany and Marin, her parents, her employer/founder of Do Better, her landlady in Brooklyn, even her AP English teacher, Ms. Haviland, for Christ’s sake—before bringing himself to ask about the person he’d known longest (longer than Jessica, even) and best (though not better than Jessica): Hope. And even more revealing than his reluctance to ask about Hope was Jessica’s shameful first response (“She dropped out of school!”), which was by far the most negative and least significant part of her best friend’s life. Not only did Jessica still feel irrationally threatened by Hope’s status as the Nice One, but Marcus had sensed as much, a truth that seemed so unfair to Jessica, as if this one stubborn flaw in her character proved she hadn’t evolved at all in the three years since she and Marcus had parted ways.
Yes, Jessica could squeeze a valuable life lesson out of this unflattering confession (I tried to make Hope look bad to make myself look better. This strategy never works, Sunny. Never.), one that could teach her teenage mentee about the complicated dynamics of friendship between two women of any age, one Sunny could draw upon should she ever be in the position to forgive her own best friend (a girl named Leah, who, like Hope, is the shyer, more unassuming, and nicer of the two) the next time she does something (like being nice for no good reason) that tests their bond. Jessica would also have to point out—darkly, sardonically—how such tedious pedantry isn’t necessary for the likes of Hope or Leah because such forgiveness comes naturally to them. Signing on as the primary beneficiary of their best friends’ compassion is the great advantage to being the Not So Nice One, but also the greatest burden. That so much niceness ultimately contributes to feelings of guilt and inadequacy is something Jessica knows only too well.
Many friends and family members have tried to perform what Jessica called “interwenchions” to save her from a lifetime of bitching and bitterness. Even Marcus, who always told her that he loved her for who she was, often tried to make her see how oppressive her bad attitude could be. Though it was never said, Jessica had always assumed Marcus wished she could be just a little bit more like her optimistic, open-minded best friend. Why can’t you be yourself but just a little bit nicer? It was this unspoken question that at the time, but even more