A Seven-Seat Suv Couldn’t Fit Five People. So I Stopped Being Their Tool Chapter 07

A Seven-Seat Suv Couldn’t Fit Five People. So I Stopped Being Their Tool Chapter 07

Third morning. My plan was the art museum.

I’d always loved places with history.

But on trips with them, I’d never been to one.

Mila didn’t like museums. Dorian found them boring.

Dante didn’t care but went with the majority.

The museum opened at nine. I got there at 8:50.

Only a few people in line. Quiet. Like another world.

In the third gallery, my phone rang.

Dante.

I didn’t pick up.

Second call. Dorian.

I didn’t pick up.

Third. Mila.

I hesitated. Answered.

Her side was loud. Like a mall or a pharmacy.

Mila’s voice cracked.

“Elara. I’m having an allergic reaction.”

“What?”

“That mushroom thing I ate last night. My face is covered in a rash. So itchy.”

She sniffled.

“I remembered you always bring allergy meds on trips. Where did you put

them?”

I stopped walking.

“In the side pocket of my gray suitcase. The left one.”

Halfway through, I paused.

The gray suitcase was with me.

“Elara?”

“That medicine is in my suitcase. I took it.”

Silence.

Then Dorian’s voice in the background. Impatient.

“Found it or not?”

Mila, quiet. “It’s with Elara.”

Two more seconds of silence.

Then Dante’s voice. He must have grabbed Mila’s phone.

“Elara. Mila’s face is swelling. Do you have loratadine in your suitcase?”

“Yes.”

“Can you mail it over?”

“Just buy a box at a pharmacy. There should be one nearby.”

“That’s not the point.”

His voice hardened.

“Why didn’t you leave the medicine behind? You know she’s prone to allergies.”

I stood in the middle of the museum hallway.

Light fell from the skylight. White. Still.

“Dante. That medicine is mine.”

“What?”

“The loratadine is something I bought. It’s in my suitcase because I get allergies too.”

“Since freshman year, every trip, I brought extra because Mila always forgot hers.”

“But it’s my medicine.”

He didn’t speak right away.

Dorian’s voice again. “Just go buy a box. What’s the big deal.”

“Then go buy it.”

I said it flat.

“The sunscreen wasn’t hers. I bought it for her.”

“The portable fan wasn’t hers. I packed an extra because I saw the forecast.”

“The booking codes were all made by me.”

“The hotels were compared one by one. The itinerary was planned day by day.”

“How many times did you deviate from my plan these three days?”

“Every time, you thought it didn’t matter. Because I’d clean it up.”

“But I’m not there anymore!”

I paused.

“You’re only now realizing. It’s not that you’re missing one person.”

“It’s that you’re missing the person who always cleaned up after you.”

Total silence on the line.

After a long time, Julian’s voice.

For the first time. Quiet. Like from the corner of the room.

“Elara. I’m sorry.”

I closed my eyes.

Four years. The first apology in this group of five that came with no conditions.

Not “sorry, but.” Not “sorry, you’re partly to blame.”

Just sorry.

But it was too late.

Dante took the phone again.

“When are you coming back?”

“I’m not.”

“Elara.”

“Dante. Let’s break up.”

When I said it, I thought I’d cry.

I didn’t.

My voice was steady.

“What did you say?”

“We’re breaking up.”

“You’re breaking up with me over one trip?”

“Not one.”

I leaned against the museum wall. Looked up at the white light through the skylight.

“Since Mila transferred in junior year.”

“Every time there were only four spots, I was the one cut.”

“Every time the plan changed, I was the one not told.”

“Every time someone had to give way, it was me.”

“You never once asked if I wanted to.”

“You never even thought to ask.”

Dante’s breathing was heavy.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t mean to. That’s what makes it harder to forgive.”

“Because you genuinely didn’t see me.”

Mila’s muffled crying on the line.

Dorian, for once, silent.

I took a breath.

“The itinerary’s in the group files. Password’s my birthday.”

“You probably don’t remember. 0319.”

“Get the medicine at the nearest pharmacy. Loratadine or cetirizine. Either works.”