Chapter 9

The happy hour on Wednesday, the 23rd, was set at a burger bar in Wahpeton called The Rusty Grill, a place that June and Donna had visited a few times before. It was the kind of casual, laid-back spot where they could unwind, but this time, June knew it was going to be anything but relaxed. After a rough day at work, where the head of her department had unleashed a particularly sharp rebuke when the team missed an important milestone, June was already on edge. The stress from work weighed heavily on her, and the prospect of setting the friendship boundary with Donna added another layer of anxiety.

As they settled into their booth, June could feel the panic building. The lively chatter around them, the clinking of glasses, and the mouthwatering scent of burgers sizzling on the grill did little to calm her nerves. Donna, perceptive as always, noticed June’s unease. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she started goofing around with the staff, cracking jokes, and trying to pull June into a conversation about future visits to her house. But despite Donna’s best efforts, June couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her stomach.

Finally, with her heart pounding, June took a deep breath and laid it all on the line. "Donna, I need to be honest with you. I really value our friendship, but I can’t keep pretending to have romantic feelings that just aren’t there. I want us to be friends—just friends."

Donna’s face fell, the playful light in her eyes dimming as she realized what June was saying. To Donna, it felt like a breakup, and she struggled to hold back tears. "Are you sure, June? Did you ever love me?" she asked, her voice tinged with sadness.

June’s heart ached seeing Donna so upset, but she knew she had to hold firm. "I do love you, Donna," she thought to herself gently. "But it’s not in the way you want. It’s in the way I love a sister, a best friend. This boundary needs to hold—for both of us."

That’s what June should have said, and how she should have said it. Instead, for reasons June could not explain, she dramatically exclaimed, “I fucking love you!”  It unsettled both of them, and they sat quietly for a few moments.  Donna with tears in her eyes, and June with her platonic heart on her sleeve.  Neither seemed to know what else to say.

They eventually made their way out to the parking lot, where they sat in June’s car, lingering in the emotional aftermath of the conversation. Donna, still reeling from the "breakup," strained against the boundary June had set, trying one last time to appeal to keeping the romance going. But June, feeling a surprising sense of calm and peace, gently reminded her, "This is what I really want, Donna. We need to be friends, nothing more."

For a moment, there was a tense silence, and then, as if something clicked, Donna seemed to brighten up. "Okay, June," she said, almost cheerfully, "but I really need to pee." With that, she gave June a quick smile, said, "Goodbye," and got out of the car. With a final wave, she hurried off to her own car, eager to get home, and drove off.

As Donna’s car disappeared into the distance, a rush of elation washed over June. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and in its place was a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt in a long time. She turned on one of her old playlists, and as Aerosmith’s "What It Takes" started playing, she couldn’t help but sing along at the top of her lungs. The drive home was euphoric, every note of the song fueling her sense of liberation. For the first time in what felt like forever, June felt strangely, wonderfully free.

When Donna got home, she sent June a text, as was their custom. In it, she asked June to forgive her emotional reaction earlier in the evening and reminded her that communication was key to any type of relationship. Donna then offered a thoughtful, supportive comment: "The business of life is the acquisition of memories. In the end, that’s all there is. I hope we can continue to create long-lasting memories together as friends."

As June read Donna’s message, she felt a surge of joy that was hard to describe. That hadn’t been so difficult after all! Donna was going to be okay—what had she been so worried about? With a sense of relief, she responded to Donna’s text, affirming that she was also looking forward to their continued friendship. 

She ended the message with a simple, heartfelt “I love you,” before putting her phone down and getting ready for bed.

As June lay beside Hadrian, her mind buzzed with excitement over what she had just accomplished. The conversation with Donna had been a significant step, and she felt lighter, freer. The emotions were so overwhelming that she couldn’t keep them to herself. She gently nudged Hadrian, who was already half-asleep, and asked if they could talk.

Hadrian, who woke up early every morning for his rigorous religious workouts, was usually in bed by 8:30 or 9 p.m., long before June typically returned from her dinners with Donna. To her surprise, he murmured, “Sure,” still groggy but willing to listen.

June recounted what had happened with Donna, explaining the significance of setting that boundary and how it felt like a monumental shift in her life. But as she spoke, she realized that Hadrian seemed almost entirely unfazed by the whole thing. He listened quietly, nodded a few times, but didn’t grasp the magnitude of what she had done. His lack of reaction puzzled and frustrated her. For June, this had been a pivotal moment, but for Hadrian, it was just another conversation.

Eventually, he turned over and went back to sleep, leaving June lying awake, trying to understand his nonchalance. The excitement that had kept her buzzing earlier now mingled with a sense of loneliness as she struggled to fall asleep, her mind still racing long after Hadrian’s even breathing signaled that he had drifted off into slumber.

The next day, June couldn't shake her lingering worry about Donna, so she decided to check in. She knew how debilitating Donna's anxiety could be, and the guilt of "breaking up" with her friend weighed heavily on her. When Donna responded, she assured June that she was okay but admitted that she was struggling to fend off destructive inner dialogue. June, feeling a pang of guilt herself, confided that she, too, had trouble sleeping and had been anxious all day. Donna seemed surprised by this, almost as if she couldn’t understand why June would be feeling this way.

June, a bit exasperated by Donna's questioning, explained that it was a leftover feeling from the "breakup" the day before. Donna admitted that she had been obsessing over whether she had done something wrong, fearing that she might have hurt June in some way. June assured her that she hadn’t. However, deep down, June couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the one who had hurt Donna, causing pain by setting the boundary that was necessary but difficult.

After some more conversation, mostly about the terrible weather and slick roads, they said their goodbyes. Then there was silence for three or four days—an eerie quiet that left June feeling unsettled.

Since setting the friendship boundary, and the subsequent silence from Donna, June struggled to sleep. Hadrian didn’t seem to notice; he went to bed before her each night and was up at the crack of dawn, by which time June had finally drifted off. June knew she had to tell Hadrian directly about her struggles, so one evening, she mentioned her sleeplessness and anxiety. She asked him to let her know if he became concerned about her. He didn’t seem worried and agreed to keep an eye on her, but June could sense that it wasn’t really registering with him.

As the end of the month approached, June found herself worrying again about Donna. The silence between them felt odd, so she decided to check in and make sure Donna was still planning to meet up for happy hour the following Wednesday. June texted Donna during a break mid-morning, and Donna replied, saying yes—if June was still okay with it. Donna added that it was lonely in her head, but she was managing.

June found herself puzzled by Donna’s hesitation. Why wouldn’t she be okay with happy hour? It felt strange to her, but she didn’t know what to make of it, so she ignored the feeling and continued texting. June mentioned that she, too, was struggling with feelings she didn’t fully understand and was scared of having another manic episode. She reassured Donna that Hadrian was keeping an eye on her and that she had an upcoming therapy session with Solin in a few days. Hearing that Donna was also managing helped June worry a little less.

But then Donna turned the tables, expressing her concern for June. She suggested they get Indian food at a place down the street from June’s house and then go back to June’s place afterward. Immediately, June felt her stomach tighten with anxiety. Why did Donna want to come to her house? With COVID restrictions over, they had only ever had happy hours at each other’s houses because going out wasn’t an option. Something felt off to June. She didn’t want an emotional encounter with Donna at home, not with her husband and children around, even if they did have a private space in the basement bar. She wondered what Donna was thinking.

Just then, June received a text from Solin, letting her know that there was an opening the next day. June was relieved—she desperately needed to talk to Solin about her symptoms. She texted Donna back, saying that Indian food sounded great but clarifying that Donna meant to eat at the restaurant, didn’t she? June didn’t want to have Donna at her house, even if she didn’t say it outright. She reassured Donna that she had an appointment with Solin the next day and would have help working through her situation.

Donna confirmed that she did mean to eat at the restaurant but suggested that afterward, it might be more comfortable to go back to June’s house. Donna added that she was glad June had secured an appointment with Solin. June responded, “Cool, I’ll see you on Wednesday, then! I’ll make the reservations if that works for you.” Donna agreed, and June ended the conversation with her trademark emoji, a blushing smiley face.

June remembered how, early in their relationship, Donna had attempted to establish "semantic unification" around emojis, something that had exhausted June. Donna wanted consistency, but June’s emoji use was more spontaneous—she chose them based on how she felt at the moment. After a disagreement over a smiley face with sunglasses, June decided to simplify things for Donna by just using one traditional emoji to indicate contentment—the blushing smiley face.

Later that night, Donna called June, which was unusual. Donna never called June. The unexpected call made June’s heart pound with fear. What could this be about? The conversation that followed was strange, almost as if Donna was trying to feel her out, seeking reassurance that June still loved her, even if only as a friend. June quickly affirmed that she did, reminding Donna that just because she didn’t want to hold hands and kiss anymore didn’t mean she didn’t love her.

After a few more moments of awkward small talk, Donna finally spoke up.

“June?” Donna said hesitantly.

“Yes,” June replied, just as hesitantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not a bad person. I’m not a sociopath,” Donna whimpered, barely able to control her emotions.

“I know, Donna. I’m sorry I called your sister that, too. She’s not a sociopath, either. She’s a deeply wounded human being,” June said, and she meant it.

June understood the context. If there was anyone in the world that Donna did not want to be like, it was her sister. Donna’s older sister Lisa had been so callous and cruel at times that when Donna shared stories about her, June had exclaimed that Lisa sounded like a sociopath. It was a harsh judgment, one that June regretted.

It was strange, too, since June had worked with Donna’s sister Lisa years before she joined Everland, back when she was still a software developer. Lisa was a Web Developer there—a very charismatic and classically pretty woman. "Smallkaska" they joked when they realized the connection the first time Donna showed June a picture of Lisa. Makaska was small, but still the biggest little city in the Midwest. Coincidences like this seemed to happen a lot in their town, where it was large enough to feel like destiny, but small enough to know it wasn’t.

Lisa had a vicious temper and had terrorized Donna when they were younger. Five years older and much more worldly, Lisa often set Donna up to take the blame for their altercations. Forced to watch over Donna frequently, Lisa was far from thrilled with the responsibility. She locked Donna out of the house when she babysat, confined her to her room under threat of a knife thrown at her door, and once even ran her down with a car while Donna was riding her bicycle, then threw her over a bridge, leaving her bleeding on the rocks below.

It was Lisa who introduced Donna to drugs as a teen, and Lisa who refused to take birth control, fearing weight gain, only to have multiple abortions. Once, Lisa was pregnant with twins and decided to keep them, but tragically, she had a miscarriage when they were far along. Donna had been the one to hold the babies as they died, while Lisa had a friend sneak in booze so they could drink and laugh at a TV show as the babies passed away. Stories like these boiled June’s blood. She couldn’t understand how Donna and her sister remained connected—Lisa had never apologized and continued to be a self-centered addict who used everyone around her for her own purposes.

Donna often spoke wistfully about how, when she was little and scared at night, she would wake up and see little colored bubbles in the light that would lead her into Lisa’s room, where Lisa would welcome her into bed and snuggle her in tight, making her feel safe. June thought it was no wonder that physical touch was Donna’s love language.

She felt bad that she couldn’t let Donna hold her hand anymore, but she knew that was the gateway. Holding hands had always led back to kissing every time she had tried to establish just a friendship with Donna in the past. That’s why June had been so firm about setting a boundary around physical touch on the 23rd: from now on, it would be mom-hugs only.

Girl, Interrupted (1999)

Lisa Rowe: We are very rare and we are mostly men.

Janet Webber: Lisa thinks she's hot sh*t 'cause she's a sociopath.

Cynthia Crowley: I'm a sociopath.

Lisa Rowe: No, you're a dyke.

Susanna Kaysen: [reading from a book] "Borderline Personality Disorder. An instability of self-image, relationships and moods... uncertainty about goals, impulsive in activities that are self-damaging, such as casual sex…Social contrariness and a generally pessimistic attitude and often observed" Well, that's me.

Lisa Rowe: That's everybody.