by F N Manning
Of course I do. Yet I didn’t say that. “Cal, we just need to think about this. Everything is already stacked against us.”
Cal scoffed. “You want to give up before we even try?”
“I don’t know, I…” Shit. I wanted to stop and think. I wanted to figure out why Cal was being so insistent. I couldn’t figure out how to defuse the situation but was getting annoyed that I couldn’t and that Cal wouldn’t freaking listen to me. I stepped back when he stepped forward towards me.
“Don’t run away like always when things get tough,” Cal snapped.
I flinched. “Cal, we both need to cool off.”
He shook his head. “How convenient for you then that it means you can avoid a serious conversation.”
“You’re not listening to me!” I blamed that on why I raised my voice.
“Well, here’s your chance to be heard.” He laughed humorlessly. “Is any of this real? Are you just saying you’re dating me so we can sleep together?”
“I shouldn’t have to convince you.” Shit. This was going all wrong. We needed to talk. I needed to say the right things. All the opportunities I had earlier mocked me now. I let it go, didn’t broach anything serious, didn’t explain why I ran away when April lost and now it was too much and I couldn’t make the right words come out. I should have earlier, should have practiced. Here I was with no experience when I needed it.
“Because I should just trust you?” he asked with derision. “What, like you trust me?”
Goddammit. “I can’t be your everything.” If he didn’t want to go to Princeton, my presence wouldn’t improve it. It would be a situation he didn’t like or want and I’d be part of it, making me part of everything he didn’t want.
“You’re enough,” he insisted. “You could be.”
“I don’t want to be. That’s too much pressure.” I wanted to shake him until he understood.
Cal stopped me from going further away, clutching at me with desperate hands. “Max, please, I have no clue about anything anymore. What my future holds, my life, everything is falling apart. I just need you.”
Was I being a jerk? I didn’t know how to hold him and help him. This felt like more than that. “Your future is about you, not me.” I gently removed his hands and turned away. We could talk later. Fix this later. I wasn’t running away. I really hoped I wasn’t running away. It felt like I was doing the wrong thing and the right thing at the same time. The wrong thing for me but the right thing for him. It had to be enough. “Maybe we just need to take a break. Figure things out individually first.”
His blue eyes widened in hurt. Fuck. “Max, don’t, don’t do this.”
“You can do better than me anyway, Cal.” And wow was that totally not what I meant to say. I wanted to say another reasonable thing, not something self-defeating, self-pitying bullshit.
Now Cal looked angry. “You’ve made your distaste for my ‘connections and money’ clear, so don’t pretend like you give a damn about that.”
“Maybe I’m not right for you.” Goddammit. This was so, so not what I wanted to say. I was doing the right thing. Or I had been. This felt like something else. Those annoying words rattled around in my brain again. Bipolar disorder.
“At least fucking be honest,” Cal spat. “I don’t need some flimsy excuse.”
“I’m sorry. I’m. It’s complicated.” Those words were so inadequate. But there was one bright side. I said we should take a break. That meant I didn’t have to tell him. I got to end things instead of the other way around.
“Then let me explain it. Either this whole thing was a lie or you’re being a pathetic coward. Which is it?”
“No, you know what? Fuck you, Cal,” I said because I knew it wasn’t the first one and I was desperately trying to convince myself it wasn’t the second.
“That’s all you have to say?” He laughed without humor. “Maybe it’s both then.”
I didn’t run away this time because he left instead, getting into his car and driving away.
ra-ˌprōsh-ˈmäⁿ or ra-ˈprōsh-ˌmäⁿ, noun
establishment of stable relations
Max and Cal assess the liklihood of ra-ˌprōsh-ˈmäⁿ.
Chapter 16
R-A-P-P-R-O-C-H-E-M-E-N-T
For someone who had so little experience being irrational, I was awfully good at it. Maybe it was there under the surface the whole time. I acted calm and sensible, but it had just been waiting to be unleashed. And once it was, it was impossible to stop.
I didn’t want to be controlled by my parents. Knowing that was easier than making it happen. Their obvious instructions, like wanting me to go to Princeton, I could defend against. Even when they weren’t telling me what to do, they could still influence my actions. I had wanted to approach the situation with me and Max rationally. After a few words from my father, I spiraled into chaos.
I’d never been one to put everything into relationships. That had been the problem with Katie. I didn’t make her enough of a priority. Then my future seemed uncertain and I decided to make Max everything. I went overboard, wanting to throw myself into our relationship.
Thoughts of Max hurt, and it was impossible not to compare. With Katie, the breakup had been devastating. The reasons for the heartache were vastly different though. I hadn’t seen the split with Katie coming, I didn’t like surprises, and it wasn’t according to plan. I wanted to get her back because that seemed the best way to get back on track. The sadness and wallowing I wanted to succumb to was because being dumped hurt.
With Max… Did I want him back? Yes. No. I had no idea how he even felt about me. If it was my stupid hysterics that put him off or he really didn’t care. This pain was entirely different, and I didn’t know how to go on and act normal while feeling it. I also didn’t want to sign up for it again and give every last little piece of my heart to him, including the pieces he didn’t have before so that he could break those too.
The pain of being without him was present all the time, never far. I couldn’t go out and find someone new to get over him. I could but the thought sickened me. The whole time it’d be a comparison and whoever I found wouldn’t compare. I wanted him.
I needed to put him out of my head to figure out my future but that wasn’t easy when I kept hearing his words. They were stupid, simple words. They should be obvious. They shouldn’t carry this much weight. I kept thinking about how he told me that my future was about me. Duh. I knew that.
My future was about me. All the pressure and responsibilities, I’d accepted them and gladly carried their weight for so long. If I wanted to continue down that path, then living up to my parents’ expectations was par for the course. But I didn’t have to. Because my future was about me. Whether my family paid for school or not, whether I experienced setbacks or not. I should be the one choosing. Maybe I wanted to factor my parents in, maybe I wanted to factor Max in, but my future was mine. I was the one that had to live every day and make that future a reality. I was the one who got to decide.
Getting consumed by thoughts of Max was easy. I’d been scared but just because he wasn’t the same way didn’t necessarily mean anything. I wanted an outlet, something for myself, a break from my life. Max was that and more. Max hadn’t planned for me and didn’t want a boyfriend. He tried anyway, dated me anyway. Maybe that was what mattered. He had a point though. I had to come up for air and think about more than him and us. Life went on.
Brendan was the best reminder of that. He was the other person in my life that brought me the most joy. I found him at the table in the brunch nook doing homework. His before practice snack sat untouched near his books.
“Hey, shouldn’t you be putting on your gear?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered without facing me, not looking up from his work.
He loved practice. “They lectured you when I wasn’t around, didn’t they?” I really thought I’d protected him. They’d just waited to approach him until I was too preoccupied with something
else.
“If I can’t even make Nationals, I have too many hobbies,” he recited, scowling down at his work.
I sighed. “That’s what they said, not you.”
Brendan looked up at me for a moment before shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
I sat down next to him. “No, I do.” I gently reached over and shut his book so we could talk. He sighed again and crossed his arms but didn’t say anything, so I took the reluctant sulking as a win. “I know they can be pretty tough,” I prompted.
“It’s not a big deal,” he tried. He didn’t seem happy having this conversation, but the words sounded sincere. He was a much better liar than me.
“Brendan, I know how much you like football.”
“No, you don’t understand.” He groaned and looked around. No one else was in the kitchen at the moment. “I patched things up with Eric,” he explained. “He can take me to practice next year, and I’ll just say I’m studying with him.” He interpreted my surprise as hesitation. “Don’t tell them,” he rushed to add.
Oh. He didn’t care about going to practice while mom and dad were disappointed with him because he’d already figured out a plan to get around our parents when I wouldn’t be around to drive him. Part of me was proud at how smart and resourceful my little brother was. The other side felt sad as that was a lot of effort to hide something as innocent as football practice.
“No, I won’t,” I assured him. “You shouldn’t have to do all that.”
He waved that off. “I’m getting better at hiding stuff from them.” That was even worse. All kids hid stuff from their parents. Okay, I didn’t. Until Max. Smoking pot, getting a belly piercing, and sneaking drinks from the liquor cabinet were the kinds of things kids hid. Not playing a recreational sport.
“You did great this year, Brendan,” I assured him.
He snorted. “Winning the school bee? Who cares?” He looked down. “I’m never good enough. It doesn’t matter if I succeed or fail because there’s always something more I’m not doing. There is no good enough. What’s the point of even trying at all?”
I’d had the same thoughts, but Brendan was so young and didn’t deserve the pressure and worry I faced. I was beginning to see that I may not deserve it either. Still, I wanted to protect him. “Don’t give up hope. Next time mom and dad are too much, you talk to me.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said without conviction.
“I mean it. I stood up to them once.” I smiled wistfully at the reminder of that night before everything went wrong.
“How did that go?” he asked
It was terrifying and terrible, but I was better off for doing it. I didn’t even know I could stand up to them until I did. That didn’t mean just the thought of it didn’t conjure up panic, but I put on a brave face for Brendan. “It’s a work in progress.” There was one thing I was sure of. “I’d stand up to them again. I want to, for you.”
I was trying to work up the nerve to face them again and talk about college, Max, and my uncertain future. When it came to Brendan, it seemed simple. Doing the brave thing for myself was difficult but for him it felt right. “You’re worth it Brendan,” I continued. “Don’t feel like you have to deal with them alone. I haven’t been the best at this, but I’m here for you.”
He stared at me blankly. I barely breathed. Finally, he nodded.
“Shouldn’t we go to practice?” I asked.
“They still don’t want me doing football anymore.”
That’s next year. We could figure that out later. For now, “You’ve already committed this year and we follow through on our commitments, right?” That had been a mantra for years. I’d sign up to too many things, stretch myself too thin and then when I realized and wanted to drop something, I was met with the line that ‘Winthrop-Scotts follow through.’ Now we could use it.
Brendan grinned at that. “Right.”
***
Max
Cal and I were over. I should go out and drink and forget. Nope. Basically any reckless behavior scared the shit out of me right now even though this was a prime opportunity for reckless behavior.
My stupid father was right. I’d been so freaking scared of getting close to Cal, to anyone, of getting my heart broken. Now that it was here, all I could think was, this is what I had been so afraid of? It sucked, yeah, but all the effort and energy I spent worried about it, trying to avoid it… maybe it would have been better to try harder with Cal, to do things differently.
I didn’t even know anymore. It wasn’t about Cal likely. It was me. Stupid, unavailable, unable to trust me, who lost a guy I really liked because I couldn’t open up. Was he the first of many I’d lose for that reason? Even if I did tell him shit, I could still lose him. And that was the bad part. The part I still had trouble getting over. That I could, theoretically, let him in and it would still not work out.
I could sit him down, make him listen, do things right somehow, and it could still go the same way. I couldn’t handle that. Showing him all the ugly, thorny parts of myself, explaining it all and him still deciding at some point I wasn’t worth it. How could I give him so much without a guarantee? Even if a guarantee like that really wasn’t offered in life.
Dad said I’d survived worse before. That if Tony bailed, I would survive. I was strong enough to handle it. Yeah, I was pretty damn strong. It had been just my mom and April and I for five years. I watched April, worked, went to school, and learned all kinds of things about myself and the world in that time. I didn’t need a leather jacket and a bike to make me tough. I already was.
Except maybe I’d finally realized I didn’t want to be that guy all the time. That sometimes I wanted to be less strong. I wanted someone there for me. I just didn’t know how to get to that point, to let him in.
I knew who I needed to talk to.
I brought mom lunch at the hospital. All the grownup divorce stuff had gone over my head at the time, but my mom had brown bagged work lunches to save some money. Well, no, she had a reusable lunch box; that would be dumb to spend money on brown paper bags. When it first happened, I hadn’t known how I could help. I was moody and angry and reeling from dad leaving, but I’d seen her pack my lunch countless times and started doing the same for her, packing both of ours. We hadn’t needed to do that in a while, but I did it now, just because. Except I didn’t have to make it now. I bought sandwiches from the sub shop she liked instead.
We sat in the cafeteria at the hospital. She wore navy scrubs, but the scrub top had ridiculous pastel carton llamas; it was a present from April. I skipped school, but she didn’t mention it. Chalk it up to senioritis or whatever.
“Was it worth it?” I asked.
She didn’t even have to ask. “Oh, baby, I got you and April out of the deal. Of course it was.”
I acted tough, but I wasn’t as strong as her. God, that would fucking suck. Committing to someone, investing so much of your time and life and love in them, and then they fucking messed up so badly. And she never stopped paying for it. She worked her ass off. She hadn’t remarried.
How could doing all that be worth it? If it goes right, sure, but if it didn’t... I’d consider myself something of a risk taker. But this? Bones healed, stuff could be replaced, but a shattered heart never became whole again.
Mom kicked her foot against mine under the table while we sat together. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that you did good with your sister. Thank you.”
I waved it off. “That’s not something you need to thank me for.”
“I know, but the spelling bee stuff. It makes you uncomfortable.”
“Wasn’t the best time,” I admitted.
“Hey, your dad and I,” she started.
“Oh, you don’t have to—” It was a long time ago. Hell, I’d wanted to go to space then. I didn’t want to be an astronaut now. Helmets messed my hair up enough; I don’t want to see what zero gravity would do.
“We were already broken,” mom persisted. “No matt
er what it might have seemed like, it didn’t have anything to do with you.” Dear god, did we not have to talk about this. I wanted to get up and walk off, but she reached over the table and grasped my hand, holding it firm.
“It was a long time ago, mom.”
She almost smiled. “You never wanted to talk about it back then either.” I didn’t deny it. She continued. “Him spending so much time with you on spelling was probably why our marriage lasted so long.” She looked down at her food, but her grip stayed secured on my hand. “We got to be a team and focus on helping you. We set all our drama aside but that didn’t fix any of our problems. We couldn’t put them aside forever.”
I considered that. From my perspective, we were a perfect, happy family. Then I almost made the finals and lost. Then dad moved out, we downsized, and he became a signature on birthday and Christmas cards at first, then a memory. Losing the spelling be wasn’t the end of the world but losing him seemed like it at the time. I just didn’t want to do it anymore if he wasn’t there helping me. And I was so angry at him, at myself, Cal, everything. Mostly myself.
“The divorce had nothing to do with you, dumbass,” she said the moniker fondly and I almost smiled even though we were talking about the worst thing in the world. “I was, uh, pretty angry at your dad,” I did huff out a weak laugh at that as her tone suggested ‘pretty angry’ didn’t really do it justice. “I was trying really hard not to prejudice you guys against him, but now I realize that maybe I didn’t explain things very well.” Her voice got softer but carried a new intensity. “I can’t even remember if I told you back then, but it wasn’t your fault.” She squeezed my hand. “It really wasn’t your fault.”
“It felt like it,” I admitted, quietly.
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” She let my hand go as we sat in silence for a few moments, neither of us touching our food.
From everything she and dad had told me recently, I was coming to that conclusion on my own. Hell, I’d thought dad had a drinking problem before, so I knew it wasn’t all my fault. I guess I still felt to blame, some stupid part of me that just thought if I’d gotten my word right mommy and daddy would still be together. Hearing it said still felt… really good. Weight I didn’t know I was carrying suddenly released. Or no, I knew, but I’d gotten so used to lugging that baggage around everywhere. I never thought it would be taken away.