If He Had Been with Me

by Laura Nowlin

  Finny and Jack clink glasses and take long swigs.

  “Me too,” I say. Finny holds his tumbler out and I tap mine against his and take another sip. I shudder afterward and lick my lips.

  “That was weak,” Jack says. “We need to teach you how to drink.”

  “This drink is too strong,” I say. Jack laughs. I look at Finny for support. He gives me his lopsided smile.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I’m with him on this.”

  My heart beats faster, and I take another drink.

  ***

  The first time I wake up, I am still drunk and Finny is asleep next to me. He’s lying on his back with one arm flung over his eyes. I scoot closer to him, slowly. I lie on my stomach with my forehead pressed into his armpit, nearly on his shoulder. I curl in a ball. My fingers touch his ribs.

  When I wake up the second time, the boys are not with me in the cave. I know Finny isn’t there before I even open my eyes. I feel cold and my head hurts.

  “How could you have missed that game?” I hear Jack say somewhere in the room. I open my eyes. The light outside the tent is bright; it must be almost noon.

  “Autumn and I were at the mall,” Finny says. His voice makes me want to close my eyes.

  “You never miss it when the Strikers are on TV,” Jack says. Finny doesn’t reply. I imagine that he has shrugged.

  There is a pause, and then Finny says, “I’m going to break up with Sylvie when she gets home tomorrow.” I stiffen, and my stomach rolls. I lay one hand on it. I didn’t know that she was coming home tomorrow. He never told me the date and I never asked.

  “I figured,” Jack says. There is another pause. My saliva glands ache and my throat constricts. “Then what?” he asks. His voice is quieter.

  “Oh God,” I say. I climb out of the tent. Finny or Jack might say something to me, but I don’t know; I am speeding past them and into the bathroom.

  I’m still throwing up when Finny knocks on the door.

  “Go away,” I say.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. Go away.”

  “Okay.”

  When it’s over, I rinse my mouth out and look at myself in the mirror. I look like hell. I run my fingers through my hair.

  When I come out, the guys are in the kitchen making toast. I slump down at the table and curl my knees up to my chest.

  “Feeling better?” Jack says.

  “More or less,” I say. They continue their conversation without me. They aren’t talking about Sylvie and I don’t listen anyway. After a minute, Finny hands me a piece of buttered toast and I eat it quietly. My stomach protests but I keep it down.

  Later we finish the movie we started last night, and then Jack leaves. I tell Finny that I am gonna go next door to take a shower. He says okay and doesn’t ask when I’ll be back.

  At home, I huddle in the hot shower with my arms wrapped around my middle. I want him to break up with Sylvie. I don’t want to watch him fall for another girl.

  I want him to be in love with me. Like a movie montage I can’t stop, scenes from the summer fly through my mind, moments when I thought, maybe, just maybe—

  “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” I say. I squeeze my eyes tightly. “It’s not real,” I say. And the need to write it down overwhelms me and I step out of the shower, dripping and shivering.

  In my bathrobe, I sit at my computer and I write for a long time. At first I don’t realize what is happening. I think that I will write a few pages and go back to Finny’s. As the afternoon wanes, my mind starts to feel soft, but I keep pushing. I realize I want this over with. I can’t do this to myself anymore.

  I get up twice, once to get a glass of water, once to go to the bathroom. Both times, I rush back to write what I have been thinking.

  Sometimes my hands are flying across the keyboard, other times I stare at the screen for long, silent stretches. Around dinnertime, Finny sends me a text. I send him back one word. Writing.

  ***

  It’s late in the day now, but it’s still mostly light out. I’m typing the last sentence, the one that’s been in my head for so long now. I’m shaking. I click save. I stare at the screen.

  That’s it. That’s all of it.

  I’m still in my bathrobe. My hair is dry now. I feel numb, like I did after Jamie broke up with me.

  ***

  I don’t know how long it has been—it’s starting to get dark, but isn’t quite yet—when Finny knocks on my bedroom door. I know it’s him. I figured he would come eventually. The door creaks as he opens it. I’m sitting on one end of my bed. I’m still in my robe.

  “Autumn?” he says.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “I came to check on you,” he says.

  “I finished the novel,” I say, and I start to cry. I don’t see him cross the room, but I feel him pull me into a hug. I haven’t ever cried like this in front of him, at least not since we were kids. I lean my head on his shoulder and sob, but it doesn’t last too long because I’m touching him, and he’s holding me. Finny waits until I am quiet to say anything.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he says. He hasn’t let me go. I sniffle.

  “It’s like they’re dead,” I say.

  “Like who is dead?”

  “Izzy and Aden,” I say. “My main characters.” I feel the tears building up again.

  I feel Finny let out a breath. He laughs once through his nose.

  “I thought something was really wrong,” he says. Before I realize I’m doing it, I pull away from him in anger.

  “Something is wrong!” I say, “Can’t you tell I’m upset?” Finny laughs again. His right arm is still around my shoulders. I make a fist and punch his left one. He still laughs. “Stop laughing at me,” I say.

  “Sorry,” he says, but he’s still smiling. “It’s just that it’s really obvious that you’re upset, and I meant I thought something was really wrong, like Jamie had called you.”

  “Who cares if Jamie called me?” My voice is shrill. “Who cares about Jamie?” Finny grins. I start to cry again. He pulls me into another hug. “You don’t understand,” I say into his chest.

  “I know,” he says. His voice is soothing; I close my eyes. “But I can’t wait to read it,” he says.

  “You can’t read it,” I say.

  “Why not?” he asks, and I can’t answer him. He doesn’t say anything else. He holds me even after my sniffling stops. It’s dark outside now. I realize I want this over. I can’t do this to myself anymore.

  “Okay,” I say. “You can read it after dinner.”

  80

  Once upon a time there were a boy and a girl named Aden and Izzy. They lived next door to each other and were best friends. Aden was smart and handsome, and Izzy was awkward and funny. Nobody else understood them the way they understood each other.

  Aden and Izzy grow up, and Izzy doesn’t leave Aden, and Aden isn’t afraid to wait to kiss her until he is certain she is ready to be kissed. They go to high school and they aren’t just best friends anymore. When they undress at night they leave their blinds open so the other can see. Aden plays soccer but Izzy doesn’t do anything but watch him from the stands. They go to school dances sometimes, but mostly they just want to be alone together. They don’t have any other friends, and they don’t want any others because they’re still best friends too. They steal vodka from Izzy’s dad and go down to the creek where they used to play and get drunk. Aden learns to drive and he helps teach Izzy to later.

  One night, Aden and Izzy have sex, and it is wonderful and scary. Then Izzy is pregnant, but before anyone finds out their baby dies and it is very, very frightening but also a little bit beautiful, the way sad things sometimes are.

  Sometimes people tell them they should make other friends or date other people, but Izzy and Aden never listen be
cause they know that it’s just supposed to be the two of them, and it doesn’t matter if no one else understands.

  Then in their senior year, Izzy is offered a scholarship to study writing at a school far away from where Aden is going to go. Izzy really wants to accept, and Aden tells her she has to go. They cry a lot, and then they decide they don’t want to ruin their perfect love by trying to stretch it across the distance. They think that they will be able to forever remember each other as they are now and never have to have arguments over the phone or wonder what the other is doing that night. When Izzy leaves, it will just have to be the end, and so they try to make the best of the last few months.

  The day comes when Izzy is supposed to leave, and they are going to say good-bye at the airport. Aden holds Izzy for the last time, but when the time comes neither of them can let go. They keep holding on and the speakers are starting to call for Izzy’s plane but neither of them moves, and they finally admit that they would rather ruin their perfect love trying to make it work because being unhappy together is better than being unhappy apart.

  And then Izzy and Aden are finally able to let each other go.

  And that’s the last line of my novel.

  81

  Finny sits on the living room couch while he reads off my computer screen. I read a book for a while, and the only sound in the room is the click of the keyboard as he scrolls down to the next page. Every time I hear it, I look at his face, but his face says nothing, nothing at all.

  Around eleven, I turn on the TV and watch an old movie. Finny doesn’t comment. Just before the movie is over, he gets up. I hear him drink a glass of water in the kitchen. He walks back to the couch without looking at me. The movie ends and another starts, and Finny is still reading.

  But he’s frowning now.

  I stay awake for another hour, but my eyelids are heavy and my head is aching again. I turn off the TV, and Finny does not move. I stand and stretch, and he does nothing. I walk past him, out of the room, and up the stairs.

  In Finny’s room, I crawl under his covers and lay my head on his pillow. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I thought I would feel jittery and want to bite my nails, but all I want to do is sleep; the act of giving it to him has exhausted me.

  I sleep deeply, and I dream.

  ***

  When I wake, it is either so quickly or so slowly that I cannot remember waking; I am just suddenly alert.

  Finny is standing by the bed, his silhouette dark in the weak light. His hands are limp at his sides. I cannot see his face, but I do not doubt that he is looking at me. He says my name, and somehow I know that he is saying it for a second time.

  “What?” I say. I sit up. My hair falls forward and I push it off my face and rub my eyes.

  “Why did you have to leave me like that?” he says.

  “I was tired,” I say. “You were reading.”

  “No,” he says. There is a slight tremble in his voice. “After we turned thirteen. Why did you have to leave like that?” The question hangs in the air between us, the way it always has.

  “I didn’t leave,” I finally say. My words lack conviction; even I can hear it. “We just grew apart.” Finny shakes his head.

  “We did not just grow apart, Autumn,” he says.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  “I already know why you did it,” he says. “I just want to know why you had to be so cruel about it.” My breath comes quicker.

  “Okay, I was stupid and selfish that fall,” I say. “And I’m sorry. But everything would have gone back to normal if you hadn’t kissed me out of nowhere without even asking. Do you have any idea how much you scared me that night?”

  “I scared you?”

  “I wasn’t ready,” I say. I wipe at my eyes with one hand. “And I didn’t know what to think.” Finny sits down on the bed, but he doesn’t face me. I wrap my arms around my waist tightly and wait, but he doesn’t say anything. I push the covers off my lap and crawl toward him. I lean forward and try to find his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I hate myself for hurting you.”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m sorry for kissing you.”

  “Don’t say that,” I say. “Don’t say you’re sorry for that.”

  Finny surprises me then; he laughs out loud and shakes his head. “I never know what to do to make you happy, do I?”

  “You make me happier than any other person ever has,” I say, but he still won’t look at me.

  “Do I?” he says. I nod.

  “Every day,” I whisper. My heart beats fast and my fingers close into trembling fists. We are both quiet for a few moments. I hear a lone bird singing outside; it must be close to dawn. I wish I could see him better. He still isn’t looking at me.

  “What if I kissed you right now?” he says. I can’t answer him at first; everything inside me has gone still. I tell myself to take a breath.

  “That would make me happy,” I say.

  It doesn’t happen smoothly. First, Finny shifts his position so that he is facing me, and then I sit up straighter. We pause there, and I have to tell myself to raise my face for him. He reaches over slowly like he thinks any second I’ll tell him to stop, and he lays his hand on the back of my head. I feel my whole body relax with his touch, and maybe he feels it too because it happens very quickly after that. Finny pulls me toward him and our noses bump. I turn my face to the side, and he presses his mouth against mine.

  It’s warm, kissing Finny, and sort of like my whole body is being stroked with a feather. He puts his hand on my hip and I want to do something with my hands too. I lay one on his shoulder, and the other on his knee. Finny’s fingers tighten in my hair.

  “Ow,” I say, and I flinch away from his hand even though I don’t want to, even though I want to pretend it doesn’t hurt.

  “Sorry,” he says. Our noses are still touching but he isn’t kissing me. He starts to take his hands away.

  “No, don’t stop,” I say. I pull on his shoulder. “Lie down with me.” I lean back onto his pillows.

  “Oh God,” Finny says, and he crawls over me.

  We kiss quickly at first, as if we’re trying to make up for lost time, and then long and slow, as if we’re daring each other to see who can last longer. My hands are on his back, trying to hold him closer; his are on either side of my face, holding me still.

  I don’t know how long we kiss like that; the only thing I am aware of besides him are the sounds I hear myself making from time to time; little sighs and moans like I have never made kissing anyone else.

  It’s never felt like this before.

  It feels so natural.

  It feels so right.

  Finny.

  I finally understand what’s been missing for me all these years.

  After a while, he draws his hand slowly, really slowly, down my shoulder and across the side of my ribs. He holds my breast, gently.

  My Finny.

  My eyes are wet again, and I feel one tear trail down the corner of my eye, and then another and another, and I realize that there may never be another moment more perfect than this for the rest of my life.

  “Finny?” I say.

  He stops kissing me slowly and then raises his head more quickly to look down at me. “Yeah?” he breathes.

  “I want…” I say, and then realize that I don’t know how to say it and the words trail off.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he says.

  “No!” I say. The thought fills me with panic and I speak quickly. “I want the opposite of that.” There is a moment of silence. I hold my breath.

  “You want me to keep going?” he says.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Finny blinks at me and stumbles over his next words. “I—I don’t h
ave—” he says.

  “I don’t care,” I say. And I don’t. All I care about is not losing this moment with him.

  “Autumn,” he says. “No—”

  “Please, Finny,” I say. I lean up and kiss his neck, right under his ear. He gasps sharply and his body shudders. “Please, Finny,” I whisper between kisses. “Please. Please. Please.”

  Our mouths finally find each other again. After a moment, he pushes his hand under my T-shirt and up to my bra. I reach down and try to pull my shirt over my head without moving my lips from his until I have to. If we stop kissing, we will have to talk about what we’re doing. He helps me and kisses me as I arch my back to unhook my bra.

  I reach down and try to undo the button on his jeans, but I can’t. He stops kissing me and pushes my hands away. I think I’m going to die until I realize he is undoing it himself.

  There just isn’t a way for two people on a bed to take off their jeans without being awkward and embarrassing. But it can still be perfect and wonderful too.

  Finny sits up and pulls his shirt over his head. I can see all of him now, and for the first time, I am frightened. He looks down at me.

  “Oh, Autumn,” he says. I reach down and try to shimmy out of my underwear without looking silly, but I probably don’t succeed. When they’re past my hips, he pulls them down and off my ankles and tosses them on the floor. He’s looking at me again. I feel like I’ve been tossed up in the air, and if I don’t grab on to him in time, I will fall back down again. I hold out my arms to him.

  “Can I tell you that I love you first?” Finny says. I begin to fall slowly, slowly down.

  “Yes,” I say. Finny leans over me again. One of his hands parts my thighs, and the other rests by my head.

  “I love you,” Finny says in my ear. I feel him touching me there, with his hand and his other. “Oh God, I love you.” He pushes into me just a little; it’s a warning. I bury my face into his shoulder. “Oh God,” he says. “Autumn.”

  I bite my lip and don’t cry out. He moves slowly at first, and I know that it’s for me; I can feel him holding back. It hurts, but not like I thought it would. It isn’t a general blank pain; it’s contained and exact, just like being ripped apart. I can almost hear it.