Left Drowning

by Jessica Park

  Estelle rolls down her window, too, and seats herself on the door frame, her feet in the car and her upper body hanging out the side, to watch me. “Come on, Blythe. Run.” The truck moves ahead again.

  “Blythe, run, damn it,” Sabin insists. “Please. You can do this. It’s only … What? How many miles left, Chris?”

  Chris holds out three fingers and then two. Three point two miles. He’s been clocking me.

  I start running. He’s playing the first playlist that he ever sent me.

  Eric hollers to be heard over the music. “You’re running a nine-and-a-half-minute mile. You need to be doing an eight-point-five-minute mile at the very slowest just to catch up.”

  I’m pretty sure that I can go the distance, but I don’t think I can make the time. I’m a slower runner than even I thought. I’ve never paid attention to distance or pace before, but I do know that by picking up my pace by a full minute is going to be tough, so I’m really going to have to sprint. But, shit, I didn’t know that I could run over ten miles at all, nor that I have been doing it frequently. Now they’re asking me to finish this half marathon.

  Sabin and Eric shut up and let me run. Chris holds out his hand and flashes me two fingers as I run through the playlist that first kept me from walking. Last September feels like eons ago. I nod back and immediately hate myself for acknowledging him, for responding to the natural way in which we communicate.

  “Faster, B. You have to run faster!” Sabin calls out.

  My legs are burning. I’m not made to sprint like this, and it hurts.

  “Look at me,” he says.

  So I do. He spends so much time goofing around that moments when Sabin is real totally get me. I push a little more, and Sabin starts strumming his guitar along with the music. We must look like fools, but now I’m curious to see if I can make this time.

  “Attagirl!” Eric claps.

  Sabin is playing along to a song that I always run hard to. It’s one of those songs that would make me cry if I had any extra breath left to give. Even with the music loud, I can hear Sabin singing to me, so I focus on the back of the truck and push myself.

  The music changes again. It’s this song by The Lumineers that I love—that Chris knows I love—and I can see him tapping his hand along with the music.

  Fuck him.

  I’m about out of stamina. It’d be impossible for me to finish at this pace.

  “No way, Blythe!” Sabin looks pissed. He can see I’m weakening. “You are not stopping now.”

  I just can’t. I can feel my legs slowing despite my efforts. I’m burned out.

  “I thought you were a fighter, B.!” Sabin yells. “You’re not gonna fight for what you want, is that it? Stop being such a pussy. You want your man? He’s right here.” Sabin stands up and beckons me with his hands, then points behind him and gives me a taunting half smile. “Are you going to let him get away? After all this, you’re not going to just fucking give up, are you? Run a little faster, and you might get him.”

  Sabin’s being a goddamn asshole. I hope he falls over while standing up on the moving truck. I hold up my middle finger.

  “Oh yeah? A fuck-you? Good to see there’s a little fight there after all. You better go after what you want. What’s yours. He’s right there, Blythe. He’s right fucking there! Go get him.”

  I hold up both middle fingers.

  “Oooooh, my feisty girl is back! Maybe you’ll run a little faster now.” Even with the music at high volume, and Estelle and Eric singing and slamming their hands on the car to the beat, I can hear Sabin clear as a bell. So I know that Chris can hear him, too. “So what’s it gonna be? Are you gonna fight? Are you gonna win?” Sabin is full-on screaming at me now. “One fuck-you for no, two for yes. Do you want him, Blythe? Do you want him enough? Do you fucking love him enough?”

  I hate Sabin right now, but I am running harder and stronger than I ever have.

  And I hold up two middle fingers. Of course I love Chris enough.

  Sabin grins and winks.

  My emotions are raw now, and against my will I look in the driver’s mirror. Chris is watching, mouthing, Come on, come on … His face is serious, nervous almost, and his piercing eyes are glued to me. Soon I don’t hear the music, I don’t hear Sabin screaming at me, or my feet slamming into the concrete. I hear nothing but air and see nothing but Christopher. He wants this for me. It’s because of him that I have any capacity to power ahead in this run. I do want him, and I do love him. I would lay down my life for his, and what enrages me is that I fucking know he would do the same for me. If I can run fast enough, far enough … If I can run through the heartbreak …

  Eric starts clapping, and I know that I’ve hit the distance. I slow to a walk, pulling my eyes from Chris’s. I have to stop and put my hands on my knees. I can barely catch my breath. The truck stops, and Sabin hops over the back. The music turns off, and all I hear is my struggle for air. “You did it, kiddo! That was awesome. Get in and we’ll drive you back.”

  My breathing slows enough that I can talk, but not enough to completely stifle the choke in my voice. I stand up and put my hands on my waist. It’s a battle to get my words out. “You’re a son of a bitch, Sabin. I love you, and I will always love you, but don’t ever fucking do that to me again.”

  “Blythe …”

  “I’m not kidding. I know what you were trying to do, but it’s over for him. It will never be over for me, but it’s over for him. I don’t need the extra humiliation, I don’t need him hearing all of that, and I don’t need to fall apart again. So fuck you for pulling that shit.” I drop my hands to my knees again. I feel like I’m going to throw up. “Fuck you.”

  Sabe steps in closer and puts his hand on my back. “I’m sorry.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “It can’t be over.” He sounds as sad as I am.

  “But it is.”

  Now Sabin’s voice cracks. “Why … why didn’t he choose you?”

  I hear Zach’s words in my head. I tell Sabin, “He wants to hide, and I can’t take that from him.”

  I look up at Chris in the driver-side mirror for a minute. For a moment I think he’s going to get out of the car, but he doesn’t. I turn around and walk away.

  I am miles from the dorm, but I’ll walk it alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Most Hollow Victory

  Sitting in an upscale Madison restaurant with Annie, James, and Sabin hardly seems real. But it is. Annie looks exactly the same, and I admire her as she sits across the dinner table from me. She’s let her straight brown hair grow to midway down her back, and she compulsively tucks it behind one ear every few minutes, just as she always has. Her brown eyes are as expressive as I remember, and she still has the ability to say a thousand words with one eyebrow arch. Seeing her is exactly what I need right now. To some degree, she will always remind me of the torturous aftermath of my parents’ death, but I’m ready to move past that. She is full of smiles and exuberance, and we do not talk about my parents or the fire. We focus instead on the future, since that’s all I want to think about right now.

  Sabin has, of course, charmed the absolute shit out of her. While the biker jacket is still on, he is surprisingly wearing a button-down shirt and dress pants. It’s an odd combination, but Sabin is a bit of an odd combination so this suits him.

  Annie refills her wineglass and holds up the bottle with a questioning look. “More?”

  I shake my head. “No, I want to be clearheaded for graduation tomorrow.”

  “Then I’ll toast to your magazine internship on my own. I’m so proud! It’s much more exciting than my boring lawyer work, although at least I’m happier telecommuting. What will you be doing for the summer, Sabin?” Annie asks, turning to him. “You’ll be a senior next year, right? Big year ahead.”

  “I’m going to stay here in Madison and do some performances with a community theater. They’ve got a great summer lineup, and I’m preparing to dazzle the
city’s entire female population. So sorry you won’t be here for that, Ms. Annie.” He is an incorrigible flirt.

  “I’m sorry, too.” There goes the eyebrow. “And your brothers and sister? What are they doing?”

  “Eric is staying in town, too, and working at a bank. Sounds noxiously boring to me, but he likes that sort of stuff. And he’s going to blog for the theater company I’m with, so that’ll be cool. Estelle will be smelling feet all summer at some super fancy shoe store and still working at the restaurant where she waitresses near campus.”

  “Hey, Sabe.” I want to cut him off before he mentions Chris. “I’ve always wondered why she worked there. I mean, not to be weird, but it doesn’t seem like she needs the money.”

  He smiles. “No, it’s not for the money. It’s because of Anya.”

  “The older lady who owns the place? With the bun?”

  “Yeah.” He smiles lightly. “Estelle’s not much for seeking out an obvious mother substitute, but I think Anya’s got that grandmother feel. It’s something. We don’t …” He waves his hand around. “We don’t have grandparents. We don’t have uncles and aunts and cousins. It’s just us.” He looks at Annie. “No, no, do not make that sad face, beautiful Annie! My personality more than compensates for our scant selection of relatives! Besides, we now have the hot cousin in the mix.” He nods at me and I laugh. “Tell me what your plans are. Lots of bikini wearing for you, I hope, Annie?”

  Annie looks at me. “He’s a good one, this guy, huh?”

  “Beyond good,” I assure her.

  “I think we’ve got our summer plans down, and I believe they involve kicking things off with a Cape Cod trip.”

  “I think that sounds perfect. What do you think?” I turn to my brother.

  Having James here is amazing, and we feel more like we used to than I could have hoped. I’ve learned that if I use time intelligently, it can actually do a lot to fix wounds. When I finally asked him to come to graduation, I wasn’t sure what he would say. I hadn’t exactly been overly warm toward him since Christmas, but he’d handled it well because he knew that I deserved his patience. As much as I can be, I am over his lying about his injury. There wasn’t really anything specific we had to talk about. It just took time for me to let what came out of Christmas break settle. We can’t change the past and the choices that we’ve made. Besides, I have an opportunity to have a real relationship with him, and I’ve decided that I don’t want to miss it. What I do miss is the fun that we used to have together, so we’re getting that back no matter what.

  “I think three weeks on the Cape sounds even better than two, don’t you?” James smiles broadly and nudges me.

  “Yes, I do.” I nudge him back.

  James put his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in while we blink pleadingly at Annie. “It sounds fun, doesn’t it? Three whole weeks to splash in the ocean, roll in the sand, fish off the boat?”

  “You are still expected to find a job, you know, young man.” Annie looks pointedly at James, but still smiles.

  “I’m quite sure that three weeks of decompression would totally rejuvenate his desire to seek employment. Right, James?”

  He nods seriously. “Absolutely.”

  Annie laughs. “You two fools are lucky that I’ve had so much wine because I totally agree. Let’s do it!” She fishes her phone from her purse. “I’m going to call my friend who’s letting us use her house, but I think it’ll be fine. She’s going to be away for another few weeks anyway.” She gets up from the table and touches James on the arm. “Walk with me outside. I can tell these two need a minute.”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I turn to Sabin. He is visibly teary. “Oh my God, Sabe. Don’t. No crying, okay?” I put my hand over his giant hand and squeeze. “What is it?”

  “It’s … weird to watch you with James.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well … the way he … put his arm over your shoulder just now. That’s my thing with you.” He shrugs.

  I smile. “Well, my, my, Sabin Shepherd, are you jealous?”

  “Fuck, yes, I am. But I’m happy for you. You have a family again.”

  “You listen to me, all right? Listen,” I say firmly. “You are my family. From the minute that you stole my coffee, you were my family. That’s for always. I will always need you, no matter how close James and I ever get. All four of you, you have changed my life.”

  “Shit, I’m going to miss you.” He can’t look at me, and that’s probably for the best.

  I give in and let my eyes fill. There is going to be a lot of crying this weekend. That’s unavoidable. “This is going to be a hard good-bye,” I say.

  “Yes, it is.” He takes my wineglass, fills it, and drinks half the glass. “But I know it’s not your hardest.”

  “No, you’re wrong. This one is different, but it’s just as hard.” I get up from my chair and take my favorite spot in his lap. I won’t get to have his big arms around me anytime that I want after this. What I am losing is starting to seem like too much now, and I don’t know how to deal with it. “You’ll come visit me; you promised.”

  He hugs me and nods into my neck, and I bury my face into him. “Yeah, I will. And maybe you’ll come out here, too? We could have a Thanksgiving do-over?”

  “I can’t come for a holiday. Not if—”

  “I know. Not if Chris is here.”

  I relax into Sabin’s comfort. I know that I’m going to need it in a minute. In the way that Chris was able to stabilize me in the past, Sabin is going to have to stabilize me now because I’m about to ask him what I don’t want to hear, but what I need to hear. “Chris is staying in town, isn’t he?”

  Sabin pauses and then nods again. “Yeah, sweetie.”

  “And there’s more, isn’t there?”

  “There is.”

  I don’t say anything for a minute. “They’re sleeping together, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, I have no idea. But, Blythe …” He starts to say something else and then stops.

  “What are you talking about?” And then I know. The horrible understanding falls into place for me. He doesn’t have to tell me because I know. I can feel it. “Oh God, Sabin, no.” I shut my eyes and let the tears fall. I hold on tightly. It’s worse than I thought. “Please tell me no. He can’t do this.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “When?”

  “Not until next June.”

  Chris is getting married.

  The phrase repeats in my head until it seems like I’m shouting it at myself. I feel numb. How is this possible? I thought he was just like me.

  I thought the only marriage proposal he’d ever make would be a drunk one, on a rooftop, holding a wedge of lime.

  I thought neither of us would ever chase after tradition for the sake of tradition.

  I thought our being together would be a slow build.

  I thought we would find our way into a love with no return.

  I thought that we were an absolute.

  Sabin rubs my back and lets my tears fall over his jacket. “Maybe you can stop him.”

  “No, I can’t. Even if I could, I don’t want to have to stop him.”

  ***

  I am numb as we wrap up the evening. By the time I’m back in my dorm room, I’ve decided that I want away from Matthews, away from Chris, and away from all the pain that’s here. If I can just get through the next thirty-six hours, I’ll be fine. I will. I can do this.

  It’s just fucking heartbreak, that’s all.

  Determined to avoid acting pitiful, I take my dirty clothes down to the laundry room in the dorm basement and load them into the machines. I sit on the hard counter and stare at the wash cycle. Spin. Yeah, I am definitely spinning. The room is empty, and it’s probably the quietest place on campus since everyone else is out partying before graduation tomorrow. One in the morning is not a popular time to go stain-free apparently, but th
at’s good because I don’t want to see anyone. That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t give a shit about going home with dirty laundry, but sitting in my room with all its packed-up boxes is depressing. I already miss Neon Jesus.

  Of all the people whom I do not want to see, Chris tops the list. So when he walks into the laundry room, I immediately white-knuckle the edge of the countertop.

  He sets his laundry on top of a washer. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  Chris leans against the machine. As much as I don’t want to look at him, I can’t help myself. Maybe it’s only been a few months that we’ve been distant, but it seems an eternity since I’ve had the opportunity, forced or not, to see how painfully intoxicating he is. It perplexes me that he isn’t hounded by women at every turn, because he’s that intensely attractive to me. I don’t notice anyone else. Even the resentment and bitterness at the forefront of my thinking cannot put a dent in how desirable he is to me in every way.

  This is one of the last times that I’ll see him, I realize. I won’t get to see him brush his black hair away from those green eyes, I won’t get to see how his shirts always cling so perfectly to his body, and I won’t be on the receiving end of that half smile that infuses my world with so much.

  We sit there for a long time; the background noise from the machines is the only thing protecting us at all from the paralyzing tension.

  Finally he breaks the silence. “I talked to Sabin.” He blows the hair from his eyes. “He told you.”

  “I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “Blythe …”

  “No. No, shut up, Chris.” I feel myself shift gears to a place where I cannot control my rage and my pain. “Just shut the fuck up. Did you think that I’d congratulate you? Yeah, I’m supposed to, I know that. How can I? Jesus, Christopher. What have you done? My, God, what have you done to us?”

  “I was going to tell you myself, but—”

  “But what?” I spit out. I slide from the counter and continue to explode. “Who the fuck decides to get married after a few months? At our age? There is so much time left to decide … to make these kinds of promises later. Why now? Chris, why now? You didn’t even want a girlfriend, much less a wife! And … and … and now you’re engaged? Why didn’t you just tell me that you didn’t want me? That would have been fair. This? This shit is not fair. You know goddamn well how I feel about you, Christopher.”