Last Year's Mistake

by Gina Ciocca

  “You’re leaving.” I’d meant to phrase it as a question, but it came out sounding like an accusation. Neither of us broke eye contact, but neither of us knew what to say.

  Mr. Kerrigan pushed himself away from the table and stood up. “Look at these cookies Kelsey made for us!” He grabbed one of the containers and pushed it into David’s abdomen. “Why don’t you take these upstairs and show her your fish tank?”

  David looked at his father as if he’d spoken complete gibberish.

  Mr. Kerrigan patted his shoulder. “I think she’d like to see your fish.”

  “Yeah,” David said, finally getting the hint. “Come on up, Kelse.”

  It had been ages since I’d been in David’s room at this house. It felt foreign and familiar all at once, with the same wooden bunk beds against the right wall and the window at the far end with blue sailboat curtains. The biggest difference was that it no longer looked like a temporary, unlived-in bedroom. His baseball memorabilia dotted the dressers and walls. His hooded sweatshirt hung on his desk chair, the same desk that had always been mostly bare. Now it held his computer and his schoolbooks and, of course, the fish tank. And a framed picture of him and Violet.

  It looked like the bedroom of a normal teenage boy, not a room where he stayed for a week or so each summer. It looked lived in, though apparently he wouldn’t be living in it much longer.

  “Is there something else you forgot to open your mouth about?” I asked as the door shut behind me.

  “Why would I tell you?” He tossed the container of cookies on the desk and dropped into the chair. “We weren’t even friends for most of the year. It’s like I said; I didn’t want pity. I just wanted to know what would happen if you and I were in the same place at the same time again.”

  “Does Violet know you’re moving?”

  “She does now. It’s part of the reason she was so pleasant at prom.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense. That day when we talked about choosing colleges, you told me you planned to stay close to home.”

  “I do plan to stay close to home. I’m going to UConn.”

  “UConn? Then why did Violet tell me you were going to Massachusetts like she is?”

  David grimaced. “Wishful thinking on her part. UConn and UMass both offered me scholarships. She thought if she kept on me, I’d pick the one closer to her. UMass is less than two hours from here, but it’s more than three from Connecticut.” He shrugged. “She’s not too happy with me, but I had to go where I’d be close to my dad.”

  “So now you’re leaving,” I said again.

  David sighed and stood up. “Why does it matter, Kelse? You love it here. With or without me.”

  “I do love it here. But I want you here with me.”

  “Why?”

  I crossed the room and stood in front of him. Tentatively I traced the shadowed pattern of raindrops on his T-shirt with my finger. “It’s raining. What do you think about when it rains?”

  “What do you mean?”

  My heart galloped like a racehorse, but I forced myself to look him in the eye. “I think about kissing you every time it rains.” I sucked in a shaky breath. “And every time it doesn’t.” Then I leaned up on my toes, and pressed my lips against his.

  It ended too fast—fast enough that I wasn’t sure what happened. Then I realized he’d pushed me away. Not roughly, and not in a way that made me think he was angry. Just enough to let me know that it wasn’t going to happen. I looked at him with questioning eyes.

  “Sorry, Kelse,” he said softly. “Not this time.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have a girlfriend, and because you broke up with Ryan two days ago. I’m not gonna be your rebound.”

  His words hit me like a slap in the face. “You know you’re not a rebound. How can you say that? I’m finally trying to do what’s right here.”

  “So am I. What am I supposed to tell Violet? ‘Thanks for being Kelsey’s stand-in, but your services are no longer needed’? That’s not fair.”

  I took a step back and folded my arms over my chest. “If she’s only my stand-in, how is that fair?”

  “That’s not what I meant. She’s already upset because she thinks you had something to do with me choosing UConn. I can’t stand here and kiss you again when I’ve told her a thousand times that there’s nothing going on.”

  “You almost broke up with her last time. What were you going to tell her then?”

  “I honestly don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, because you didn’t want to be with me. Again.”

  I let out a frustrated breath. “What was I supposed to do? I made a whole new life for myself before you got here. I had my friends, I had my boyfriend. I thought everything was perfect. Then you show up out of nowhere and tell me how much I’ve changed and start kissing my friends and confusing the hell out of me and no matter how much I want to hate you, I can’t!”

  David’s lips settled into a frown. “That’s the part I still don’t get. I never did anything to deserve you hating me. I told you I loved you, for Christ’s sake. Why would you hate me for that?”

  I sat down hard on the lower bunk and buried my face in my hands.

  “I didn’t hate you for saying you loved me. I hated you for making me want to stay. And then breaking my heart all over again when I tried to tell you.”

  “Kelse, it wasn’t—”

  I held up my hand. “I know. I was so stupid back then. I thought it had to be all or nothing; if you could be happy without me, with people I didn’t know how to relate to anymore, then you didn’t need me at all. I had this idealized image in my head of what life would be like when I got here—what I’d be like—and taking the next step with you didn’t fit in the picture.” I paused for a second, the photo of the Grand Canyon that used to hang by my bed flashing through my mind. I thought I’d crossed the valley to the perpetually coveted other side when I left my old life behind. And yet, here I was, staring longingly at where I’d already been. “And then what if it didn’t work? I would’ve lost my boyfriend and my best friend.”

  “So you decided to throw me away instead?”

  “I can’t stand what I did to you, but part of me hated you for being the person I could never be again, and making it look so easy.” My breath shook. My confession had surprised even me. “But, David, you wouldn’t be here, in this house, in this state, if you didn’t want to give it another chance.” I looked at him with pleading eyes. “Can’t we make it work?”

  Some kind of exasperated sound tore from his throat and he pushed his hand through his hair. “We wouldn’t be together this time, either. Not physically. You’ll be in Rhode Island and I’ll be in Connecticut, just like before. We had all year to make this work.” He held my gaze, both sadness and resolve in his eyes. “It’s too late.”

  A sound like the ocean rang in my ears, one that must have signaled all my blood rushing to my feet. The room spun and my legs wobbled when I stood up. David started toward me. “I still want us to be friends, Kelse.”

  Friends. We’d started as friends, but it wasn’t what I wanted anymore. I’d wanted more for a long time, longer than I’d even realized. But I’d missed my window, and begging wouldn’t change anything.

  I nodded woodenly. “And I want you to know that if I could go back and do things differently, I would.”

  The briefest flicker of a smile crossed his lips and he stepped forward like he might hug me, but I turned toward the door. The thought of touching him was too much. I only wanted to get out of there and be alone with my humiliation, pronto.

  “Guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” I said hurriedly. The knowledge made me want to vomit.

  I didn’t know how I’d make it through the next couple of weeks until graduation. As I tore out of the house and back into the rain, I only knew that all my perfect illusio
ns had burst like bubbles. Of course, if they’d ever really been perfect, then what happened in David’s bedroom wouldn’t have mattered. But it did matter, because I’d made the biggest mistake of my life when I let him slip through my ­fingers last year.

  And now I’d made the same mistake all over again.

  Thirty-Three

  Rhode Island

  Senior Year

  Being locked in a torture chamber would’ve felt like a trip to the Bahamas compared to the last days of school.

  Ryan barely looked at me, and David went overboard trying to be the friend I didn’t want. Even though Violet knew her theory about David’s choice of college was ridiculous and claimed to be over it, things were strained between us, too. It felt like sophomore year all over again. Everything had fallen apart overnight. Eyes and whispers followed me wherever I went. Once again, I couldn’t wait for a new start.

  Graduation finally came and went on a warm, sunny afternoon, and then it was all over. I felt sad and relieved all at once. It was time to focus on things to come instead of the past, and planning for college seemed like the best distraction. So a few days into summer, Candy and I sat in my bedroom making a list of the things we would need for our dorm room.

  “How about a TV?” I asked. “Do you want to bring yours or should I bring mine?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Candy replied. “What about a futon? Do you think we can fit a futon? Matt’s going to need somewhere to sleep when he comes to visit.”

  “Ew!” I wrinkled my nose. “When that happens, let me know so I can go home. I’m not sleeping in the same room with you and Crowley getting it on.”

  “We haven’t gotten anything on.” She flashed a wicked grin. “Yet.”

  “It’s on the agenda, then?”

  Her grin grew even wider. “Tonight’s agenda, actually. He has no idea I’ll be making a man out of him later.”

  “No offense, but gross.”

  She picked up a pillow and chucked it at my head. “Consider it payback for all the times you burned my retinas making out with Smurfy. Oh!” She sat straighter, like she’d remembered something important. “Can I borrow your strawberry lip gloss? Matt likes the way it tastes.”

  “If I can find it, you can keep it.”

  I fished through my drawers and my purse, but the lip gloss was nowhere to be found. “Are you sure you don’t still have it?” I asked.

  “No. You let me borrow it at Ryan’s party and I gave it right back.”

  “Oh, right. Then I think I know where to find it.”

  I dug around in my closet, searching for the purse I’d had with me on Saint Patrick’s Day. I hadn’t used it in a while, and sure enough, the lip gloss turned up at the bottom of it. Right next to the Saint Christopher medal I’d almost thrown into the woods that night.

  “Stupid thing,” I muttered, plucking it from my bag. “It keeps turning up like a bad penny.”

  “What is that? A medal?”

  “David’s medal, actually. The one Ryan took from his car the night he busted his chin.” I cringed, thinking about it.

  Candy stuck her lower lip out. “I still can’t believe he told you no.” She was the only person who knew about the night David sent me packing.

  “I can. I deserved it.”

  “No, you didn’t. He’s been in love with you forever, and you finally tell him you love him back and he says no? Sorry, but I’m calling bullshit on that.”

  Something inside me fluttered. “Oh my God,” I murmured.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t actually tell him. I told him I wanted him with me and I wanted to make things work, but I never came out and said I loved him.” I’d had two chances to say it, and I’d blown them both. I stared forlornly at the medal. “Now I won’t get to.”

  “Yes, you will. Tell him right now.” Candy grabbed my cell phone off my vanity and held it in my face. I swatted her arm away.

  “He wants Violet. He told me so.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Listen, you know I love Vi, but boys are toys to her. So David kept her occupied a little longer than most. It still won’t last. He means more to you than he ever will to her.” She held out the phone again. “And I know that because I saw the look on your face the first time she kissed him. Remember?”

  “It’s too late. He said so himself. Besides, it’s not the kind of conversation you have over the phone, and I’m out of excuses to run over there.”

  “Um, dumb ass?” Candy took my hand, the one that held the medal, and brought it up to my face. “You’re holding your excuse in your hand.” She batted her eyes and raised the pitch of her voice. “ ‘David, honey, I have something that belongs to you and I want to give it back. And by the way I love you and I want to have your babies.’ ”

  I couldn’t help but giggle. “Hey, Can, you know who else I love?”

  “Moi?”

  “Damn right.”

  I circled the block three times before I had the courage to finally stop my car in front of David’s-grandfather’s-

  house-turned-David’s-house.

  Not that it would be his much longer. Mr. Kerrigan had told my parents at graduation that they already had an offer, and would probably be out by the end of July. Gone from my life for good.

  I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car right away. I draped my arms over the steering wheel, resting my head against them and trying not to hyperventilate until it occurred to me that David might look out the window. For whatever reason, the embarrassment of being seen staked out in front of his house like a stalker felt worse than any embarrassment that might come from what I was about to do.

  After all, he’d already turned me down once.

  I fingered the Saint Christopher medal in the pocket of my jean shorts as I made my way down the driveway. My toenails were painted fuchsia, and I stared at them as they passed over the gravel, letting the splash of color against the muted stones act as a temporary distraction. If I thought of anything else, the odds that I’d vomit would be exponentially worse. Or better, depending on how you looked at it.

  My stomach contracted when I glanced up and saw David on the back porch, already watching me from the swing. Looking at him felt like taking one of his fastballs to the gut. I had no idea how I’d ever managed to convince myself I wasn’t in love with him. I loved him so much it hurt.

  “Hey,” he said, standing up. “What brings you here?”

  “Um, hey.” I climbed the steps, realizing the minimal exertion it required couldn’t be the reason for my heart pounding. I’d never been afraid to talk to David in my life, and yet there I was, at serious risk of passing out at his feet. “I didn’t come to bother you. And I won’t stay long because I know you’re—” I meant to say “leaving,” but the word refused to come to out. “Packing. I just wanted to give you something.”

  “You don’t have to give me anything.” He leaned against the railing and shuffled his feet against the floorboards.

  “It’s yours, anyway.”

  I produced the medal from my pocket and placed it in his outstretched palm, but at the moment when I should have pulled back, something happened. I couldn’t do it. Instead I folded his fingers over the medal and held his hand in both of mine.

  “Remember the first time I saw this?” The breathless words tumbled out on top of each other, and that was it. After all the time they’d been bottled up, there was no stopping them now. “It was next to the card that Amy ­Heffernan made you, and I think—I think even then, though maybe I didn’t know it, or I guess didn’t want to know it—I was jealous. I hated that you were interested in girls like her. I couldn’t stand having to share you. Not that I blame them. Not that I blame you.” I shook my head, wishing I could at least filter the things spilling out of me, even as the relief of saying them propelled still more from my mouth. �
��I hated that you could have anyone you wanted, and most of all, I hate myself for not figuring out sooner that all I wanted was you.”

  I pulled his arm around me, flinging my own arms around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder.

  “David,” I whimpered as he put his hand on my back in an infuriatingly benign way. “I’m sorry.” I buried my face in his shirt. “I know you don’t want me, and I know I ruined everything. But I love you. And I can’t take this anymore.”

  David’s hand stilled against my back. He stayed quiet and motionless long enough to make me wish I could hurdle the railing and pretend I’d never been there.

  “Say something.” I sighed.

  A pause. “Your timing sucks.”

  “It’s no worse than yours.”

  “Guess I’ll give you that.”

  We both laughed awkwardly and I pulled myself away from him. “Listen. I know we’ve been through this already, but I had to say it. You know how that goes.” I managed a half smile, but David dropped his eyes to the medal rotating between his fingers.

  Defeat. Again.

  My stomach twisted and I knew I had to take the high road while I still could. “I get that you want to treat Violet better than I treated you. So as long as you’re happy—”

  “I’m not with Violet.”

  I must’ve misheard him. “You—what?”

  “I’m not with Violet,” he repeated. “We broke up. No drama or anything; we just didn’t see it working long distance.”

  I tugged at the frayed edge of my shorts, swallowing hard. “Oh. I, um, didn’t know.” So he wasn’t with Violet anymore, but he still didn’t want me. Talk about hitting rock bottom.

  David placed the medal on top of the porch railing and pushed it away with one finger before flattening his palms against the wood on either side of him. He didn’t look at me.

  “I should go,” I said. “Moving sucks and you probably have a ton to do.”

  I started toward the steps, a lump already burgeoning in my throat. I looked up when David blocked my path.