Mr. Shapiro told him to find an empty seat to study. In a classroom with thirty seats, four of them were empty, including the one next to me. I was still smiling when he made eye contact. He smiled back and sauntered over to that seat. He said, “Hi.” I said, “Hi.” From that day forward, we were friends.
I asked him later why he chose to hang out with me. He said, “You were the first friendly face I encountered.”
The beautiful weather from the afternoon turned into thunderstorms in the evening. Rain continues to pitter-patter on the roof as I lay awake in my bed. Squirming to get comfortable, I glance around my room. A strange feeling comes over me that something isn't right. I grew up in this house—everything in it is as familiar to me as the back of my hand. Somehow, it feels foreign, like I’m at a sleepover in a friend’s house I’ve never been to after dark.
Not that falling asleep was an option after what happened today. I continue replaying the events from earlier over in my mind. The words, his voice, my heart. The day comes together and falls apart in a whirling sequence. I can’t stop it. I can’t change it. It just is.
When did everything go wrong? Maybe if I trace back through my memories I can pinpoint the exact moment. I sift through the day one more time. It was clear from the start he did not intend to make peace with me. I doubt there was a chance to change his mind, no matter how I pleaded with him. Over the summer, I had no contact with him. He attempted to contact me though. Perhaps if I had picked up the phone or replied to an email he wouldn't have been so upset. We could have talked, but he probably would've asked me why I left. And I couldn’t tell him the reason why...
My throat tightens. The reason. That's when everything went wrong. I never would have been gone if not for my pride. That one moment, seemingly harmless in the pursuit of growing up, was the moment my world shifted.
It took me nearly two and a half years to get the courage to talk to him about my feelings for him. There was a possibility the day of graduation was my only chance. I would be seeing him over the summer, and even in the fall. We were both attending colleges nearby. Why did I believe it was my only chance? Earlier in the month, he broke up with his girlfriend, Heidi Kane. Usually after a breakup, it didn’t take him long to find someone else. This time, however, he remained girlfriendless. Not just girlfriendless though. There was a difference in the way he spoke to me. The way he was around me. He made a point to touch me more than normal. A light tap on the shoulder, a slight bump arm to arm walking down the hallway. I felt as though it was possible he was giving me a sign. I had to take the risk. I had to talk to him.
I remember every single excruciating word…
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” I had said after the ceremony.
His casual demeanor proved he had no idea what was coming. “Sure, what is it?”
My heart was thumping wildly. Taking a deep breath, I recited the speech I'd memorized: “Graduating high school is the last big step before becoming an adult. It's easy to lose track of everyone when we all start to go our separate ways.”
“That's true.” He was nodding in agreement. He couldn’t see where I was going yet. I couldn’t continue with my full speech without wasting time.
Since I couldn’t afford that, I decided to cut ahead to the end. “I don’t want to lose touch with you.”
My heart sank when he replied, “Of course we can stay in touch! You have my number. We can hang out anytime.”
He still didn’t get it. I was nervous to say exactly what needed to be said. “I want to do more than just hang out.” Too ambiguous. He didn’t understand. I finally spelled it out. “I want to go out with you.”
He stared. I held my breath. My heart was anything but silent. It felt as though it was echoing through the room, bouncing off the walls and then fading into the air.
You know those statements, the ones where the person opens with a compliment then follows it up with a harsh truth? They are trying to soften the blow, like it is a kindness of them to do it that way. Say I’m going to trip and fall—while landing on the grass instead of a concrete sidewalk might feel better, the humiliation remains the same.
The moment dragged on for what felt like hours, finally ending with the words I never wanted to hear from him. “Adrienne, I like you, a lot. I really do. But I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to go out.”
Part of me knew. I flew on a high that caused me to forfeit the possibility of anything other than a happy ending. Impossible to imagine any other option except he and I being together. Instead, he crushed my soul with twenty-four words. My heart shattered in a thousand pieces.
A boom of thunder jolts me back to the present. I duck under the covers at the initial shock to my system. Then I reach down to my kitty plush, Coventry, lying on the floor next to my bed. My dad bought him for me when I was little. I spent years holding on to him to help me fall asleep. There was something about a stuffed animal that felt familiar. Knowing he was there was all the comfort a little girl needed to feel safe enough to fall asleep in a room without a night-light.
I need that comfort now.
Mom didn’t talk to me when I came home and I went straight to my room. Kaitlin, my stepsister, didn’t even say hello when she saw me this morning. Maurice, her father, courteously engaged in small talk with me. Yet that didn’t make the welcome back remotely warm. I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.
But never coming out of a hole will be impossible. I have school—college, actually—on Monday. I remember those days when I looked forward to this day with a gleam in my eye. There is something about it I dread now, although I can’t quite put my finger on it. The only thing I look forward to about college is my best friend Lyndsay.
She is not only my best friend but also my cousin. Since her mom and my mom are sisters, the nurse factor played a role in her life as well. Aunt Faith may have become a nurse but it wasn’t immediate. She got pregnant with Lyndsay right after high school, which ended up putting college on the back burner. Once she was able to, she became a nurse’s aide. My mom thought she could have done better than that. Aunt Faith was fine where she was and didn’t care what my mom thought. This created a little bit of a rift between them, but they have learned to get along for our sake. Mom was slightly vexed at Faith not promoting nursing to Lyndsay, but considered it a victory when she chose to pursue that career after all.
Lyndsay was the only person to comprehend why I ran away. She knew very well how I felt about Chevy. There were some times when I didn’t think she understood, but then she could see my connection to him had significance. Nobody else could see it in him. To the world, he was nonchalant; to me, he was compassionate. To the world, he was the person who would never settle down; to me, he was the opposite when given the chance.
I took that chance.
I needed to throw everything out in the open and let the chips fall where they may. He needed to know how I felt about him. I was never willing to admit it, except to myself. Even Lyndsay didn’t realize the full scope. He was always the boy all the girls were after. The one they all wanted to date. I was optimistic. I thought I had nothing to lose. I thought I knew him. I thought love would conquer.
Those high hopes led to an epic fall.
It's like exposing film to the light. All of the pictures are ruined instantly. Drained of all color, just like my face in that moment. I had just given him my heart. Bared my heart open. Wide open. Let him in. Allowed him to stomp down, shatter, crush, and tear to pieces the last of the love I had to spare in me.
He probably thought he was letting me down easy, leaving me with my dignity. He had good intentions is what they would say. The senseless girl believes he really does want to preserve the friendship. It wasn’t good intentions, or letting me down easy. That is what I told myself.
I knew better.
At least I thought I did. I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe it's possible he wasn't trying to protect me. The hurt in his eyes from e
arlier flashes back into my mind. The vulnerability. The despair. He claimed we were never friends to begin with but he was lying. He felt something—exactly what it was, I don't know. It's more likely he was protecting himself.
Now I'll never know.
All summer I attempted to push our memories out of my mind and fill the void with anything else. As much as I tried to fight it, to forget him, it was to no avail. The feelings lingered; they were in my heart, just as they are still.
I close my eyes and allow the memories to flood in. The times he made me laugh when I was having a bad day. The time we were making fun of that one substitute teacher who never shaved her legs and wore pantyhose. And all the times we sat side by side passing a notebook discreetly to have a conversation without the librarian knowing. Did it all mean nothing? Was I kidding myself? Did he ever feel it too? Did I really love him or did I only think I loved him? I scan these memories searching for an answer.
What could I have done differently? How different would my life be if I chose another path? From where or which way would things come together? Could I make my family proud? Could I create a path that brings me joy? Could I find a way to make everything right again?
The same words roll over and around in my head, making me dizzy over their continual loop.
What if I…and if he…then we could have…but if only we…
Oh, if only.
I fall asleep that night with a trail of tears sliding down my cheeks.
Chapter Three
Saturday morning, June 2nd
Buzz…buzz… “…that’s what they said anyway. I thought it was a good…” Slam!
My alarm clock is set to a local all-talk-no-music radio station. The annoying sounds before and the talking always get me up in the morning. If there were music playing, I would keep sleeping. Groaning, I stretch out my legs, still aching from the tossing and turning last night. Remembering moment after moment with Chevy, replaying the conversation in the cemetery. My mind refused to let me relax.
A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s eight. Wait. Eight? I do a double take. Sure enough, it’s eight. I could have sworn I set it for nine thirty so I could sleep in a bit. I will myself to sleep in another hour and a half. After fifteen minutes of staring at the ceiling, I sit up and rub my eyes. As strange as it is to be in my room again, it looks almost like I never left.
I stretch and go over to my vanity to brush the tangles out of my auburn hair. When I look in the mirror, I notice something different about my clothes. Hadn't I worn the pink and blue striped tank to bed? Why am I wearing the yellow and gray polka dot one? Rolling my eyes, I have a feeling this summer has warped my thought processes.
I throw on a cardigan and head out my door to grab a bagel for breakfast. Kaitlin’s bedroom is across the hall from mine. Her door is open. What is she doing up so early? She is hardly ever up before I am. I peek in to find it empty. Maybe she is in the kitchen.
Before I walk away, I do a double take. Why is Kaitlin’s room pink? She and my mom painted it while I was gone. It was a pale shade of purple yesterday. That’s weird. I shake my head and go to the kitchen. My mom and Maurice are at the table drinking coffee. Maurice looks up from the paper and says, “Good morning.”
Although the tone in his voice seems more cheerful than it should be, given the circumstances, Maurice can sometimes rise above bad things. It’s probably the pale yellow walls. Yellow just seems to bring about a sunny attitude. My reply is automatic, “Morning.” I pull out a bagel and toss it in the toaster. Deciding to extend an olive branch while I wait, I say, “Morning, Mom.” I sneak a glance in her direction to find her smiling.
Smiling?
“Morning, sweetie,” she says.
Is she...happy?
I hide behind the refrigerator door to get the cream cheese before she can see the bewildered expression on my face. There is no rational explanation for her nice demeanor, but I'm not about to question it for fear of ruining the moment. Just spread the cream cheese on the bagel and eat it. Leaning against the counter, I turn to face her again.
She says, “So, are you ready for today?”
“What’s today?” I ask right before I take a big bite.
She gives me a look of impatience as she walks over, putting her dirty dishes in the sink. “Of course you will be a funny girl today.”
As I absently stare at the back of her head, I see something off. Is her hair shorter? It was closer to her shoulders yesterday...wasn’t it? “Did you get your hair cut?”
“Of course I got my hair cut, you were there, sweetie.”
I was? I shake my head again. “Where’s Kaitlin?”
“Taking a shower.”
Maurice says, “She told me she wanted to watch another episode of your show before we leave but there probably won’t be time.”
“Oh.” Earlier this year, Kaitlin was going through my DVDs and discovered The O.C. Once she started, she was hooked. We started to watch it together, her for the first time and me for probably the seventh time. The last one we watched was episode twelve. We were going to watch the rest of the series over the summer. It didn’t go as planned. She finished it by herself. Did she restart? I finish off breakfast. “Hey, wasn’t her room purple yesterday?” I can still picture the color in my head.
Mom gives me a blank look. “No. It wasn’t.” Shaking her head, she gets out a glass, pours some orange juice, and hands it to me. “Drink up. You don’t want to be low on potassium on your big day when you’re walking across the stage.”
“I could have sworn it was a light purple,” I mutter to myself, taking a sip. Then the rest of what she said hits me. “Big day?”
She sighs. “Stop being silly.” She doesn't like it when I play around. In fact, it irritates her to death since it reminds her too much of my dad. The problem is I’m not playing around. I have no idea what she's talking about. Like I said before, I’m not going to question it. Maybe she will just say it. “It’s your turn to shower so hop to it. I’ll go set your outfit on your bed now that you’re up.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek and smiles. “My little girl’s not so little anymore.” Then she leaves.
I find myself staring into the space she occupied a second ago. Something's not right. She isn’t angry with me for leaving anymore. It isn’t possible for her to have forgiven me overnight. Plus, Kaitlin’s room couldn’t have changed, or my mom’s hair. And since when did she become so sentimental? Big day? A stage? Little girl is not so little anymore? It almost sounds like I am getting married. My head is starting to hurt from all these things that are not right. It is kind of like when you were a kid and they said “one of these things is not like the other”—except everything is not like the one thing.
I put the empty glass into the sink, “hop to it,” and get into the shower. My questions will be answered when I see what outfit she puts on my bed. When I get to my room, I don’t find a wedding dress. Thank goodness. I do find, however, a dress—and a graduation cap and gown.
Graduation.
The day everything changed. The day I ran away to my dad. The day my heart broke.
A wave of nausea crashes into me, almost causing my legs to give out beneath me. I grab hold of my doorway with both hands to keep myself standing. A few deep breaths later and my stomach calms down enough for me to close the door. I lean against it and stare at my bed.
How can I be graduating…again?
I rub my eyes and open them again, hoping it was all in my imagination. No such luck. It is still there. This doesn’t make any sense. Where is my suitcase? It’s not on top of my dresser anymore. I left it there when I got back since I didn’t have enough time to unpack. Where did it go?
Opening my closet door, I spot it on the top shelf. Did my mom unpack it for me? Where are the clothes? There is nothing in the hamper and a quick rummage through my dresser finds some of those shirts clean and folded where they belong. How could…? Mom was at work all day yesterday. Not only that, but I saw t
he suitcase right before I turned the lights out last night.
My head is starting to pound with all the conflicting information I'm taking in. Sitting down in my desk chair, I put my head in my hands and start to rub my temples. I need to find something that isn’t out of place. My desk appears to be the same as I left it. Pens and pencils neatly placed in holder, check. Pile of loose-leaf college-ruled paper on top of a pile of used notebooks, check. Word-of-the-Day calendar off to the side, check. Calendar set to the correct date…what…? I reach out and grab it. That can’t be right.
Saturday, June second.
It feels as though I can’t blink. I worry that if I do, the date on this page will disappear. I know for a fact that I peeled off every page I hadn’t removed all summer before I went to bed last night. Each one was crumpled into a small ball and thrown away. I set the calendar down and drop to the floor to look through my trash. However, I can’t look through it because it's empty.
Nothing is making any sense.
I graduated already. This has already happened. Or did it? I dismiss that thought with a laugh. The most logical reason for what is happening is that I’m dreaming. I’m reliving this day in my mind because I spent the time while I was falling asleep thinking about it. Maybe my mind is playing a psychological trick on itself to right the wrongs and help me cope. Maybe this is all in my head. Maybe I’m just imagining all of this.
On the other hand, maybe I am just losing it.
But what if…what if this is really happening? What if I am reliving my whole summer? The prospect causes goose bumps to spread over my skin.
Have I been given a second chance?
This can’t be true. Second chances aren't possible. Not second chances of this nature anyway. Maybe a second chance at an audition. Not a second chance to relive a day in your past. People don't relive things in their life. And if that were even possible, why would we be allowed to know it was happening? Shouldn’t it just happen without the person knowing they are reliving a moment in time that has already happened once? All that needs to be done is hit the redo button and everyone has to start over.
If Only We Page 2