“So what’s this one say?” I asked.
“A letter, it seems.” He handed me the unfolded paper, and then reached into his pocket for his phone. The light shone on the paper, allowing us to read the small block writing. Each word looked as if it were written hurriedly, as if the author wanted to get the note over with.
I’M SORRY ABOUT WHAT I DID AT THE PARTY. I DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU. LET’S GIVE IT ANOTHER GO, OKAY?
“Yikes, what do you think happened?” I asked. Matt put his phone back in his pocket, and folded the note back up.
“I’m guessing this guy—let’s assume it was a guy because of the handwriting—did something awful at a party, and his girlfriend is not happy about it.”
“Cheated on her?”
“I don’t know. I’d say that too, but I don’t think he’d apologize through a note if he did something that bad. You know?”
“Have you met high school boys?”
“Lest you forget, I am one.”
“Well, let’s just say not all are as good as you.”
“You haven’t seen my evil side yet,” he said, tapping his fingers together with a villainous grin.
“Nice try. So no cheating. Maybe he said something behind her back?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“It’s that whole macho thing. Guys say things to other guys to sound cool, but they rarely think about how their words will affect others.”
“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”
“You’re talking to the girl who was high fived, need I remind you.”
“Guys really do that, don’t they?”
“One of the problems with Jake and Meg. He’s very much a guy in front of other guys. You know, bragging and all.” It’s one thing I hated that he did. Nick did it, too. I couldn’t take it—I didn’t get how Meg could.
“We’re awful.”
“Not all of you.” I looked at him, hoping he got what I was saying. “I wonder what he said.”
“Exaggerated about how far they’ve gone?”
“That sounds about right. Maybe it was something off the wall, like they had sex on the moon.”
“That seems logical. I mean, I’d believe it,” he said.
“Or at school.”
“Or on the school’s roof. Wait. Ewww.”
“I don’t want to think about that,” I said, dismissing the thought. “I will say, this guy’s really good at folding notes.”
“Yeah, seriously. I’ve never gotten a note folded as neatly as this.”
“Clearly you’ve dated the wrong girls,” I said. “That should be another requirement next time you date someone. No pets or houseplants that might destroy the relationship, and must be able to fold notes into swans.”
He laughed, looking over at me. “Right. I just need to find the perfect person now.” I snuck a glance at him as we continued to wind down the road.
“Why do these notes and random objects mean so much to you?”
“I don’t know. I guess . . . they remind me that people have stories, you know? I mean, I do, too, but they don’t really go on after I move. I just start over. And, yeah, starting over can be cool, but when there’s no history involved, it’s also kind of . . .”
“Lonely?” I asked.
“A bit, yeah,” he said, looking down and mussing up his wet hair. Bits of water splashed around.
“At least you have your brother,” I tried.
He shrugged, then answered. “Yeah, we’re pretty close. We’ve been through a lot together, with all the moving and stuff.”
“Does he collect things, too?”
“Nah, he adapts a lot easier than me. He’s quicker at finding his group, or, more so, becoming the leader of a group.”
“So he’s one of those guys? Center of attention?” I asked.
“Well, let’s just say he would have been able to get us the drinks at Shop ’n’ Shop.” He said. “I go out with him sometimes, but his friends are a bit too wild for me. Like, this night is tame comparatively.”
“Details,” I pushed.
“Um . . . once he called me to pick him up from a field. This was when we were in New Mexico, before Italy. I seem to recall him not wearing pants,” he laughed.
“Oh wow,” I giggle.
“But, I mean, he’s not always like that. He just likes to fit in. So do my parents—my mom’s big into entertaining, so she meets people easily. And my dad just really gets into his work.”
“And then there’s you,” I said, seeing how different he was from his family. Maybe that’s why he needed notes and memories—so he had a way to fit in, too.
“And then there’s me,” he repeated. “So, yeah, the notes and pictures I like picking up to see other snippets of the world. Like, see that people are happy and have all of these memories and lives. I guess it makes me feel closer . . . more involved.” He paused. “God, I’ve never told anyone about this stuff. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, don’t be sorry. It’s interesting,” I said, but it was more than interesting. It was sad. He found his place in the world through other people’s memories, not his own. How did someone live like that? “What do you do with them?”
“I have a shoebox of them. That’s right, I’m classy like that,” he fake joked. “I keep all these memories in a box.” He paused, then said, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s time for me to stop.”
“Well. For what it’s worth, I’d like to see the box.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “You can be there when the swan note joins it.”
I smiled and hoped, truly hoped, that Orlando might be the home he was looking for.
When we got back, Jake was leaning against his truck, holding a lit cigarette. The smoke was dancing around his body as he sighed deeply. I knew nothing good was going to come from this. Jake only smoked when he was stressed or upset. Clearly his fight with Meg got to him. And the fact that Jake was there and Meg wasn’t worried me.
“You, come on, we’re going,” he said as soon as he saw us.
“You, who?” Matt asked.
“Matt, we’re leaving.”
“What happened? Where’s Meg?” I asked.
“Ask your best friend. She’ll tell you.” I glanced over and saw Meg still sitting in her car. She was staring ahead, visibly fuming.
“Jake, you can’t drive. You’ve been drinking.”
“El, seriously, I don’t want to be lectured right now. So stop being the mother you always end up being, and leave me the hell alone.” The words hit me hard, vibrating through my body. I stopped walking and just stared at him as I let his words sink in.
“Jake, leave her alone,” Matt said.
“Screw you, Matt. You want to stay here with your new girlfriend? Fine, see if I care.” Jake threw his cigarette on the ground, stepped on it, and got into his truck. Two thoughts battled in my mind. On one hand, I didn’t want Matt near Jake at a time like this. I’d seen Jake angry before, but never mean like this. But on the other hand, I wanted someone to look after him, make sure he didn’t hurt himself. Jake revved his engine, presumably waiting for Matt.
Matt looked at me, and then back at the truck. I spoke before he could, effectively deciding for him.
“You should go.”
“Screw him. After what he said about you? And how he’s acting?”
“I know, but . . . he’s Jake.”
“Yeah, and I don’t know him as well as you do. I don’t have to take care of him.”
“But you’re not the kind of person who’d just let him drive away,” I said, turning around to look at him right in his eyes. He blinked, and then lowered his face.
“I’ll . . . I’ll call you later.”
“Thanks.”
“I . . . um . . . yeah, I’ll see you.” He turned around, and ran to the car, making Jake go to the passenger side. No hug, nothing. Watching him go, I realized that he didn’t have my number.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SAL
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NOW
11:00 P.M.
Matt and I are silent during the car ride back to Evan’s party. I have nothing to say. I’m numb. Matt puts on music to fill the void, but it doesn’t work. I know something is playing, something melodic with voices and instruments, but I can’t concentrate on it. I’m focused on him. I’m conscious of every move he makes, every breath, every frown. I’m sure he’s just as aware of me.
I text Meg to let her know that we’re on our way back. I don’t give her any details—I’d rather not get into them over the phone. It’s as if she already knows, though, because she just responds Okay, I’ll be outside, and leaves it at that. My phone vibrates again and I pick it up, expecting something else from her, but instead I see Jake’s name.
Where r you?
Heading back to Evan’s
I hope he gets what that means, and leaves it at that. But of course he doesn’t, because as soon as I put my phone down, it vibrates again.
What happened?
I take a deep breath and out of the corner of my eye see Matt looking at me, watching me. I’m sure he knows who I’m talking to, or at least can guess. And it’s awkward thinking about him, writing about him, when he’s right there. And I have that always-present urge to tell him everything, but I can’t. Especially now.
As I raise my thumb to start typing to Jake I realize that what I say will affect him, too. That without me, there won’t be a Matt and Jake reunion. That I’m this strange building block that’s deciding if our group can once again become whole.
I can’t be that. Everything can’t revolve around my decision. He left me. And while what happened to his brother and family is terrible, I still can’t get past the fact that he lied to me. So it’s his fault. Jake will have to understand that. But still, how am I to compose all of that into one simple text? I shake my head and simply type:
Will call later.
And I hope that’s enough. I look over at Matt and see him staring out at the road in front of us, watching the lights as they pass by. The rain has stopped, but everything looks slick, wet. He’s so close and still so far away. I feel like this is it—this is the conclusion, the closure, I so wanted. But even so, I still feel a little piece of me breaking off, and a little part of me wanting to cry. Because once I get out of the car, it’s officially over. The feeling of that washes over me—as soon as I’m out, I’m free of him.
But am I?
I think about when he left, about the good-bye we had the night before. It feels so different now, knowing he wasn’t just leaving because of his dad’s job. That the sadness he was holding back had to do with his brother, too. Did he know when he kissed me good-bye how much my heart was breaking? I know his was. I remember the tears in his eyes.
Even so, this good-bye seems much sadder.
We pull up to the house, and Meg’s outside waiting for me, frowning. Her foot is tapping, her hands are on her waist, and I can tell she’s using every ounce of energy she has to not run over to the car and punch Matt in the face. I almost let her.
When he parks, I look over and don’t know what to say. There isn’t much left to say.
“Ella . . .” he starts, looking down at his knuckles clenching the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” I answer, because I do. Deep down I do believe he’s sorry, that he regrets everything, but that isn’t enough to make up for how I felt, for what I went through. I’m sorry just isn’t enough of an excuse.
“It’s just,” he continues, turning to me, and I see the fear and hope in his eyes, “you’re here for three more months. Just give me another chance. I’m not leaving this time, no matter what. And here would be a hell of a lot better if you were with me.”
And now it’s my turn to open and close my mouth and find no words coming out. Because it sounds so rehearsed, but still. He means it. “Matt—”
“Please,” he cuts in. “At least think about it. I mean, even if you don’t want to date or anything, at least let’s try starting over. Like, as friends.”
“We never were friends,” I respond meekly, tugging at my bracelet. “I mean, not really. We were always more than that.”
“So let’s try, okay? Just . . . say yes.”
My heart leaps from his pleading, from his question. We’re back there. We’re back to the beginning of the night, to the game we started. But saying yes was so much easier a year ago when I didn’t know I could be that hurt. When I didn’t know how much each yes meant. This time it just seems like a pale comparison, a reminder of what once was and can never be again.
“I can’t do that,” I say, turning away to see Meg waiting for me, beckoning me.
His head slumps down, but he jumps back up, ready to try one more time.
“Just don’t judge me for what my brother did. I’m not him.”
“I know you’re not,” I say.
“And I won’t be. Ever.”
“Okay,” I say, noticing the resolution in his eyes. I know he won’t be—he’s too good for all of that. But I can also see how everything he’s gone through affected him. “I should go . . .” I say, feeling myself wanting to stay and talk more. I can’t do that right now.
“You almost kissed me tonight.”
“Matt—”
“That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.”
I take a deep breath and remember how it was on the roof. How close we were. How, were it not for the rainstorm—
And it is enough. I did want to kiss him. But it was before. Before I knew everything. Before I realized the closer he got, the harder it was. And we can’t go back to before; this much was proven by everything going wrong tonight.
But I did want to kiss him. I really, really did.
“Okay, that and I really missed you,” he admits, and I can’t help but smile. His words are so simple now, so uncomplicated, and I kind of wish we started here instead of under this whole façade of re-creating the night.
“I missed you, too,” I respond, giving him one more look before unbuckling my seat belt and opening the door. Enough.
I shut the door before he can say anything else, but I do stop to look back. He’s staring at me, and even though it’s dark, just like earlier in the night, I know his eyes are shining.
“What was that all about?” Meg asks, instantly by my side. She shoots him a look that could kill a weaker animal, and then pulls me away.
“We said some things that should have been said a long time ago.”
The next time I look back, he’s gone.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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THEN
11:20 P.M.
In the car, Meg let out all of her aggression on the steering wheel. “He’s such an asshole,” she yelled, slamming her hands. We were still parked on the street beside the school. We hadn’t left yet; we weren’t ready. With the mixture of alcohol and anger, I knew we’d be in trouble once she started the ignition. So I opened a bottle of water, handed it to Meg, and let her vent.
I sat in the passenger seat, looking out at the houses in front of us, sometimes glancing at her. I knew she just had to get everything out of her system, let it all pass before I could offer any sort of advice. Not that I had any, really. Jake was an asshole in so many ways, but she wasn’t helping when she decided to kiss him. Not that I’d say that to her.
Meanwhile, I hadn’t heard from the guys. I didn’t let on, but I was worried. I was worried something happened when they were driving. I was worried they were hurt. And part of me, a small part, wondered why Matt just left without anything more than a wave. No hug, nothing. But I decided not to dwell on that since there was other drama going on. There was no point in doubting something before it even started.
“I mean, he co
mes back to me, as if nothing happened, and promises to change. Promises to be someone different. And then he goes off with someone else.”
“What?” I was lost in my own thoughts and had missed a bit of her rant. She’d been yelling for a while.
“Nothing has changed,” she continued over my question. “He’s still the same asshole he was before, despite his promises.”
“What promises?”
“Just . . . stuff he’s said.”
“When? Tonight?”
Meg was silent as she stared down at her hands. “Things are complicated. This wasn’t the . . . first time we hooked up since the breakup,” she said quietly, not meeting my eyes.
“What?” I spat out, finally looking at her. “How could you do that, after everything you’d said?”
“It’s hard! I mean, it’s Jake. I hate him, but I love him. And every now and then, he calls me.”
“But you broke up with him,” I pointed out. “And for a good reason, don’t forget.”
“I know, and I’m glad I did. He was a crappy boyfriend, but . . . it doesn’t mean I stopped loving him,” she sighed. She looked defeated, dead behind the eyes, as if it hurt her to admit this. “He’s dated a few girls since . . . you know. They only last a couple of days. Every time they break up, he comes back to me. And I let him. Every. Single. Time.”
“But why? You know it’s not going to last. You’re better than this, Meg.”
“I know, it’s just . . . how do you think it makes me feel every time I see him with a new girl? I hate him. And then he comes to me, all cute and sweet, with these promises about changing. I know he won’t, but . . . I can’t say no.”
I took everything in, letting the quiet steal our words. “I just . . . I don’t see how a relationship like that could make you happy.” She simply shrugged in response. “I couldn’t handle it,” I admitted. “I mean, I get that it’s you guys, and that’s how you work, but . . .” I trailed off, not ending my thoughts, because I knew they’d hurt her. How could she still trust him? And if she liked him so much, why live in a secret? So I settled on a different question. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The Night We Said Yes Page 13