“Kennedy saw us,” I say as we leave the parking lot. “Expect the whole school to know about us by tomorrow.”
“What makes you think it’ll take that long?” he asks, shaking his head. “That girl is a one woman news agency. She spreads news faster than CNN.”
“So if I have any questions about your past, all I have to do is ask her.” I’m joking, but as I say it, I realize I know very little about Eddie’s past relationships. Does it really matter, though? Everyone has a past.
“No, all you have to do is ask me. You know I’ll be upfront with you, even if it isn’t something you want to hear,” he says. “What do you want to know? Who I’ve dated?”
“I was just messing around. You don’t have to tell me anything. The past is past. What happens between us is all that matters,” I say.
“I haven’t dated since the summer,” he says. “Before that, I dated a girl from my neighborhood. She goes to Westwood. There were a few other girls before her, but no one I dated regularly.”
I’m quiet. An exchange of information is a two way street. I don’t want to know about Eddie’s past because I’m reluctant to reveal my own. “Eddie, you really don’t have to spill your guts.”
“I don’t sleep around,” he says. “I haven’t been with anyone in months.”
My face is burning. I don’t want to hear this. Not now.
“Rowan?”
“Me neither. I mean, I’ve barely left my house since last school year.”
“Before Mark?” he asks.
“No one. I mean, I went out a few times, mostly to dances. Mark was my only long-term boyfriend.”
“Really? That surprises me. Your dad must have scared everyone else away.”
I roll my eyes.
“I really shouldn’t ask this…”
“Then don’t ask.”
“What are you hiding? Every time I come close to mentioning Mark’s name, you freeze up. Is it because Mark and I used to be friends?”
I shrug, looking down at the sidewalk and fighting back panic. Fear is rising in my chest.
“Look, we never talked about you. Not really. If you’re afraid Mark was the type to kiss and tell, he wasn’t…”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Every word is a struggle. I stop walking. I bend over and put my hands on my knees, gasping for breath, struggling to calm my racing pulse. Eddie’s hand is rubbing my back.
“Rowan? Rowan? Are you okay?”
I put one finger up, signaling for him to give me a minute. I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten, focusing on pushing air through my lungs. My airway feels constricted, but I know it isn’t. This has happened often enough that I know I’m not dying—it just feels like it. After about a minute, I’m breathing more easily. I stand up, afraid to look at Eddie. Afraid to see the expression on his face.
“You okay?” he asks again. I nod. “Do you need to sit down? Should I call your dad?”
“No! No, definitely not. I’m fine. It’s just a minor freak out. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and I haven’t died yet, so…”
“It’s a panic attack, Rowan. Do your parents know?”
“No. I don’t want to worry them. It’s not a big deal.” We’re walking again. My knees are wobbly, but Eddie’s arm is around my waist, supporting me.
“Well, no, it won’t kill you or anything, but it isn’t fun. My sister-in-law had panic attacks after she had my niece. They gave her some drugs and she barely has to take them at all anymore. You should talk to your parents or see a doctor.”
“Maybe.” I still haven’t looked at Eddie, so I don’t know if he thinks I’m crazy. He probably does. I feel like crying, but I resist. Crying makes the panic attacks worse.
We finally reach the playground. At this point, I’d rather go home, but I don’t tell Eddie that. We sit down on an empty bench. He takes my hand.
“You feeling okay?” he asks softly.
“Just embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m nuts. I didn’t want you to find out I was crazy until later,” I say, forcing a laugh.
“I told you before—I’m okay with crazy. I’m sorry I pushed you by talking about…well, you know. I won’t bring it up again, but if you ever need to talk, you know I’m here, right?”
I nod, and to my horror, a tear falls down my cheek. Crap. Guys hate waterworks. Mark always hated it when I got upset or cried. Tears always make Dad uncomfortable. Overall, it has been my experience that guys don’t do well with tears.
Eddie pulls me close, and his kindness only makes me cry harder. “I’m really sorry, Row. Shit, I made you cry on your birthday. What the hell kind of boyfriend am I?”
“The best,” I say, wiping my leaking eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. “Sorry I’m neurotic and emotional. I’ll try to chill out. I promise.” The last thing I want to do is scare Eddie away with my panic attacks and tears.
“Hey,” he says, lifting my chin and turning my head to face him. “I love you. It’s gonna take more than a panic attack to get rid of me.”
“Love you too,” I mumble.
“Do you think your parents will get you a BMW for your birthday?”
“I’m thinking probably not,” I say, giggling slightly. “Is that what you got for your eighteenth?”
“They didn’t have the color I wanted at the dealership, otherwise…”
“Oh, I hate it when that happens. I can’t imagine the horror of having to drive a dark blue car when what I really wanted was an indigo blue.”
Eddie and I joke around about our spoiled peers. I feel somewhat guilty because some of the scenarios we laugh about remind me a little of Morgan. But I’m happy to be laughing with him instead of burdening him with my neuroses.
The sun begins to set, so I glance at my phone. It’s almost time for me to head home. Eddie and I have spent the past hour holding hands and talking, but when I tell him it’s time for me to go, he lowers his lips to mine and kisses me. His lips almost make me lose track of time, but eventually, I pull away from him.
Eddie unzips his backpack and pulls out an envelope. “I didn’t know what to get you…”
“You didn’t have to get me anything. Seriously.”
“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to. I thought since you’ve always wanted to have the leading role in Romeo and Juliet, you should at least get to see it on stage before you perform. It isn’t until March.” He hands me the envelope. “There’s two tickets, but don’t feel like you have to take me. Take anyone you want. Morgan. Your mom.”
I pull the two tickets from the envelope. They’re real tickets—not just the kind you print off the internet. I’m stunned by his generosity. “I…Thank you,” I say, flinging my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “This is incredible, Eddie.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it. I can’t think of anything I want more. You’re definitely coming with me, Romeo.”
As we walk toward my house, hand in hand, I think about how perfect Eddie’s gift is. How perfect he is. For an instant, a feeling of dread settles in the pit of my stomach. Everything is perfect for the first time in a long time. I’m waiting for something to blindside me, for this fragile contentment to be obliterated by unseen circumstances. Nothing stays perfect forever. This I know.
***
For my birthday, my parents give me money and insist I spend it on myself instead of tucking it away in my savings account. They tell me I don’t need to save for a car because they’ve decided to give me one for graduation. I have flashbacks of my previous conversation with Eddie, but the car I’m getting is far from a BMW. In fact, my parents are buying a new car and giving me Mom’s old Honda. It’s ten years old and has almost two-hundred-thousand miles on the odometer, but it’s reliable and good on gas. I’m so grateful, I get up in the middle of the restaurant and give them both hugs. I’ll be able to get to my classes when I begin college in the fall, and I won’t have to take the bus. This miracu
lous turn of events, though much-appreciated, reinforces my earlier feeling of dread.
When we get home, Dad goes into his office to grade papers while Mom and I talk. I show her the tickets.
“What a perfect gift,” she exclaims. “You really like Eddie, don’t you?” We haven’t really talked about my date with Eddie, but she knows I had a great time.
“Mom, he’s amazing. I can’t explain. He’s just…wow.”
“Your dad didn’t want to admit it, but I think he was impressed that Eddie came to pick you up like a gentleman. It impressed him that Eddie didn’t want to sneak around behind his back.”
“Honestly, I thought about it. I didn’t want to face the wrath of Dad, but Eddie told me Dad would find out eventually, and asked me how I thought he’d feel when he found out I betrayed him.”
“Your dad doesn’t hate Eddie,” Mom says, patting my hand. “If he did, he wouldn’t have agreed to let you go out with him. Your dad’s disappointed in Eddie for throwing his life away. And I think he’s hurt that someone he coached for three years ended up ignoring all his advice. You know, your dad doesn’t just care about them as players—he cares about his guys as students and as human beings. It wasn’t just about a state championship, it was about his guys hurting their chances for the future.”
Mom’s right. Dad really does care about his players—and his students. He’s known for staying after school to help struggling geometry students. He works far more than a typical forty-hour work week, and then comes home to grade papers and work on player stats. His dedication explains why Eddie still has such respect for my dad. Even though Dad insists he’s never liked Eddie, he’d still fight for him. Dad’s a good teacher, a good coach, a good person. I feel bad for all the times I’ve complained about him relying on me and Mom to do everything for him at home.
I’m lucky to have a father who not only gives his all to his family, he’s dedicated enumerable hours to countless students over the years. I’m also lucky to have a boyfriend who realizes how exceptional my dad is, and who respects him for it. As I kiss my mom goodnight and make my way to my room, I count my blessings and wonder how long it will be before my luck runs out.
Chapter Twelve
Eddie and I have been dating for three weeks. So far, we’ve seen each other almost every day. On weekdays, Eddie walks me home after short rehearsals. When we have extended rehearsals that last until almost dark, Morgan gives us a ride home. On weekends, Eddie walks over to my house or borrows his brother’s car so he can take me out. I can tell it really bothers him that he doesn’t have a car, especially since my last boyfriend drives a brand new sports car. But Eddie doesn’t mention Mark—not since my birthday.
I try to pretend Mark doesn’t exist, but it’s impossible. I hear his name in the hallways at school, and sometimes catch glimpses of him. His presence haunts me, and even though Eddie and I never speak of him, Mark’s nasty, putrid memory insinuates itself into my relationship with my new boyfriend. I hate Mark for his potential to ruin my happiness with Eddie, because no matter how hard I try to put him out of my mind, he’s always there, creating a niggling doubt that Eddie has the potential to do what Mark did.
It’s Valentine’s Day and since Eddie can’t borrow Carlos’ car, we’ve decided to go out tomorrow instead. I’m spending the night at Morgan’s house tonight. As she pointed out, ever since Eddie and I started dating, she barely has me to herself. The last thing I want to do is turn into one of those girls who forgets their friends and family just because they have a new man in their life.
We don’t have rehearsal this afternoon, so Morgan and I are going to the mall to do some shopping. I have to get Eddie something for Valentine’s Day—something that isn’t stupid. Our relationship is too new for either of us to buy anything expensive or emotionally charged. Really, Eddie chose the perfect gift for my birthday. It was a personal, thoughtful gift, but wasn’t too personal considering we’re both performing in Romeo and Juliet. I can’t imagine what he’ll get me for Valentine’s Day, but I’m sure it will be something. For guys, it’s easy to shop for Valentine’s Day. Flowers, candy, and maybe a teddy bear, and their work is done. But what the hell do I get for someone I’m still getting to know? This is what Morgan is supposed to help me figure out.
When Morgan and I arrive at school, Eddie is waiting in the parking lot. He kisses my cheek and loops his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him. Morgan is the third wheel as we walk inside the building.
I stagger back a step when I see Mark standing in the hallway with a group of jocks. Eddie tenses beside me, but continues to move forward, coaxing me along. Mark ogles us as we walk past. His mouth curves in a mocking smile.
“Asshole,” Morgan mutters when we’re out of earshot.
“His loss is my gain,” Eddie says, leaning down and kissing my cheek.
“You’re so sweet,” Morgan says. “Row, you’re so lucky.”
“I am.” My voice sounds hollow, but maybe only to me. The rushing in my ears makes it hard to tell. Maybe Mark has heard rumors about Eddie and me dating, but now he’s seen proof. It’s possible Mark doesn’t really care. After all, he moved on pretty quickly after I stopped speaking to him. But I know Mark. I know that look he had on his face. He cares. Not because he actually cares about me. He just likes to mess with people.
As the day progresses, I notice people seem to be watching me closely. The buzz of conversation stops when I walk into a classroom. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I usually sit with a group of show choir girls in the lunchroom, because neither Eddie nor Morgan share the same lunch period with me, but today I’m so uncomfortable by the odd looks from the other students, I opt to sit outside on the patio.
The wind whips my hair across my face the moment I step outside. I navigate past a picnic table occupied by Goths trying to take clandestine hits off a cigarette or blunt, and move toward the outer edge of the patio area. By the time I catch a glimpse of Mark and his cronies, it’s too late.
“There she is. It’s Eddie’s new girlfriend.”
My head snaps up when I hear Mark’s voice. A strand of hair blows into my gaping mouth, and I use one trembling hand to remove it. My gaze collides with Mark’s and I quickly look away.
“Come sit with us,” he says. “We won’t bite.”
Laughter rings out from the half dozen jocks who are perched around the table, hanging on every insult or toxic barb Mark is about to toss my way. Feeling nauseated and close to fainting, I lurch toward the doorway. Books spill from my arms.
“Shit,” I mutter, close to tears. I bend down to retrieve my books, feeling Mark’s eyes on my back.
“When did you start dating Eddie?” Mark asks. I don’t reply. “That’s stooping pretty low, isn’t it? Dating the dumbass who ruined our chances of going to State?”
I grab a few loose papers that have fallen from between the pages of my Latin book. One page gets swept away by a gust of wind, but I don’t dare retrieve it. I make my way toward the door leading back into the cafeteria. My back is frozen, my legs wooden. Just before I reach the door, Mark shoots in front of me, blocking my escape.
“Did you feel sorry for Eddie? Is that why you’re going out with him?” he asks. “Or maybe he feels sorry for you. Just like I did.”
“Move,” I mutter. “Please.” My whole body is shaking so badly, I can hardly keep a grip on my books.
“Does Eddie realize what you’re really like?” he taunts. “A frigid prude whose legs are welded shut at the knees.”
Tears are falling freely now. I can’t stay here another second. “Get out of my way,” I say forcefully.
Mark grabs my chin and wrenches my head up. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. Maybe I should have a talk with your new boyfriend. Someone ought to warn him about you, don’t you think?”
His friends’ laughter escalates. How much do they know? What has Mark told them?
“Dude, chill the fuck out,” a voice says from beside me. �
�Leave her alone.”
“Stay out of this, freak.” Mark lets go of my arm and turns his attention to the black-clad, heavily pierced guy who is now standing next to me. Gage. I recognize him from my art and English classes, but we’ve never talked. “Go sit down with the rest of your fucking friends.”
“I’ll sit down when you leave her alone. Seriously, what’s your problem?”
Mark turns away from me and shoves Gage. Like a coward, I take advantage of his distraction to make my escape. I wrench open the door and rush through the cafeteria, tears rolling down my face. I’m cognizant of the fact that people are staring at me, speculating about my distress, but I don’t care.
Escape beats a steady pulse in my veins. I blitz through the cafeteria and down the hallway toward my fifth period class, not caring that I’ll have to hang out in the hall for the next twenty minutes. Just before I reach my destination, I veer into the girls’ restroom. I drop my books on the countertop and barely make it into one of the stalls before I lose the contents of my stomach.
Gasping and heaving, hands on my knees, I try to catch my breath. When I’m certain I can stand up straight without getting sick again, I leave the stall and turn on the faucet. Cool water flows into my cupped palms and I splash some on my face. The face staring back at me in the mirror is splotchy and puffy. Streaks of mascara mar my pale skin. Using paper towels, I clean up the worst of the damage before the bell rings.
I draw a few curious stares in fifth period, but by the time last period rolls around, I feel shaky, but relatively normal. I wonder if Eddie will be able to tell I’ve been crying. Maybe someone already filled him in on my breakdown. Maybe Mark or one of his friends already talked to him. A wave of dizziness sweeps over me and I stand outside the art room, bracing myself before I go inside to face Eddie.
“You okay?”
It’s Gage. My hero, the Goth who saved me from Mark. I’m relieved to see he’s still in one piece, but guilty that I left him to face an uncertain fate.
“Yeah. Are you?”
He gestures toward a rip in the sleeve of his black trench coat. “No worries.”
Sweet Sorrow Page 10