Always Forever Maybe

by Anica Mrose Rissi

  I knew it was weird to like going to the dentist, but every six months I looked forward to my turn in that chair. It was one of the few places in the world where I felt like I was doing everything right. The dentist always praised my obsessive flossing and good tooth genetics, and getting scraped clean and polished up gave me a feeling of accomplishment without having to do a single thing.

  Jo and Eric once laughed at me for weeks because I’d called the dentist “my happy place,” but I felt safe there. I felt worthy. And I always left feeling better, improved.

  Today was no exception. As soon as the hygienist touched her silver hook to my gum line and started scraping off the plaque, everything I had been clenching so tightly relaxed and unspooled within me. It felt like she was chipping away not only at the buildup on my teeth, but also at all the confusion, guilt, and worry that had piled up inside me. A few tears escaped my eyes, rolling straight for my ears, and the hygienist paused her work. “You okay, hon?” I gave a slight nod and the scraping resumed. It felt good. I cried and she cleaned, and by the time my teeth were finished, I felt cleansed, inside and out.

  It all seemed simple and clear now. I loved Aiden. Aiden loved me. Those were the two facts that mattered, but I’d gotten selfish and lost sight of that. Instead of proving he could trust me I had given him too many reasons to worry—it was no wonder he’d gotten so frustrated with me yesterday. But that was behind us now. We had gotten through it and we would move forward, stronger and better than before. We had to. I loved him. He was my world.

  I called Aiden’s phone while I waited outside for my dad to pick me up. It rang twice and went to voice mail. “Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to hear your voice, but I guess you’re busy, so here’s my voice, telling you that I love you.”

  I hung up and focused on a clump of daffodils near my feet. It was springtime. The world was beautiful. Everything was going to be just fine.

  The phone vibrated in my hand. You are the most wonderful girl in the world

  I smiled. Why thank you

  Climb out your window and run away with me tonight

  I was pretty sure he was kidding. My window was on the second floor and I was liable to break my leg just thinking about jumping. Okay. Where will we go?

  Everywhere. Nowhere. Who cares, as long as I’m with you?

  I’d like to see the ocean, I wrote.

  Yes. I love you so damn much. I’ll call you later

  I waved to my dad as he pulled into the parking lot. I’ll pack my swimsuit

  Better yet, don’t

  Thirty-Two

  MOM’S RANDOMLY IMPOSED, STRICTLY ENFORCED Family Nights occasionally approximated something resembling fun back when Kyle was still around, but ever since he’d abandoned me for college, they were so predictably torturous for everyone involved, I could only blame Mom’s sadomasochistic streak for her insistence that they continue. I hoped that for this one she would let us pick out a movie to stare at together in silence, but when Dad and I arrived home from the dentist, the board games were already stacked on the table. Even my love of Scrabble couldn’t make time tick faster, nor keep my mood from deflating like a punctured balloon. Pop.

  Mandatory Quality Time was also phone free, just to further torture Dad and me. When I powered on my cell, it buzzed right away with a message from Jo. I held on to it, waiting for something from Aiden, but the longer I stood there, willing it to appear, the more fully I understood that nothing was coming. My stomach sank and my anxiety spiked to peak levels. It was the smallest of signals, more like the absence of one, really, but by this point I didn’t need him to broadcast what he was thinking—I was hyper-attuned to each shift in his mood and heard it loud and clear. His temper was like my dog whistle. I wished I could plug my ears.

  This was exhausting. It was exhausting and demeaning and, what felt worse was, I should have known. After all those apologies, after the flurry of kisses and promises and tears, after I’d handed back the power by letting him put what he’d done behind us and keep my heart, now this. He was pouting again, or giving me a lesson in who-knows-what. Maybe I’d taken too long to forgive him and now that I had, he was punishing me for the wait. Maybe he felt slighted that when he’d called twenty minutes after the dentist, I’d sent it to voice mail and texted In the car with Dad, and hadn’t been out of my parents’ sight since. Maybe he was jealous of the dentist and hygienist, or of my parents, or even my dog, because of the time I was spending with them.

  I didn’t know what I had done, but I knew it was my job to reach out and apologize now, to plead and try to prove whatever it was he needed me to prove. But I was tired. No matter how hard or how well I jumped through his hoops or ran when he called or rolled over at his command, it seemed it would never be enough. I’d been performing all day at school and performing for my parents all night, and I couldn’t muster enough energy to jump for Aiden now, too. I was bruised and fatigued and just so over it, over everything. All I could do was text Jo back, get ready for bed, and sleep all my feelings away.

  But my dreams were thick with panic. All night I ran in desperate search of things I couldn’t reach, see, or find. I was helpless and inept and everyone in the world was mad at me—my parents, Jo, Aiden, even OJ. I had disappointed them all. It was as draining and overwhelming as being awake. I was sorry, so sorry, though I didn’t even know for what.

  In the morning, there was a text. I miss you

  My defensiveness melted. I thought back to last night and almost laughed out loud at how paranoid and ridiculous I’d been, letting my insecurities and fears spin out and take over. Of course he wasn’t giving me the silent treatment, punishing me for doing nothing. He’d just known I was busy, and was probably busy with family stuff himself. I’d gotten too wrapped up in my own head and let exhaustion take over, lost sight of all reason. I couldn’t let myself freak out like that over what had happened on Thursday—it was an accident, and it was behind us. This was Aiden. He loved me. I needed to trust him and stay rational, remember he loved me.

  I miss you too, I responded.

  Skip the dance and hang with me tonight instead

  My heart tugged in two directions. Much as I wanted to give in and say yes, to spend the night in his arms, letting him show and reassure me that everything between us was fine, I also really wanted to dance. I wanted a night with no drama, out with my friends, together like old times for what would probably be one of the last times. I wished Aiden could understand that, even more than I wished he could be part of it too.

  I can’t. I’m sorry. Jo would kill me if I bailed

  Seriously? he wrote.

  It’s just one night. I’ll make it up to you

  You better

  I read the words twice but couldn’t tell if they were angry or playful. That was the problem with texting, it could be hard to interpret tone. But if I wanted to stop being anxious and mistrustful of every possible thought in his head, I needed to relax and stop second-guessing us.

  Come visit me at the Shack today? I asked.

  Maybe. Gotta go

  I stared at the screen. Regret flowed through my veins. It made me feel helpless, the way he ran all hot and cold. I wanted to call him immediately and make sure we were okay. But I knew he was likely just busy at work, and I didn’t want to seem too desperate and pathetic, even though that’s exactly what I was, exactly what he’d made me. Exactly what I’d made myself, too.

  All I could do was type, Okay. I love you and hope those words were enough.

  Thirty-Three

  SPRING SUNSHINE AND WARMTH BROUGHT THE CUSTOMERS rolling in at a steady clip through my afternoon shift. By the time the hands on the lollipop clock ticked past three—the hour Aiden got off work—I’d scooped so many ice cream cones my arm muscles felt like rocks suspended in jello. A little flare of hope ignited in my chest each time the bells jingled to signal an incoming sugar-seeker, but after two hours of jerking my head toward the door only to see it wasn’t him, again, it final
ly sank in: He wasn’t coming.

  He hadn’t promised he would, but he also hadn’t said he wouldn’t, or bothered to text anything else at all, and I couldn’t help feeling like I was being punished for choosing Jo and the dance over him. I wiped my hands on my apron, pulled the ice cream scoop out of its water-and-gobs-of-cream-froth bath, and wondered if I should give in and go to his place after my shift. I could text Jo and tell her that something had come up, maybe place the blame on my parents. But no matter how good a lie I came up with, I somehow knew Jo wouldn’t let me get away with it. I imagined her banging on Aiden’s door, forcing me into a dress, and dragging me out of the apartment while Aiden pulled my other arm to keep me there. Or, worse, she might show up at my house and tip off my parents.

  No. She wouldn’t really do that. But even the possibility that she almost might was enough to scare me into continuing along the path I’d already chosen. Besides, I wanted to go to the dance. I didn’t want to tiptoe around Aiden’s moods and bend to his will, to be the kind of girl whose boyfriend controls her every move. I wasn’t that girl. I was smarter than that. I needed to remember to act like it.

  After all the emotions and worries and extreme ups and downs of the past few days, I deserved a night to forget about everything and just dance.

  I scooped a double cup of Cotton-Candy Crunch and a cone of Malted Magic with Loopy for Licorice on top, and smiled for the customers. “Lexa can ring you up right over there when you’re ready,” I said. We’d been so busy throughout the shift, I’d barely spoken to Lexa all day, but there would be plenty of time for chatting soon enough, when I became the odd extra on her involuntarily double date. I wondered if she ever resented Jo the way Jo resented her. If she did, she was far too sweet, or too smart, to show it.

  Mr. Sugarman emerged from the back room, hefting a giant bag of gumdrops. “Joanna, help me refill this canister while Lexa takes care of these fine folks, and then you both can skedaddle. Wouldn’t want you turning into pumpkins before the ball even starts.” He winked so kindly, it made me almost sad.

  We topped off the gumdrops, then I clocked out and texted Aiden hey and how was your day, but when I climbed the front steps to Jo and Eric’s house twenty minutes later, he still hadn’t responded. Okay. So he was angry. There was nothing I could do about it now. I resolved to let that be his problem and try not to let it ruin my night.

  “Hiiiii!” Jo cried, throwing her arms in the air as I let myself in, and immediately I could tell she’d been bouncing-off-the-walls hyper for hours. Eric’s eyebrows, when he turned to greet me, confirmed it. He stood at the stove, dishing out what appeared to be at least his second helping of spaghetti.

  “You hungry, Bumble Bee?” Before I could nod, he was already taking down a clean bowl for me. He heaped it with pasta while I got myself a fork. Their mom’s spicy tomato sauce smelled amazing as usual. Dr. Metmowlee spent a full weekend each September in an epic sauce-making marathon, cooking down hundreds of plum tomatoes in a kitchen thick with steam and Nina Simone. Inevitably we all would get put to work, chopping and stirring and prepping the endless mason jars. I realized with a pang that last year’s canning days had probably been my last—that when it happened this year, it would happen without any of us. We’d be eating inferior sauce stuck to overcooked noodles in our new dining halls with our new friends, hundreds of miles apart. Or I’d be here, but with Aiden, only stopping by this house when Jo and Eric came home between semesters, if they came home at all. Maybe they would fill their breaks with internships and adventures, like Kyle was doing to avoid our house. I banished the thought from my brain.

  “Nice apron,” I said to Eric.

  “You like it?” He looked down at the vibrant lip-print fabric with KISS THE COOK across the chest. “It’s a gift from our gram.”

  “A gift for me,” Jo clarified.

  “But it seemed like more my style,” Eric said. My mouth was too full to respond.

  Jo’s phone chimed with a text, and from the small, private smile she gave when she saw it, I could only assume it was from Sydney. My own phone stayed silent and still in my pocket, and I wondered what Aiden was doing right then, and what it would take to appease him.

  Eric hoovered the last of his noodles. “I told Lexa we’d swing by in like an hour so her mom can take pictures.”

  Jo’s thumbs paused above her screen. “Gosh, does that leave her enough time to get pretty?”

  Eric ignored the snark and dumped his dishes into the sink. “Lexa always looks pretty,” he said. Even Jo couldn’t argue with that.

  I took a shower to rinse off the workday grime, wrapped myself in one of Jo’s thick towels, and returned to her room. She was wearing a soft peach dress I’d never seen before, and I wondered what day she’d gone shopping. I felt a pinch of sadness that she hadn’t invited me to go with her, and that if she had, I’d most likely have said no. I was glad I was here for tonight, at least. However cranky Aiden might get about it, this had been the right way to go.

  She twirled, showing it off. “You look gorgeous,” I said. “That dress is perfect.”

  “Thanks. There’s yours.” She nodded toward the bed, where the long blue dress I would borrow was laid out next to a curled-up Stella, who narrowed her eyes as I approached. The last inch of her tail flicked once with disdain.

  I picked up the dress by its hanger and froze as Jo’s hand touched my arm. She ran her fingers over the bruises Aiden had left on my bicep, and I held still, barely breathing, as I waited for her to react. The marks had faded a lot over the past two days, but I should have known Jo would still notice them. Of course I’d known. Maybe I had even wanted her to.

  Her hand dropped. “I can cover these up pretty well with concealer, I think. My skin is darker than yours but that shouldn’t matter too much for arms, especially with the lights off. I don’t even see the ones on your neck anymore.”

  I exhaled. She thought they were hickeys. I was relieved and disappointed. Relieved I didn’t have to lie any further, disappointed my best friend could no longer see my whole truth.

  I put on the dress, clipped my hair back in a twist, and watched while Jo camouflaged the bruises. I let her talk me into mascara and lip gloss—“Just a touch,” she said, “look up”—and soon we were ready to go. I examined myself in the mirror. I looked good. Even though I was three inches taller than Jo and flatter, the dress fit me perfectly. I wished Aiden could see me in it. I snapped a photo and hit send. Makeup by Jo, I wrote, and tucked the phone into my purse.

  We went downstairs, where Eric was waiting, wearing a pale pink shirt under his dark gray blazer. His hair was still wet from the shower, with comb marks running through it, and when Jo pushed us together for a picture, I was hit by the soap-and-cedar scent of his skin. Jo leaned in beside me and we all pressed close for a selfie. “Too freaking cute,” she declared. She bent to strap on her shoes.

  Jo held out her hand and Eric forfeited the car key. “You want shotgun?” he asked as we followed her to the Wildebeest.

  “Nah, I’ll take the back. Less chance of someone seeing me riding with a newly licensed driver.”

  “Ah, right: the Rules.” He held open the car door for me and waited while I slid inside. “You look really nice,” he said, and I looked up in surprise.

  Jo started the engine. “Damn right she does!” She winked at me in the rearview as she adjusted the mirrors and Eric buckled himself into the front seat. I blushed with happiness. My friends were the best.

  At Lexa’s house, we got out of the car and dutifully posed for hundreds of pictures while Lexa’s mom swooned over all of us and Lexa apologized profusely. I could see why Lexa was embarrassed, but in truth none of us minded—in fact, it was kind of fun. Every game of dress-up should have an appreciative audience.

  Jo and I stood to the side as the photo shoot ended with a few dozen couple shots. We watched as Lexa’s mom shouted instructions for the position of Eric’s arm around Lexa’s waist and the tilt of Lexa�
��s chin. “Are you nervous?” I asked Jo.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  “Now kiss!” Lexa’s mom cried, and I looked away as they leaned in to comply. Jo smiled right at them, but her attention seemed elsewhere. “Ooooh,” Lexa’s mom said. “That one’s going on Facebook.”

  When we got to Sydney’s, Jo jumped out to get her and Eric climbed between the front seats to squeeze into the back between Lexa and me. I leaned forward to watch as Jo rang the doorbell and Sydney stepped outside, holding something white that she presented to Jo. Jo laughed and held out her arm, and Sydney tied the thing to Jo’s wrist. They got in the car and Jo showed off what it was: a bouquet of paper unicorns, hand-drawn with black ink and fastened into a corsage. I was impressed.

  “I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers would match her dress, but unicorns go with everything,” Sydney said. She looked arty and sophisticated in a simple black dress that offset her still-winter-white skin and the blondness of her short, asymmetrical hair. Jo beamed at her in a way that made my heart ping with gladness, and I wished Aiden were here to look at me that way too.

  I took out my phone as Jo cranked up the music and pulled away from the curb, and saw he had finally texted back. Wipe it off, the message said. You look slutty

  My vision blurred. I closed my eyes, bit my lip, and felt the world swirl around me until Eric’s hand on my arm brought me back to where I was. “You okay?” he asked softly.