My Only

by Sophia Duane

  Reluctantly, I went into the kitchen and stood at the end of the island watching my dad cook. If I’d been in a better mood, I would have offered to help or just jumped in and done it. But I was stuck in a strange quicksand of emotions—a mixture of anger, disappointment, frustration, and depression.

  When he noticed I was there, he tried to talk to me, but my mood didn’t al ow for anything other than monosyl abic responses. After fifteen minutes, I left. I wanted to be by myself, and I was wil ing to risk passing Aaron to achieve that.

  My brother wasn’t in the hal way as I went upstairs, but I could make out his words as he continued his phone conversation in his bedroom. He was talking about Olivia. He was talking about the dance. He was talking about al of the things I wanted to be talking about.

  I slammed my bedroom door behind me, I flopped down onto my bed, and pul ed the covers up around me until I was nothing more than a lump.

  Sometime later, my father cal ed me downstairs. I slumped in my chair at the table, refusing to talk to Aaron. I could tel by my dad’s expression and the way he was constantly looking between us that he was trying to figure out what was wrong. Aaron was so happy and I was so . . . not.

  When his plate was almost finished, Aaron announced, “I asked Olivia to the dance.” I kept my eyes focused on the barely touched food on my plate.

  “Did you?” my father said.

  “Yeah. Of course, she said yes.”

  My brother’s confidence and smug tone only served to strengthen the pul of the emotional quicksand. I was sinking faster now. More words were exchanged, but I purposely didn’t listen. “Adam? Adam.”

  I looked up at him.

  “Are you okay?”

  My dad’s face made it perfectly clear. He knew what had just happened. He knew that I liked Olivia. He knew that Aaron had basical y stolen my opportunity.

  But he said nothing about it. Instead, he just asked me how I was. What did he think? How was I supposed to be? This was just another in a long line of successes for Aaron and failures for me.

  “Adam?”

  Usual y I would help clean up, but I didn’t have enough wil or drive to even try to do what I usual y did. It didn’t matter anyway. No matter what, Aaron got the girl and I got nothing.

  “I’m fine,” I final y said before turning and leaving the room.

  I could hear my dad as I approached the stairs. “You know he likes her,” Dad said to Aaron.

  My brother made a noise that sounded like “pppfffttt.” Then he said, “I backed off for weeks! How long was I supposed to wait?”

  “Aaron.” My dad’s voice sounded like a warning.

  “I like her, too, and if he’s going to pussy out at everything, why shouldn’t I—?” I couldn’t listen to any more of this and climbed the stairs, shut my door, and buried myself beneath the warmth of my blankets and pil ows. I wanted to stay buried forever. I doubted many people would miss me. I wanted to disappear into my bed until the whole world had changed.

  But it was Sunday. No matter what I wanted, I knew that I would have to emerge tomorrow.

  I slept uneasily. For the first time I actual y knew what my brother went through with his insomnia. I tossed and turned for most of the night. I final y dropped off around two thirty. My alarm woke me at the regular time, but I turned it off. If Aaron was dependent upon me to wake him up today, he would be late for school.

  I wasn’t going.

  I’d decided on that somewhere between one thirty and two fifteen in the morning. No one real y cared about perfect attendance anyway. It wasn’t because I was too tired. I’d been tired before. I just didn’t want to have to spend al day looking at Olivia and Aaron. I was sure they’d look like an instant couple. He always had a way of making it seem like new girlfriends had been on his arm for ages.

  I was able to get back to sleep much easier this time but then pounding on the door woke me up again. The sun was brighter and my clock told me that it was after eight.

  “What?” I grumbled loudly.

  The door flew open. Aaron stood there in his pajamas, eyes bugging out. He looked panicked. I almost enjoyed it. Behind him was my dad.

  “You never woke me up!” Aaron said in a rush. “We’re late.”

  I blinked at him then lowered myself down onto the bed. “You think?”

  Dad’s face showed his concern. He pursed his lips. “What’s wrong, Adam?”

  “I don’t feel wel .” Obviously.

  “You’re staying home?” Aaron asked in surprise.

  I rol ed over and pul ed the covers up over my head, closing my eyes. I figured my actions were enough of an answer for them.

  Waking up after one in the afternoon, I got up, went to the bathroom, and then went back to bed. I didn’t sleep. I just lay there on my back, thinking about how much everything in my life sucked. My dad slept most of the day and didn’t get up until after four. He checked on me once, but I refused to talk.

  My door opened again just after five. “Thank you, Mr. James.”

  “Ugh,” I said roughly. It was quiet, so Olivia couldn’t hear it. I didn’t want her over.

  But here she was.

  She walked to my desk and sat down, placing a blue container on top. I looked toward the window. “I made you soup.” I could smel it. Could she be any more perfect? Beautiful, kind, and a maker of soups? I had to stop thinking like that about her. She wasn’t perfect. She was going out with my brother.

  “Wel , I didn’t real y make it. My grandma did. It’s vegetable noodle, though.”

  I turned my eyes to the ceiling.

  “I’m sorry you’re sick.”

  I didn’t say anything. I could hear her drumming her fingers against my desk. The rhythm was soothing. Not wanting to be soothed, I tried to ignore it.

  “Can’t you talk or anything? What is it? Laryngitis?”

  “I can talk,” I answered quickly.

  “Good.” I heard the kindness in her voice.

  I draped my arm over my eyes.

  “Adam, what’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me?

  This whole situation was messed up. I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t want to keep being the same person I always was, or be a pushover who never expressed his feelings when he needed to.

  Sitting up straight and folding my legs, I leveled my eyes at her. “I’m not sick.” God, she looked at me in confusion, and my heart beat faster.

  “What? Then why weren’t you in school?”

  I shrugged my answer, but inside I knew this couldn’t continue. I took a deep breath. “Because I didn’t want to see you and Aaron.” Olivia was quiet for a moment. “See me and Aaron?”

  It was stupid of me to say anything. “Never mind.”

  She scooted the chair closer to the bed and touched her hand to my knee. The confused look gave way to something akin to understanding, but not quite. “You are upset that I’m going to the dance with him.”

  I wanted to say, “Duh,” but I kept it in. No need to seem even more immature than what I was. My only response was to look away.

  “So you’re mad I’m going on a date with your brother. Is it because you don’t think I’m good enough for him, or the other way around?” The question pissed me off. Like she didn’t know! Like I hadn’t been giving her stupid moon-eyes since she got here. “Of course you’re good enough for him. You’re too good for him.”

  “Oh.”

  I looked at her now. She was leaning back in the chair, her arms folded over her torso. Her expression was the same, as if she had an inkling what this was real y about, but no real clue. How could she not know? This was ridiculous. I was being like Casey. I needed to just man up and tel her. “I like you, Livie! Why do you think I spent al that time with you?”

  Olivia’s eyes opened wide. She blinked rapidly and then sat up straight. When she final y spoke, her words were slow in coming. “Because you’re my friend?” She paused, then said, “So you weren’t really my friend? You were just so
me guy that wanted to go out with me? That’s good to know.”

  What? She was making it sound like I was trying to manipulate her or the situation. The way she said it made me sound sleazy.

  Olivia rol ed her eyes as she stood up. “Whatever,” she mumbled.

  “Wait! It wasn’t like that.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at me through narrowed eyes. “What was it like, then?” I felt like I was sweating and felt a bit nauseous, but I had to make her understand. “I’m not a guy who wants to date you. I’m your friend who wants to date you. But now you’re dating my brother.” At that, she looked away, but I could tel that the fire that had ignited within her when she thought I was using her had gone. “I mean, I get it. I do,” I said, my voice revealing the depths of my sadness. “Aaron’s a footbal player. He’s good-looking. He’s fun. And I’m not.”

  She turned back to face me, she flicked her eyes around my face, as if trying to figure out a riddle. Just as it seemed she was about to say something, I said, “I know why you said yes. I understand. But it stil hurts.”

  “Adam,” she said, sounding like she was about to ooze pity out of every pore.

  I stopped her because I doubted whether I could take it. “I know I’m being a baby, but I kind of just want to be alone.” Olivia’s whole body seemed to sag, but she nodded and turned to go. “Okay.” When she got to the door, she turned back and said, “I’m sorry.” She looked toward my drums for a moment and then turned back to me. “That you hurt,” she said.

  I swal owed hard against the lump in my throat and returned. “I am your friend, Liv.” I should’ve said more, but I didn’t. Instead, I watched her turn once more and leave my room.

  I wanted to get up and watch her cross the street, but I couldn’t. Instead, I flopped back down on the bed and drew the covers up.

  I lay there for another few minutes, my mind was racing. Obviously, I was an idiot because I wrongly believed that she was, or could be, interested in me in the first place. It wasn’t like I had any female friends. I couldn’t compare what girl friends acted like with what girlfriends acted like. Olivia hadn’t done anything to indicate that she liked me as more, so what a doof I had been for thinking that I could have had a shot with her.

  Especial y when Aaron liked her, too.

  But I was a double idiot for doing what I’d just done to her. I shouldn’t have told her that I liked her. I should’ve kept it to myself. I could’ve accepted the soup and let her think that I real y was sick.

  I sat up in bed and eyed the blue container. The soup smel ed good. Really good. She’d even brought over a spoon. God, she was thoughtful. I hadn’t eaten anything al day, so I grabbed the container, pul ed off the top, and started devouring it.

  I knew that soup was traditional y what people ate when they were sick, but this must have had special powers to influence moods and emotions because after eating it, not only did I feel warmed inside and out, I also felt better. After placing the empty container on the desk, I flipped off the covers and got out of bed. My body was a bit stiff after lying around al day. I stretched on my way over to the window. Olivia’s bedroom window was dark, but the downstairs glowed with light. They were probably eating dinner.

  I took a deep breath and stood up straight. Al owing them to finish supper would give me enough time to clean up, wash the bowl and spoon, and plan what it was I was going to say.

  An hour later, I stood on the Cartwrights’ porch, fisted hand raised to knock. By the time I’d showered and washed dishes, the light was on in Olivia’s room. The curtains were open, but I couldn’t see her. I’d had a brief cowardly moment where I thought about just texting her, but in my gut I knew what I needed to do. With no more hesitation, I knocked.

  Olivia’s grandfather opened the door. He was a thin man with gray hair. I thought my dad mentioned once that he was in the military a long time ago. Now that I was standing right in front of him, I could see by just his posture that he must have been. His back was straight as a board and even though he was an old man, his shoulders were thrown back, making him a relatively intimidating figure. I was slightly tal er than he was, but he had a much wider—and much stronger—frame than I did.

  Mr. Cartwright said nothing. He just looked at me with his pale blue eyes.

  “Hel o, sir,” I said, sounding every bit as nervous as I felt.

  “Hel o.”

  “Um, is Olivia available?”

  As soon as I said her name his expression softened. “She’s studying.”

  “Oh, wel , I just needed to speak to her for a moment. Could you tel her I’m here?” For a moment, he didn’t say anything, so I said. “Would that be okay?”

  “Sure,” he said, final y cracking a smal , sly grin.

  He didn’t invite me in, so I backed away from the door. I didn’t know if he was expecting me to come in or what, but he cocked an eyebrow like he was surprised I was just going to wait outside. I’d pul ed on my light jacket before walking across the street.

  He gently shut the door.

  After a minute or two, the door opened again and Olivia came out. She was clutching her black hoodie around herself. Her shoulders were raised, like she was trying to protect her neck from the elements.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  I almost chickened out again, but I knew I needed to do this. “So, I’m sorry. About earlier. I am your friend, Livie. I want to be your friend. It wasn’t right of me to act the way I did.”

  She looked down at her purple-fuzzy-slipper-encased feet. “I didn’t know you felt like that, Adam. If I did, I would—” I didn’t want her to feel obligated to say something comforting. She liked Aaron and for the most part I thought I could deal with it. I’d have to if I wanted to maintain a friendship with her. “You don’t have to say anything. Most people like Aaron more than me. It’s okay.”

  “That’s horrible,” she said, her head snapping up. “I know you’ve probably thought that al your life, but it isn’t true. People like you.” That wasn’t what I said, but I wasn’t going to interrupt her.

  “I real y like you, Adam.”

  I gave her a smile, but it was smal and sad. “But you don’t like me as much as you like Aaron.” Her expression, that had become a bit hopeful, fel . “Adam,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay. I understand. I stil want to be your friend.”

  I thought she was just going to placate me or something, but she didn’t. Instead, she punched me in the bicep. “I don’t like him more. It’s just different.” It seemed like her eyes softened, then she said, “It’s not like anyone else asked me to the dance.” I didn’t have a chance to absorb the comment because she shifted her weight. Olivia clutched her jacket closed again. “Now, are you going to be an idiot al night or can we move on?” I chuckled, which seemed to diffuse the situation.

  “I’m glad you came over,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  With a nod, she answered, “Yeah. You’re, like, my only friend here.”

  I could’ve brought up Aaron and al of his crowd that seemed to flock to her, but I didn’t.

  “I’m stil waiting for drum lessons.”

  I was feeling so much better. I opened my mouth to tel her I stil wanted to give her lessons, but the door opened. Mrs. Cartwright appeared.

  “Olivia, it’s too cold for you to be out here.”

  Olivia sighed. It was chil y, but I didn’t think it was too cold. I gave her a look that told her I thought her grandma was nuts. She turned to address Mrs. Cartwright.

  “Just another minute, okay?”

  “Olivia.” Her grandmother’s voice was firm and her gaze was just as rigid. “You know the cold—”

  “Al right!” she said. “I know. I’l be in in a second, okay?”

  As her grandma retreated back into the house after shooting Olivia a very pointed look, I wondered what she was going to tel Olivia about the cold. Whatever it was, Olivia already knew it would
be annoying.

  She rol ed her eyes at me and I laughed. “I guess she likes warm better than cold?” I asked. I wanted to question her more. Things didn’t seem to add up, and the worry that I’d pushed away before was creeping back. I didn’t want to mess anything up now that we were okay again, so I stayed silent.

  She didn’t reply, just shook her head in apparent irritation. “So, are you going to school tomorrow?” I nodded. “And we’re cool now, right?” I nodded again. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” She turned as the curtains from the bay window swayed. Her grandmother was hovering. “I’ve got to go before she flips. I’l see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Tomorrow. Good night.”

  I walked the short walk home feeling better than I had in many days. But the feeling didn’t last long. As soon as I walked in the door, Aaron was waiting for me. I hadn’t even seen his JEEP pul in when I’d been across the street.

  “What were you talking to Olivia about?” he asked as I kicked off my shoes. His tone was undeniably annoyed. It was almost amusing.

  “Nothing,” I replied as I took off my jacket and hung it up.

  “You were talking to her about something.”

  I purposeful y glared at him as I went into the kitchen. He fol owed. I opened the refrigerator and grabbed out the milk, and he leaned against the freezer and stared at me. He was going to do this al night unless I appeased him. I crossed the room, dodging him as I grabbed a glass and poured the milk. “She brought me soup.”

  “She brought you soup?” he asked, his voice a sort of bored exasperation.

  “Yeah.”

  “Because she thought you were sick?”

  I sighed then replaced the milk in the refrigerator. After taking a sip, I trained my eyes directly on my brother’s.

  Raising his left eyebrow and jutting out his jaw, he asked, “Did you tel her that you were just moping? Is that what you were over there talking about?”

  His intensity about the whole thing surprised me. Then it dawned on me. My brother resented that I had been talking to her. “Jealous?” I asked, my tone obviously smug.