Eventually Mac left to find his friends, and I texted Hannah and Tris, I’m exhausted have to go, which was true, and after Dad and I had the loneliest Thanksgiving dinner of our lives, I crawled into bed with Snickers at 9 p.m. and lay awake for hours thinking about all the things I’m grateful for. My health. Dad’s health. Our beautiful, creaky old house that generations of New England families have lived in. Fancy food, clean water, heat, air-conditioning. No one bombing us, no one oppressing us, no one taking away our civil rights. Dad’s job in a city that’s not underwater yet. The jobs I’ll probably have in the future. My good school, where people pay attention to my performance and care about the grades I get. The 14 years I had with my mother, which is less than some people get, but more than other people do. I know I was born on third base.
Friday, November 25
Roy went out to lunch with his parents, so Tris stopped by to say hi. As soon as we were alone in my room, I said, “Did you have fun at the game?”
“Yeah. I almost couldn’t look at Roy, I was so excited to see him.”
“I know the feeling. You’re hanging out with him tonight, right?”
“Oh, actually, I have to text him about what we’re doing.”
I waited until he’d sent the text and was messing around on the internet to say, “Mac and Sienna broke up.”
“Really?”
Tris didn’t even look up from his phone. I smacked it out of his hand (which sounds more dramatic than it was, since we were sitting side by side on my bed and it landed on my pillow).
“Chloe! You made me like AJ Singh’s status by accident!”
“Your fault. You shouldn’t have been stalking AJ Singh.”
“If I unlike it, will he get a notification? We’re not even friends!”
“I’m telling you something important about Mac!”
This time he threw his phone down. “No, you’re not.”
“How can it not be important that he and Sienna broke up?”
“Because it doesn’t change anything. He’s not going to magically turn into your boyfriend.”
“I know that! I don’t want him to be my boyfriend. Obviously. He’s dating, like, five girls at school. He’s a player and he’s not nice and I don’t like him at all anymore.”
Tris looked at me with his eyes narrowed. “OK,” he said finally.
I checked my phone every few minutes after Tris left, but not because I was hoping to hear from Mac, just because I was bored.
Saturday, November 26
It’s almost midnight. I’m not disappointed. It’s fine. It’s more than fine—it’s better this way.
Sunday, November 27
No texts from anyone. Nothing from Mac (obviously). Nothing from Hannah (unusual, but maybe she has lots of church stuff today or something). Nothing from Tris (unprecedented, and I’m almost worried).
Monday, November 28
Oh my God. Roy dumped Tris. No time to write.
Tuesday, November 29
We had to talk yesterday, but of course we were in class, so Tris texted me the whole story, hiding his phone under his desk. I tried to just listen and not interrupt him too much.
I’m so embarrassed
I was so hopeful and excited to see Roy. Ugh ugh ugh
I had a bad feeling so why didn’t I hold back a little? Instead of jumping all over him
Don’t be embarrassed. Of course you were hoping for the best
He seemed fine at the game
He wasn’t
He was barely talking to me
On his phone the whole time
But I was like he hates football, maybe he just doesn’t want to be here
We hung out with his parents that night and being with them made everything seem normal
Like it was last summer
And they were so happy
to see me
It makes me want to cry thinking about them
I’ll probably never see them again and they love me
Like more than my
dad loves me
Maybe you can still see them
Yeah right
So tell me what happened
So that was Thursday
Friday obviously you and I hung out and Roy and I had plans at night but he texted me to say he wasn’t feeling well and had to cancel
And I was kind of like oh no but also telling myself maybe he really was sick
Then Saturday we went out for pizza and it was awful. He was so grouchy and contradicting everything I said
He was bragging about how amazing new york is and saying oh small-town life is so dull, I don’t know how you can stand it, everyone here is so provincial and ignorant
I don’t know why that made me so mad because I agree
But it’s like I’m still trapped here and I have to make the best of it
He was trying to make me feel terrible about my life
So I got quiet and he was like why aren’t you talking, I don’t want to interview you
Ew rude
I know
I wanted to fix the day because
I had this countdown clock
in my head
We only had 24 hours until he left and I couldn’t stand it that we were having such a bad time
I knew I was going to obsess about how awful the weekend was until Christmas
So I forced myself to stop being mad and suggested we go to his house because I knew his parents were out
When we got there I started making out with him
He was just lying there, not even touching me back
So I tried to give him a hand job
But he stopped me
He was like, sorry, I’m in a bad mood today, being back here is bumming me out, I’m not up for messing around
And I was like you’ve been weird all weekend, what’s wrong
And he was like nothing nothing I swear it’s nothing to do with you
And I started crying a little so then he was nice to me and we kissed for real and I left thinking ok maybe everything’s fine
Then Sunday he came to my house first thing in the morning
And it was awkward again
And I was like listen if you want to break up just tell me
I don’t want you to stay with me because you feel obligated
I said do you want to be with me?
And he was like I’m not sure
Oh no
Where were you?
In my living room, so we were whispering
My mom and dad were in the next room and I know they heard everything
Roy had showered and was wearing his going back to NY clothes
These black skinny jeans with rips. I’ve never seen them before
And I was wearing my PJs and looked like a toddler
I’m sure you looked cute
What did he say?
That long distance is hard
That he wants to enjoy college without feeling guilty about not calling me enough
That it’s frustrating to feel tethered to this town when all he wants to do is get away from it
My heart was breaking but it was so confusing
Because he was being way nicer to me during this conversation than he’d been all weekend
And so I was like, so you’re dumping me?
It was humiliating to ask but I had to know for sure if we were just talking about it or if it was happening
And he said I’m so sorry
We both cried
But I think he was forcing himself
He said we’ll always be friends, all that stuff
And then he left and I didn’t eat for the rest of the day
You don’t think I forced him to dump me do you?
If I’d never said anything would we still be together?
You didn’t force him to dump you!
It sounds like he came home meaning to break up but was too scared to do it
I still love him
; I want him to be happy
If he’s not happy being with me, I don’t want him to be with me
Well I’m more worried about you
Did you eat anything today?
Not yet
Meet me at my locker
The bell was ringing, so I met Tris and forced him to eat my emergency Pop-Tart—I keep one in my backpack at all times.
Tris is way sweeter, funnier, more interesting, and better in every way than Roy, but he doesn’t believe me. How can he be so right about my love life and so wrong about his own?
Wednesday, November 30
Tris told me he started crying at the dinner table last night and asked to be excused, and his father told him to “shape up” and “quit acting like a girl.” When Tris was telling me about it, he said “At least he didn’t say anything awful about me and Roy” in a hopeful voice. I wanted to shout about what a bad person his dad is, but he was trying to look on the bright side, so of course I didn’t.
Thursday, December 1
Is it weird that I still listen to Raffi’s Christmas album even though I’m almost old enough to drive?
Friday, December 2
Tris came over for dinner. When he walked in, Dad said, “Hey, buddy,” and Tris started crying. Dad gave him a hug and said, “Chloe told me. It’s tough. There are no two ways about it.”
When Tris felt better, we ordered pizza, and Dad had a beer and talked to us.
“ ‘Puppy love’ is such a stupid phrase,” he said. “There was this girl, Jenny, in high school—man, I was crazy about her. We dated for about two months, but I loved her so much. Far more than I’ve loved most of my adult girlfriends, including women I’ve dated for years and years.”
“Dad!!” I groaned. Why is he constantly forcing me to think about his sex life?
“No, go on,” Tris said.
“I was catatonic when she dumped me. I must have lost 10 pounds.”
“How long did it take you to get over her?” Tris asked, staring at my father like he was gazing into a crystal ball.
“You know, not long, because I met someone else fast. That’s one good thing about dating in your youth: you can feel reasonably certain you’ll find love again. The older you get, the less certain you feel.”
I couldn’t even speak, I was so uncomfortable.
As soon as Tris and I were alone, I apologized. “I’m sorry my dad was saying all that stuff about the divorce and Miss Murphy.”
Tris gave me an odd look. “He didn’t say anything about the divorce or Miss Murphy. Anyway, don’t apologize for him. He’s the best.”
He is, but he still embarrasses the dickens out of me.
Saturday, December 3
Hey Hannah banana. Want to come over?
I’m sorry, I’m just seeing this!
I was over at Reese’s.
At her HOUSE?
Yes. Why?
OMG. What is her house even like?
I don’t know. It’s nice.
What’s her bedroom like? Does she have a canopy and a pink duvet?
It’s just normal.
Hannah, specificity is
the soul of narrative.
That’s a quote from my favorite podcast, which I
was listening to today instead of hanging out
with you
Aw. I miss you! We should definitely hang out after school one day this week.
I’ve read this exchange 10 times, and I can’t tell if she’s lying to me, then irritated with me, then avoiding me and faking niceness, or if she’s being genuinely sweet through the whole thing, like she usually is.
Sunday, December 4
During breakfast, Dad told me he’s planning to ask Miss Murphy over for dinner on Friday night, if that sounds good to me. My Froot Loops were turning to ashes in my mouth, but I said sure.
Monday, December 5
I feel sad about how not-sad I feel about Mom. When I first found out about the divorce, I couldn’t go five minutes without thinking about it. Now I can make it at least a day, sometimes two, before it pops into my mind. It’s not that I want to be depressed about it. But maybe I do. If Mom were living two towns over and I had to stay with her half the week and watch her and Dad talking or not talking or whatever they would be doing while they handed me off, the whole thing would feel more real.
And why hasn’t she emailed me? I don’t care that I haven’t responded to her in weeks. She promised to keep writing to me no matter what.
Tuesday, December 6
Noelle wants to take a driver’s ed course that meets twice a week during lunch—mostly classes, but also some driving practice, once we get our learner’s permits—and she wants me to take it with her. She didn’t ask me what I thought. She just announced that we were doing it. Bossy, confident, in charge: these are the qualities of a popular person. It’s no wonder I’ve been nearly invisible for the duration of my school career.
Wednesday, December 7
Tris looks thin and exhausted. Roy unfollowed him everywhere, which is gratuitously mean. The dumpee should be the one to unfollow, never the dumper.
Thursday, December 8
I’ve seen Reese and Hannah together in the halls four times this week. Hannah always waves to me and calls, “Hi, Chloe!” but she doesn’t break away from Reese to come see me. There’s nothing technically wrong with it, but it still feels like it’s against all the laws of friendship.
Friday, December 9
Miss Murphy is coming over in 16 minutes, or possibly more if she’s running late. I have butterflies, but I can’t tell if they’re butterflies of excitement or fear.
Saturday, December 10
I’m being a baby. Nothing so serious happened. There’s no reason to be catatonic with sadness.
Miss Murphy came over wearing skinny jeans and a fuzzy sweater, neither of which she wears to class. I guess she has a whole weekend wardrobe, which makes sense, although I’d never thought of it before. Of course teachers don’t want to sit around wearing blazers on Saturdays.
She had a Manhattan with Dad, and I had a Shirley Temple, because who cares if they’re supposed to be for six-year-olds? They’re delicious. We stood around the island and talked. Well, Dad and Miss Murphy did. I was so distracted by the overwhelming weirdness of seeing Miss Murphy in my kitchen that I couldn’t speak, other than to answer their questions.
Dad seemed nervous. Miss Murphy seemed fine.
Dinner was pork tenderloin with salad and roasted sweet potatoes. Miss Murphy had brought a small carrot cake for dessert, which Mom would have hated, because she can’t stand walnuts. I only ate two bites, even though it was excellent. I couldn’t betray Mom by eating a whole piece.
On my way back from the bathroom, I saw Dad and Miss Murphy standing in the kitchen, and stopped to spy on them for a minute before they noticed me. Dad must have said something funny, because Miss Murphy was laughing. “I’ll be sure to tell him that,” she said. I had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn’t matter. The point was that their voices had changed. They sounded more real than the voices they use to talk to me. And they were looking at each other with crinkled, happy eyes. They’re in love, I thought.
After Miss Murphy left and the dishes were done, I went upstairs intending to cry, but I couldn’t. Instead I lay on my bed watching the moon sit in the branches outside my window, and felt nothing.
Sunday, December 11
I’d been feeling sorry for Mom, what with all the carrot-cake-eating and eye-crinkling going on around here, but then I checked my email.
Chloe,
I have a favor to ask of you. Would you please take photos of my china, the contents of the bookshelf closest to the window in the living room, the upholstered bench in the foyer, the Le Creuset collection, and the blankets on the top shelf of the linen closet, and email them to me? I may think of more items I need photographed, in which case I’ll email again. Yours in haste,
—Mom
She th
inks if she refuses to acknowledge that I’m ignoring her, I’ll stop. And she thinks I’m going to help her steal the Le Creuset stuff from Dad, when that’s what he uses to make short ribs and casseroles for me. FAT CHANCE, VERONICA.
Monday, December 12
Tris and I are a real barrel of laughs. Lunch today was 23 minutes of therapy, but with two patients and no therapist.
Tuesday, December 13
PSAT scores came out today. I did so well on reading. I did so well on writing. I did so, so horribly on math that my heart almost jumped out of my body when I saw the number.
Wednesday, December 14
Text from Hannah.
What are you doing on Friday night?
Nothing how come?
Would you like to go to the
Bowline with me and Reese?
Uhhhhhhh
Please, Chloe? I think you and she would really like each other.
You’re both important to me, and I want you to be friends.
OK OK fine
Great! I’m so happy!
I’m not promising anything
All I ask is that you give
her a chance.
Yep OK
I know I shouldn’t be so grumpy, but come on! She can’t expect me to be excited about hanging out with the girl who stole my almost-boyfriend and is in the process of stealing my actual best friend.
Thursday, December 15
I nearly bumped into Grady today because we were both looking at our phones while turning a corner. His eyes flickered, and I could tell he was considering walking away without saying anything, but then he said, “Hey.”
The Year of Living Awkwardly Page 9