Pictures of You

by Juliette Caron

  “Adrien,” I said, my heart galloping, my cheeks burning. What have I done? How much did he see? All of it? “Adrien, I…” He shook his head in disgust and turned to go. “Wait, let me explain.”

  “No, I think I got it,” he said, his eyes throwing darts into my heart.

  “Wait, you’re Adrien?” Chris said, standing up, knocking over a glass of water. Mom stood and began dabbing it with her cloth napkin. Adrien stopped mid-step and turned around. “You’re the jerk who’s breaking September’s heart?”

  “And who are you?” Adrien asked, appearing confused.

  “I’m the one who really loves September.” Chris threw down his napkin and took several steps in Adrien’s direction. Adrien stiffened. His face was stony. It was strange, seeing this side of the two boys I loved. Both were typically so gentle and kind. Even docile. It was like seeing a trusted pet attack, suddenly and out of nowhere.

  The room hummed with soft murmurs. Water streamed across the gold tablecloth. Some of it dribbled onto my lap.

  Chris continued, “I’m the one who’s man enough to stick around.”

  Adrien laughed. “So you love her, too? Wait, are you Chris?” He’d put two and two together. “Ah. I’ve heard a lot about you. You might find it useful to know that I won—September picked me.”

  Chris shook his head, repulsed. “If anyone deserves a girl like September, it sure as hell isn’t you,” he said, his fists balling up. “You have no idea what you’ve put her through these past couple of weeks. No idea. You’re a—you’re a selfish coward.”

  “No, Chris!” I squawked. I watched in horror as Chris took a swing at Adrien’s face, knocking him into the antique china cabinet. I heard a chorus of gasps and John laughing, apparently amused by two guys literally fighting over me.

  Adrien, defeated, laughed a humorless laugh. “I deserved that…You’re right,” he said, speaking to Chris, cradling his cheekbone. “You’re so right. I’m sorry, September.” His gaze rested on me, sadness in his eyes. “I really shouldn’t be here.”

  “Adrien, wait!” I left my food and the spilled water and my family in confusion and ran after him. And I left Chris. I knew it would hurt him. But I couldn’t think about that right now.

  I thought I’d lost Adrien once and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.

  “September, I think you owe us an explanation,” I heard my father say as I shut the front door behind me.

  “Adrien, please. Wait,” I said as he unlocked his car. “Please, just let me explain.”

  “You don’t need to explain. I get it,” he said, refusing to look at me. He was hurt. I could see it all over his face. He was really hurt.

  “No, you’ve got it all wrong,” I said. “Please. Let’s talk.”

  31

  “Please,” I begged, trying unsuccessfully to open the passenger door. “Don’t leave. Please, just let me explain.”

  He dropped his head in defeat and then unlocked the door so I could climb in.

  “If that’s what you want, September.” The way he said it—without even a trace of hope in his voice—frightened me. Despite the mild weather, an arctic chill traveled up and down my spine. Suddenly I realized this was more than about the mix up with Chris. His words from earlier resurfaced: “There’s something I have to tell you, September.” And, “Tomorrow night, you’re going to leave me.”

  What was he finally going to tell me? The big secret. So big it had to wait until after my parents’ party. So big, he was certain I was going to leave him—after all we’ve been through together.

  “You okay?” he said, resting his hand on my knee. “You don’t look—”

  “That kiss? That was nothing,” was all I could muster up. I’m an idiot. What was I thinking? Letting Chris kiss me like that. Kissing him back—when I knew Adrien would come back at any moment? How could I hurt him like that? Of course the answer was screaming over and over in my head—and in my heart—but I refused to let myself think it. I refused to let myself feel it. “It was nothing,” I repeated lamely.

  He laughed. “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  “I told Chris you weren’t going to make it—to the party. That’s before you…well, I never got around to telling him you’d be my date. He knew all about John and April and he felt really bad for me. He wanted to help me out. I didn’t know he’d come. I swear I didn’t expect him to kiss me. He has a girlfriend.” I bit my lip, realizing I’d lied. Just before the kiss Chris revealed he’d broken up with Megan.

  Chris had broken up with Megan. Wow, this was just getting more and more complicated.

  “He won’t have a girlfriend for long. I saw the way he kissed you.” His expression hinted of jealousy.

  I looked down at my hands in my lap. “Yeah, I guess he has a thing for me. I sort of overlooked that.”

  His lips curled. “A thing would be putting it lightly. And I don’t blame the guy. You’re quite the catch. What guy wouldn’t want to be with you?”

  “I could name a few,” I said, John being the first to come to mind. I laughed nervously. “He’s just my good friend. I want you, Adrien. I love you.” I had to use all my self-control to keep myself from climbing into his lap and latching onto him—refusing to ever let go.

  He chuckled bitterly. “You won’t feel that way after…” He turned to me, his eyes piercing mine with so much intensity, it made me shudder. “I want…You should be with Chris. It’s plain he really loves you.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A wave of panic and hurt crashed over me, enveloping me. “Don’t…you…love me?”

  “I do love you. Believe me.” He touched my hand for emphasis. “I love you desperately. But how I feel and what I want doesn’t matter. You’ll be happier with Chris—trust me. You deserve a good man.”

  “I don’t want Chris—I want you.”

  “I saw the way you kissed him,” he said, pulling his hand away from mine, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

  My cheeks burned. His intruding stare wasn’t helping things. It was true. I did kiss him back. Why had I kissed him back? “I’m sorry,” I whispered, dropping my hand and forcing myself to look him in the eye.

  “Please be honest with me,” he said, searching my face so intently, it made me feel naked. “Are you in love with him?”

  I bit my lip. “No. I’m in love with you.”

  He smiled a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Come on. I’m not buying it.”

  I swallowed twice before I said, “I guess I might have some feelings for him. But they pale in comparison to how I feel about you.”

  Adrien laughed. “Of course I’m jealous. But I have no right to be.”

  Surprised, I said, “What does that mean?”

  “It’s time you learned the truth. I owe you that. What you do with it is up to you. I promise you that you can choose…without feeling any worry or guilt,” he said, gently brushing my knee. “I’m not going to hurt myself when you—if you choose to leave me. I promise.”

  I opened my mouth but I felt too sick to speak. I thought I’d lost him once. Now those feelings saturated my whole body all over again. I was so exhausted I was tempted to become a hermit and live in a cave. Never risk loving and losing anyone—ever again.

  He continued, “First let me say that I care about you more than anything. I’m crazy in love with you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.” He ran a finger down the side of my face, making me almost liquefy into my seat. Why did he have such an effect on me? It’s not like I haven’t been touched by other guys. But with Adrien…something was different.

  I braced myself, waiting for the inevitable but. I winced as he said it. “But I can’t lie to you anymore. I owe you the truth. Even though I know it will destroy what I treasure most—you and me—us.”

  My mind began running a marathon a minute. He already shared what I thought was his darkest secret: that he’d—by accident—killed his sister. What could it p
ossibly be now? Was he a teen father? A priest sworn to a lifetime of celibacy? A member of the mafia?

  “Go on,” I said, almost inaudibly, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping to somehow protect myself from the truth—whatever it was.

  Adrien took a long, shaky breath. “I…”

  “Come on, you can tell me anything,” I said, touching his arm.

  “I…killed someone.”

  I laughed nervously. “You mean your sister, right?”

  “Yes, but also…someone else. Someone…very special…to you.” He grabbed my hand. I felt him trembling. I searched his green eyes and saw pain so intense, it hurt me to look at them. He opened his mouth, struggling to form the words. “I…killed…Abby.”

  “What?” I yanked my hand away, like a kid who touched a hot stove. After it sunk in for a moment, I started laughing.

  He looked at me like I was nuts.

  Surely he was joking. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

  “I killed her, September,” he repeated, his voice cracking.

  “What?” This wasn’t funny. Who’d joke about something like that?

  “Don’t make me say it again,” he whispered, his face gnarled in pain.

  “You…? You killed her? It was you?” He nodded.

  It took me several seconds to digest his words. Or maybe it was minutes. Time was a blur at that point. We sat in silence, listening to a neighbor’s cat make strange hollering noises.

  And then it really hit me, like a skyscraper tumbling down, crushing me.

  “No!” I said. “No!”

  “I killed her. I killed her.” He was crying now.

  I threw my arms around my head, shielding myself from his words.

  “I’m so sorry. So sorry,” he said, acting unsure whether to reach for me or pull farther away.

  “It was you?” I echoed, too stunned to say anything else. I was confused. Really, really confused. It was too much for my tired brain to process.

  “It was me,” he said, resignation in his voice.

  We sat saying nothing as a whisper soft rain began to fall. It was not a surprise. Moody storm clouds loomed above us all day. The rain quickly intensified. We listened to the drumming noises it made falling onto the car, falling onto rooftops, falling onto trash can lids. The sound was strangely soothing. We watched it collect on the windshield and wash it clean. Only a stubborn spider remained. It struggled for some time to keep its ground, fighting for its life. We watched it intently. The stream of water kept pulling it down. Tenacious, the spider would manage to climb back up. Finally it lost its strength. It gave up. The water washed it away.

  There was a second wave, an aftershock. It felt like someone had knocked all the air out of me. I struggled to breathe. Every muscle in my body tightened like an angry fist. Dinner seemed to be inching up my throat, little by little. And then I opened the car door and spewed everything on my parents’ curb. A panic attack. I was having a panic attack. The first one in months.

  I began weeping and rocking in my seat, making a sound so strange, so wild animal-like, I didn’t realize it was me at first. Hesitantly, Adrien reached out to touch my shoulder, trying to comfort me. I pulled away.

  How could this happen? Was this a sick joke? How could I meet and fall in love with the boy who killed Abby? I must be dreaming. This can’t be real.

  Adrien sat helplessly, waiting for me to calm down. “Horrible isn’t a strong enough word to describe how I feel,” he whispered, his face pain stricken.

  Finally, after several minutes, I calmed down enough to say, “When did you—? How long did you—?”

  “I figured it out that day I made you and Mary waffles,” he said, reaching for me and flinching when I pulled away.

  “And you didn’t say anything? You just let me fall in love with you?”

  “I swear I didn’t know that would happen. I didn’t know we’d become so close. I wanted to tell you, believe me. But I was scared. I didn’t want to hurt you—more than I already had.”

  “Then why now?”

  “Because before, when I was going to kill myself, I knew the secret would be buried with me. But things have changed…I can’t keep lying to you, September. You deserve to know the truth.”

  “How did it happen? And why did you just…” I squeezed my eyes shut, “leave us there? Leave Abby to die?”

  The muscles in his jaw tightened. “I’d just found out my father had cancer. They sent him home, giving him four to six months to live. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in years. He hasn’t spoken to me much since the divorce. He never truly forgave me for what I did to my sister…

  “You have to understand I was in turmoil. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I finally gathered up the nerve to visit him. Whether he wanted to see me or not, I had to say goodbye. I thought about flying over, but I needed time to think about what I was going to say to him. I chose to drive, a decision that would change the rest of my life…and the lives of many others. At the time my car was in the shop. Mike, my boss, lent me an old van.”

  I clutched my mouth. The ugly brown van. In my mind I saw it flying across the freeway, crushing us.

  “I was so exhausted. The depression, the anxiety, the lack of sleep. They all added up. I fell asleep at the wheel. I must have been out for only a few seconds. Before I knew it, I was hitting a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. I watched in horror as it flew off the freeway, turning over and over before hitting the ground. I saw something green fly out of the window.” Abby’s scarf, I thought. “I knew—there was not a doubt in my mind—I’d killed the occupants. There was no way, I thought, they could survive that.

  “I panicked, September. I don’t know what happened to me. I’d like to think of myself as an honorable person. The kind of person who does the right thing. A good person. But then it all came back to me—the day I killed my sister. I watched in horror as the fire consumed my bedroom. I saw my sister’s face. I saw her tiny body being taken away on the stretcher.” He sobbed. “I saw her charred feet peeking out of the blanket. Those perfect little feet…I couldn’t think straight. I just stepped on the gas and took off. Initially, it wasn’t the consequences I’d have to face that made me flee. I just…lost all common sense. I was that seven-year-old kid again, hiding in the bushes, spinning the wheels of my toy truck.

  “I never made it to Vegas. The pain was too intense. Depression paralyzed me. I thought about turning myself in at least a dozen times. I knew there was a very good chance I’d go to jail. Maybe even prison. But I couldn’t bear to face the families I’d hurt. Not face to face anyway. I did go to Abby’s funeral—”

  I laughed, because sometimes that’s all you can do. “Wait, you were at the funeral?”

  “I wanted to see what I’d done. Whose life I’d destroyed. I found an article about the accident online. I was relieved there was a survivor. Two deaths on my head are better than three, I suppose. Then I found Abby’s obituary.”

  It clicked then. I saw him there. I saw Adrien at the funeral. He was the hot guy. “Did you see me there? At the funeral?”

  “No. I don’t think I did. And I swear I had no idea Abby was your friend. Not until Mary said something that day I made waffles. It was all just a terrible coincidence. A sick, sick coincidence.

  “Going to the funeral only made me feel worse, which I guess was the point. I was punishing myself. But after getting to know Abby at the funeral, I realized I’d killed an angel. Maybe I was hoping she was a dirtbag or something. But, man. I killed this amazing person. So I figured I’d take matters in my own hands…punish myself. Give myself the death sentence. This way no one else could get hurt. I wouldn’t be able to destroy any more lives…

  “I had it all planned out. I was going to leave the perfect suicide note, placing no blame on the ones I’d leave behind. I was relieved, to be honest,” he said, laughing through his tears. “I was almost happy for the first time in thirteen years. It just seemed like the perfect solution. But then I met you. At
first I just thought of you as a pleasant distraction. A friend to kill time with. Someone to help me not think about what I’d planned to do. What I felt I had to do. But I screwed up. I started falling for you right away. And then I learned about your accident, about Abby being your friend. I knew right away, right as you described the accident.

  “You probably remember, after you’d told me about the accident and I put two and two together, I left your apartment. Quite abruptly,” he adds, laughing. “Never to return—or so I thought at the time. I went straight home, stunned. I thought about doing it right then and there. I had the gun in my hand. I had it pinned right under my chin. I was ready. I couldn’t take any more pain. But then, in my mind, I saw your face. I saw you smiling at me. And I wanted to somehow make amends. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it. How it was even possible. But I figured if you knew who killed Abby it’d give you a sense of closure…” he shook his head in disgust. “I meant to tell you, but it was never the right time. I didn’t want to ruin your first solo exhibit, your birthday. And all the while, I was falling deeper and deeper in love with you.”

  I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but I couldn’t find the words. I was so confused. More confused than I’d ever been. Drowning in a bottomless lake of confusion.

  “I’m so sorry, September. I could say it to you a million times and still, it wouldn’t take the pain away. It wouldn’t bring Abby back. It wouldn’t change anything and that’s why you and I would never work.”

  “I…” I said. Words jumbled inside my mind. Conflicting feelings. But there was nothing to say. Nothing I could say. After all, Adrien had killed the one person who meant everything to me. “I don’t—”

  A knock on the passenger window startled us both. Chris’s concerned face filled my view, his image warped through rain streaked glass. He spoke, his voice muffled by the patter of rain. “Tember, we need to talk.”

  I looked over at Adrien, still in a daze. His tears had dried, but his knuckles grew milk white, curled around the steering wheel. “Go to him,” he whispered, his face smooth, void of emotion. “After everything you’ve told me about him…He seems like a really good guy.” He laughed bitterly. “He’ll make you a hundred times happier than I ever could.” He gently nudged me. “It’s okay, I swear. I’ll be okay.”