He moves in too, and our smiling mouths meet.
We stand in the park for I don’t know how long, in the quiet darkness with the trees gathered all around us, telling each other without words how we feel. It’s sweet, and tender, and amazing.
But when we finally end the kiss I press my face into his shoulder and say, “I don’t know how to see the good in things, Sam. I never have. It’s been worse since Brett, way worse, with the revenge and stuff, but I never have.”
He kisses my hair. “Then it’s time you learn.” He eases me back from him and smiles down at me. “Right?”
The happiness in his face, happiness because he and I are together, makes me feel like my insides are dissolving into pure bright light. “You’ll teach me?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he says, leaning in to kiss me again, and I kiss him back and hope he’s strong enough.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“What’s up with you?” Shannon says the second I walk into Becky’s kitchen Sunday night.
Her rude tone sets me back, and I’m surprised at how much because it’s no different from how she usually talks. The more time I spend with MC and Kent and the rest of my new friends from the show seeing how the ‘positive people’ live, the less time I want to spend with Shannon and Becky and their bad attitudes. I’ve had the same attitude, of course, but I don’t want it any more. I hadn’t actually wanted to come over at all tonight, but Becky begged me. “What do you mean?”
“You actually look happy for once in forever. And you’re glowing.” She smacks her hand down on the counter. “You got laid, didn’t you? You banged that Sam. About damn time. How was he?”
“I didn’t bang him.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, make love, whatever.”
“I’m not complaining about the terminology. We didn’t. No matter what you call it, we didn’t.”
“But you did get together, right?”
Becky sounds so hopeful that it surprises me, and I’m glad I can nod without lying.
“Every detail,” Shannon commands. “Is his butt as nice as I thought?”
“I don’t-- look, I don’t want to talk about it.”
They say, “What?” in unison, but their reasons, which they also say in unison, are different.
“If I can’t have him, I want to know what he’s like.”
“I just want to hear a happy story.”
I ignore Shannon. “It just got started last night,” I say to Becky, a smile growing as I remember our kisses at the park and the next two after he took me home and his sweet funny text messages today since he had to work so we couldn’t hang out, “but so far, yeah, it’s happy. Very.”
Becky sighs like she’s been presented with the world’s biggest and most delicious lava cake, and Shannon says, “I’m gonna be sick. Those aren’t the details I want.”
“Well, they’re what you’re getting.”
“You at least gave him a blow job, right?”
I glare at Shannon. “It’s not like that.”
“What, is he gay? Or are you? If you don’t think he’s hot I’ll take him.”
“He’s not a... a piece of pizza to be passed around,” I say, so angry I can hardly speak. “He’s amazing. And you can’t take him because he’s mine.”
“For now,” Shannon mutters.
Becky slaps her arm, harder than I think she meant to.
“What?” Shannon rubs the spot. “Come on, the revenge queen here? You watch, he’ll do something Ashley doesn’t like and she’ll come up with a plan to get him back. Maybe she’ll make him sick like we did to my bitch coworker.”
Becky stares at me. “You guys actually did that? For real? I thought you were just joking.”
Back then I felt proud of it. Now I don’t need the disgust in Becky’s eyes to make me feel disgusted too. “Shannon wanted the revenge,” I say, hearing as I do how whiny and pathetic I sound. “I just provided the method.”
Shannon laughs. “Don’t be modest. Even Randy was impressed by your viciousness, and he’s an ass. And did I want the revenge against that guy at Christmas? Or the guy from the plane? Or that stupid show? Or--”
“Shut up!”
Becky and I stare at each other. We both shouted at the same time. I know why I did, because hearing all my horribleness at once is making me feel sicker than I did while kissing Aaron, but before I can try to guess what’s bothering Becky she says, “Seriously, both of you, shut up. I used to like you, I used to think we were good together, but you’re both awful people. You just are.”
I’m too shocked to speak, but Shannon says, “What the hell? You’re no better than we are, missy.”
“I’m trying to be,” she screams. “I’ve been trying so hard and nobody notices. You just call me big fat Becks and bitch at each other and act like the whole world’s against you and I am done. No more. Both of you get out.”
Shannon takes a step forward, then another, until she’s right in Becky’s face. “Say that again.”
Becky, for the first time ever, doesn’t back down. “No.” She puts her hands on her hips, and I notice a hint of muscle definition she’s never had before in her upper arms. “No,” she says again. Her voice is shaking but she’s not letting Shannon weaken her. “I don’t have to. You heard me. I can’t cope with you guys any more. Go away. And don’t come back.”
I feel like I should say something, but I can’t think of a thing. I’m seeing myself through Becky’s eyes, and I don’t like it. She’s right to kick us out. We’re not good for her. Or for each other.
I pick up my purse and walk out. For a moment I think Shannon’s not following me but then she appears behind me on the sidewalk. “Holy shit. What got into her?”
I shrug.
She rubs her hands together. “So. What’s the plan?”
“Guess I’ll go home.”
She elbows me. “No, stupid. I mean to get back at her. We can’t let her treat us like that.”
I stare at her. “What are you suggesting? That we do something bad to Becky?”
She shrugs, clearly imitating me. “She did something bad to us.”
Her voice sounds like this just makes sense, and I’m horrified because I’ve said and thought exactly that and back then it did make sense but now it sounds so ridiculous. “But she’s our friend!”
“She was. Anyone who tells me to go away and not come back ain’t my friend.” Her eyes light up. “We could post that picture of her in a bathing suit from last summer all over town. She’d hate that.”
Though I can’t possibly still be sick from last night’s drinking, my stomach churns like I am. Becky was devastated when Shannon showed her that picture of her next to Brett, not a surprise since my cousin’s perfectly toned body only made Becky look fatter. Posting that would destroy her.
That Shannon would suggest it is bad enough. That I’m quite sure I would have agreed with her a few weeks ago is what’s really making me sick.
What’s happened to me? How did I go from being into pranks with a hint of revenge in high school to being willing to ruin people’s lives, to literally poison them, just to get back at them?
“Not a chance,” I say. “We’re not posting that. That’s horrible.”
She laughs. “It sure was. Big fat Becks. Like a great white whale.”
I step forward involuntarily, but manage to stop myself just before I punch her in the stomach.
Her eyes widen and she takes a step away, then moves in on me. “You wanna fight, Ashcan? I can take you.”
I know she can’t. I’m not as fit as I was before the show but I’m still far stronger than she is. But that’s not the point. Though every bit of my mind is screaming, “Take her out, punish her,” I back up one step, then another. I’m not going to be this person any more. I’m just not. Sam sees me as something more and I’m going to live up to that. “No. I’m going home.”
“Wuss,” she snaps. “Loser. Wimp. All your revenge crap and
you don’t have the guts to fight me?”
I turn to walk away.
“That’s right,” she says, sneers really. “Spineless loser. Without Brett you’re nothing. He was the only one with any guts. You’re pathetic.”
I turn back before I mean to, and realize my hands have clenched into fists at my side.
“There’s good ol’ Angry Ashley,” she says. “Without her you’re a wimp like Becky. I knew I could get her back out of you. So, what are we gonna do?”
I stare at her. She wants to bring the worst out of me.
Sam, and MC and Kent and all the others, see a level of good I didn’t know I could have.
I turn and walk away, and though she shouts insults at me I don’t turn back.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I feel strange in the gym in my street clothes, but that feeling passes as I watch Sam do his warmup on Thursday night. I can’t imagine he’ll actually make his goal, but through all his hard work he has gotten himself to 1.5 times his body weight so maybe he can make a final leap and get there. I know how much he wants it, so I want it for him.
For my boyfriend.
We’ve been hanging out together every chance we get, kissing and hugging and just sitting silently in each other’s arms, and today at dinner when I wanted another cup of coffee he waved the waiter over and said, “Could my girlfriend get a refill?” and I was so happy I barely heard the guy’s reply. Sam turned to me when the waiter left and started to ask if I minded, but I kissed him instead so I think he knows I don’t. At all.
Not even close. These last few days have been the best I’ve ever had. I’m still furious with Will when I let myself think about him, but I’ve hardly got any time for that because of Sam. I haven’t placed a single phone call, or done any Internet searches, and I’m not going to because there’s no point. I get that now. And after dinner when someone cut me off in the parking lot I didn’t even honk at him never mind yell or give him the finger. Sam’s changing me, and I think I like it.
But I hate the idea of how unhappy he’ll be if he fails tonight, and also how Eric and Hugh will mock him, and I’m starting to feel like that second coffee was a mistake because my heart’s racing even more than it would have been otherwise.
Sam finishes his warmup and looks over at me, and I smile, doing my best to send him ‘I know you can do it’ vibes even though I’m not sure he can. He smiles back, and we stand smiling at each other for a second before Billy clears his throat and says, “Ready for a bit of weight?”
Sam winks at me then turns to Billy and nods, and all of the gym staff and most of the exercisers wander over to watch as he does some lightly weighted squats as a more specific preparation.
“This is a one-rep thing, right?” I hear someone say.
“Yup,” Sam says, setting the bar back on the rack with ease. “One time down and up. No biggie.”
Except that it is a biggie, because he cares so deeply about it and has worked so hard to make it happen.
Hugh comes over, with a smug expression I want to slap off his face. Sam has to succeed. If he does, he’ll be lifting more than Eric or Hugh could do, and they’d hate that. He just has to.
To make it official, Billy weighs Sam. “One hundred and eighty-six pounds,” he says, then loads the bar with exactly that on each side. A total of three hundred and seventy-two pounds. It looks huge, like something a cartoon character would try to lift and then get squashed flat by, and I can’t breathe.
Sam steps to the bar and gets it settled on his shoulders, then takes several deep breaths in and out. On his next inhale, he sinks smoothly down and back until his thighs are parallel to the ground.
My hands clenched, I watch in silence as the others cheer him on for the hardest part, getting back up again.
He blows out his air, hard, and pushes upward, but after moving only a few inches he freezes.
“Come on,” Billy mutters. “Give it everything you’ve got.”
Sam shuts his eyes and I see the muscles in his legs straining, but he still can’t make anything happen. So much effort, but nothing. Like me chasing Will. Even though I’ve decided to give up on that, my failure and the fact that he’ll get away with what he did still bothers me, and it bothers me more now that I’m watching Sam fail too.
“Take off a plate,” Sam says through gritted teeth. “Each side.”
My heart sinks as he admits defeat, but I’m also in awe that he’s not just giving up. In front of his enemies. Where is he getting that strength?
Billy and one of the other guys rush to pull off a fifteen-pound plate each. Sam still can’t move, but once they’ve each taken away another fifteen pounds he gives a grunt of pure rage and pushes himself upright again.
I bite my lip, feeling tears rising for him, as Billy helps him get the bar on the rack then slaps him on the back. “Good try, man, real good try. That’s more than you’ve done since you got hurt. More than ever, actually, right?”
“Yeah,” Sam says, shaking out his legs. “I suppose.”
He sounds so despondent, though, and the other people begin drifting away, no doubt feeling as I do that they have no idea how to help. Hugh pulls out his phone as he leaves, and I know he’s probably going to text Eric about Sam’s failure and that infuriates me. I want to go after him and shut him down to protect Sam, but I know Billy will fire me if I do and that makes me even more upset. I can’t win.
In moments, only Sam and Billy and I are left in the squat area. “I’m sorry,” Billy says, again slapping Sam’s back. “I know. Sucks. You’ll get it, though. And happy birthday.”
Sam makes a sound that might have been supposed to be a laugh. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Billy glances at me and mouths, “Take care of him.”
I nod, though I have no idea how to do that without stomping on Hugh, and he smiles and walks away, leaving me with Sam.
“I’m sorry too,” I say, trying to hide my rage. “I know you wanted it.”
Sam sighs. “Thanks. I guess I’ll aim for my next birthday.”
The pain in his voice hurts me so much that frustration floods me in a quick furious burst and combines with my anger to overwhelm me in an instant. “See, that’s why goals suck,” I say, letting it all pour out of me. “There’s no damn point. I had one with the videos, you had this, we both failed, and now everything sucks and people are laughing at us. Failure’s horrible.”
Sam turns on me, slowly because of his poor legs but no less passionately for that. “You didn’t fail with the videos! You got them out there, got people watching--”
“And got screwed over by Videvideoo. They lied to me and screwed me over. Everyone does. Every damn one.” I grab his hand, desperate to make him understand. I can’t stand to see him hurting. “And Hugh’s laughing at you, like Will is at me, and Eric will be too. We have to get them back. We can’t let them win.”
He pulls his hand away. “You’re still... Look, I don’t care what Hugh does. Or Eric. They know I did better than anyone could have expected, and--”
“That’s not enough. They’re off having fun at your expense and we have to stop them. We have to--”
“To what? Get revenge?”
He puts such fury and disgust behind the word, and it makes me even angrier. How can he not get this? How can he be okay with them knowing he failed and laughing at him for it?
“Yes! Like I told you before, everyone’s out for themselves. We have to be too. You have to get them back and I have to get Will back and--”
“I can’t do this,” he says, and though his words are quiet they’re full of passion and they scare me even before he goes on with, “I like you, Ashley, I like you a lot, but I can’t do this any more. I thought you were done with this, I thought you wanted to be done with it, but I was wrong and I can’t handle it. Look, you have to let it all go. Will, Hugh and Eric, Brett, your parents, you have to--”
I can’t let my parents go. They’re gone, and have been for decades. What
the hell is he saying? “Letting it go just lets them win,” I shout, not caring that heads turn all around the gym. “Hugh and Eric and everyone else who’s hurt you. And all the people who’ve hurt me. All the assholes win! And you’re an idiot if you can’t see that.”
“Then I guess I’m an idiot.” He swallows hard and looks at me with exhausted misery in his eyes. “And I guess we’re done here.”
I stare at him, realizing what he’s saying. We are done. For an instant my heart cracks open, then a shell of ferocious rage seals it safely inside me again. “I guess so, since everybody leaves me,” I hiss at him.
He shuts his eyes, and I turn and run.
Chapter Thirty
After twenty-four of the worst hours of my life, I’m walking around downtown Portland in a daze.
I’ve lost Sam. I’ve lost all my friends, old and new since they won’t take my side over him. And as of an hour ago I’ve lost my job too.
Billy was clearly uncomfortable firing me but he also clearly wasn’t going to change his mind. “I can’t have you shouting like that in the gym, Ashley, and besides I can’t have you working with Hugh or Eric or Sam now so there’s nowhere to put you. I’m sorry.”
“Sam wanted you to fire me?” The thought of that hurt more than I could have imagined.
“No,” he said quickly, “he begged me to keep you, actually. But I can’t. Take care, Ashley. And maybe get some help?”
I hung up without a reply, but his words are still echoing in my ears. Where am I supposed to get help, exactly, when everyone walks away from me?
Dory crosses my mind but I push her out. Not a chance. She hasn’t been any help this whole time, so why would anything be different now?
It wouldn’t. I’m beyond help.
Though I stormed out of my apartment after being fired and I’ve been walking without a plan, some part of me clearly has one because I look up now and realize I’m at the Videvideoo office again. There’s the same notice on the door explaining that they’ve closed and giving an email address for contact.
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