by Ginger Scott
“It’s okay. Mine wasn’t one of the remarkable ones. I mean, it was to me of course, but not the rest of the world.”
I reach into my bottom drawer and grab the photos I hid there the other day, then join Cass on her bed. Just as I did with Nate, I recant the basics—mental illness, man with a gun, our cafeteria, Josh and Betsy.
“This is Josh and me at the winter formal,” I say, showing her my favorite picture of the both of us. I like this one because we look so much older than 16. Maybe I like pretending we got to grow up together after all.
I have fewer pictures of Betsy, but I show her the few I’ve kept. Betsy was my other half, the girl who really knew me. We met in kindergarten and were inseparable ever since.
“So Betsy didn’t make it?” Cass asks, handing the small stack of photographs back to me. I shake my head no and look down at them in my lap—all that’s left of the two most important people in my life summed up in seven pictures.
“Wow. Well that’s…” she pauses for a few seconds, bobbing her head side to side while thinking of the perfect word. “Sucky. That’s just sucky.”
Her choice makes me laugh, and laugh hard. Because yeah, it is sucky, and that’s really the only perfect word there is for my story. “Oh my god, it is soooooo sucky!” I say, putting on a Valley-Girl tone. Mocking my own tragedy feels good, and I wish I had done it sooner.
“Riiiight? I mean, like, oh my god, what a lame way to start your summer!” Cass is speaking Valley Girl with me, and I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts.
“Totes!” I say back to her in between laughs. We’re rolling on our backs, tears falling from the creases of our eyes when Paige comes in.
“Oh my god, so like, Paige, do you totally want to hear my sucky story?” I say, barely able to finish my sentence, I’m laughing so hard.
“Uhm, I guess?” Paige says, moving to the closet to hang her sweater on the hook on the back of the door.
“Like, when I was sixteen, this guy came to my school and shot my boyfriend and best friend. I mean, right? Who does that?” Cass is holding her stomach she’s laughing so hard, her face turning red, and I’m almost gurgling in between my speech.
Paige steps out from the closet, her eyes wide and centered on me; I realize she’s not really in on the same joke Cass and I are, and then I realize that yeah, I’m probably being really insensitive and maybe a little bit crazy right now. But I don’t fucking care.
“Rowe, if you’re making this up, I swear to god I will smack you. That’s not nice, and it isn’t funny,” she says, her hand on her hip, which only makes my laugh break through again.
“Oh, Paige. If only this were a joke,” I say, my tears half from laughing and half from the truth, and the escape feels euphoric.
Once I calmed myself down, I shared the photos with Paige, too. She was a lot more serious in her response than Cass, more like my parents and others from my hometown. She was sympathetic and kind, but I think I kind of liked Cass’s response better. I need more people to treat me like that—normal.
Paige told us she was moving out next week to the Delta house, and I could tell Cass was happy about that. I think she relished the idea of not being a twin for a while, not that there was anything remotely similar about her and her sister. Surprisingly, though, Paige’s departure made me feel a little sad. She was more than her appearances, and I felt like I was just getting to know the real her.
Paige left in the late afternoon for a date—apparently she moved on quickly from her crush on Nate to a member of the football team. For the last hour, I’ve been sitting still, watching Cass try on outfits for the dinner I was half-invited to, and when Cass realizes I’m not getting ready, she questions me.
“Are you just going like that?” She motions to my shorts and plain blue tank top.
“I’m not sure Nate really wants me to go. He was sort of…I don’t know, weird about it,” I say.
“Hmmmm,” Cass says, reaching for my hand to pull me up to a stand in front of her. When I’m fully up, she slings my arm forward, pushing me toward my clothes in the closet and slapping my butt while I pass by. “Here’s the deal. I don’t know what you mean by weird, but Nate had about a two-hour prep conversation with Ty and me the other day trying to get up the balls to ask you to dinner. So if you don’t show up, we’re going to feel like failures. Now put something pretty on, and hurry, we’re late.”
I love Cass. It’s decided; she is now my best friend.
Chapter 15
Nate
Usually a really hard workout helps me get rid of the desire to punch something, but not this time. It’s still here, a sense of balled up energy stemming from my bicep and rolling all the way through my fist. I don’t know why I care so much and so fast, but I do.
When Rowe said she didn’t think I’d ever meet her parents, it was like an emotional car wreck went off in my chest. It was a nothing statement to her, but to me it had been so damned significant.
I’m just not that guy, the guy who keeps things in compartments and satisfies urges and doesn’t get them tangled with the rest of the shit going on in his heart and his head. I tried being that guy for a few months, and it sucked. I felt like an asshole. I was an asshole. My tour through the world of asshole-ness was brief—nope, not for me.
“Rowe coming?” Ty asks, holding his arm out for me to button the cuffs on his shirt. We always dress up for Sunday dinner with my parents. My mom always insisted on it when we were kids and at home, and it just sort of became the tradition—even if we’re dining out.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” I say, not lifting my eyes to meet his and just focusing on the button in front of me. There’s a soft knock on the door behind me, and her voice soon follows.
“Okay to come in?” Rowe asks, her words pushing the corner of my lips up into a smile against my wishes.
“Don’t care my ass,” Ty whispers, leaning forward. “Rowe, I know this probably isn’t appropriate, but damn girl. You look hot!”
Her giggle pushes my lips up the rest of the way. I haven’t turned to see her yet, and part of me wants to put it off, knowing it will do me in completely. I finish the last few buttons on my own shirt, a plain white fitted one that I leave un-tucked, and then turn to see if my brother’s right.
This is how a girl steals your heart. Rowe’s hair is down in waves, the front swept to the side with a tiny braid holding it in place. Everything about her face is simple and plain—absolutely kissable. She’s wearing a long black dress with black flat sandals that somehow still make her look like she’s six-foot-seven thanks to the slit along the side of her leg showing off what is quickly becoming my favorite part of her body. I’m inching closer to her without even realizing it, and when I reach her, I touch the tips of my fingers to her chin and turn her face so I can kiss her cheek. “May I?”
She only nods; her eyes looking away and her shyness making her face burn red. I tuck her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers indulge in a slight graze along her shoulder, coming to rest along her neck. When my lips meet her cheek I’m instantly charged with a need to kiss her more, but I don’t. I wouldn’t, unless she gave me permission.
“Ty’s right,” I smile. “You look hot.”
“Well, you’re just used to the ideal woman because of your new Barbie obsession. You’re just projecting,” she jokes, and I can tell it’s because she’s uncomfortable with the attention.
“Yeah, well, you can turn her head completely around on her body, so that’s kinda hard to top,” I say, trying to set her at ease again.
“Oh, mine does that too,” she winks. Yeah, heart…stolen.
My parents meet us at the only semi-nice restaurant near campus. My mom says it’s not a fancy dinner unless the place serves you bread before you eat, so she always insists on places like this. It’s a steakhouse called Morgan’s, and I’m just excited my parents are picking up the bill.
“Rowe, Cass, so glad you both could join us,” my mom says, reach
ing around to hug both of the girls. I pull out Rowe’s seat next to me, and she slides in, her fingers gripping at the side of her dress.
“So, Cass. Ty tells us you’re studying physical education? Do you hope to teach?” my dad asks. I notice Rowe’s hands flex and tighten even more as Cass responds to my dad’s question. She’s waiting for the question to come to her next, and she’s worried because she doesn’t have an answer. We’re also sitting in the middle of the restaurant, and I can see her eyes darting from side to side, sneaking in glances at her surroundings. Without even thinking, I slide my hand to her leg and reach for her fingers. She startles at first, and I give her the tiniest shrug, hoping she’ll use me for strength—just for tonight. Her hand moves to mine, and soon she’s holding my hand tightly.
“I’d like to get into rehab work,” Cass finishes explaining. I watch as my mom looks over to Ty, nodding and smiling with her approval. Ty rolls his eyes, but I know he likes Cass a lot.
“How about you, Rowe? What are you studying?” my dad asks, and I feel her grip somehow get even tighter. You’d never know the exertion happening under the tablecloth by the look of complete calmness Rowe is showing up above, and I’m actually pretty impressed.
“Well, I haven’t really decided yet. But I’m thinking about philosophy or art.” Her voice trails up at the end, almost like she’s asking a question, so anxious for my parents to approve. Rowe has no idea how perfect her answer was, but she’s about to find out.
“You know, Cathy’s an artist,” my dad says, always the first to brag about my mom.
“I have a small studio,” my mom says modestly. The truth is my mom has three small studio galleries in New Orleans and California, and she sells a lot of her work. She does sculpture and metal work, and I don’t know much about her world, but I know people pay her a lot of money when they commission a piece.
“You should check out my mom’s website,” I say, getting Rowe’s attention. “She does metal sculpture. I bet you’d like it.” Rowe bites at her lip and smiles, her grip on my hand loosening with every minute that passes.
“Here…I have a card.” My mom reaches into her purse and pulls out a bent card with her website listed on it, and Rowe studies it closely.
“Thanks, I will,” she says, her smile somewhere between wonder and relief. She leans down to tuck the card in her purse.
Rowe relaxes even more when the waitress shows up, cutting her interview with my parents short. Minutes later, we’re all picking at the loaf of bread dropped off at our table, too interested in the garlic butter and toasted edges to pay any more attention to conversation.
I let Rowe’s hand go, but only for a few minutes while we place our orders and take our drinks. And as soon as the waitress leaves our table, I reach for her again, and her hand is actually waiting for mine.
“Oh, we ran into the Maxwells,” my mom starts, sucking all air from my lungs. I don’t know why she thinks this is a good direction for dinner talk, but I’m rapidly trying to get Ty’s attention, hoping he can help me make a conversational U-turn somehow. But no, he only makes it worse.
“Yeah? Was that slut Sadie with them?” Ty has a way with words, and those just made sure Cass and Rowe were completely dialed in on whatever my mom says next.
“Ty, your mouth,” Mom says.
“Oh, right. Sorry. I guess the appropriate term is hooker. Is that the nice way to categorize your brother’s cheating ex-girlfriend?” I kick Ty’s chair under the table, and he finally looks up. “What? That’s what she is!”
I keep trying to motion my eyes to Rowe sitting next to me, and finally he gets it and just mouths sorry, returning his attention to the salad now in front of him.
“Anyway,” my mom continues. “We didn’t see Sadie, just her parents. But they said she took the scholarship to Oklahoma State.”
Great. My cheating ex-girlfriend, the first and only girl I said I loved, is playing basketball for a college less than ninety miles from me. And I find this out while desperately clinging to the fingers of the girl sitting next to me. The girl I want. The only thing I’ve thought about since I met her almost a month ago. The girl who says I’ll probably never meet her parents because we’ll never be anything more than whatever the hell it is we are right now. And all I can do is be okay with it all, because her problems are a hell of a lot heavier than mine.
“Ha, I bet you run into her,” Ty says, and this time I throw a piece of lettuce at him, like I’m four. When my mother isn’t looking, he just gives me his middle finger, and Rowe lets go of my other hand.
Rowe
Everything changed when Nate’s parents brought up Sadie. His posture was different, his breathing was different, the way his hand felt in mine—different. Nate’s mom told a few stories about him and Sadie, talking about how they won prom king and queen in high school, and how Nate had this secret crush on Sadie his junior year and used to go to all of her basketball games and leave before the end of the fourth quarter, afraid to talk to her.
I had a hard time imagining Nate being anything other than confident, which made me start to wonder about how different he is with me. Sadie had his heart, as far as I can tell. At least, she did until she betrayed him—Ty wasn’t shy about sharing that part, about how Nate walked in on her with his best friend at their graduation party.
The walk home with Nate, Cass, and Ty felt strange now that I had all of this new information, too. And I couldn’t help but think that maybe hearing about Sadie had brought up old feelings.
“Wanna hang?” Nate says, bringing me back to the present. Ty and Cass are ahead of us, already heading down the hall to my room. When the door closes behind them, I know I have nowhere to go, at least not for a while.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling much more like a burden than I would have a couple of hours ago.
Nate flips the TV on to “Sports Center,” and part of me thinks he just wants to fill the quiet in the room. I sit on the edge of Ty’s bed, my purse in my lap, and watch a montage of amazing baseball plays.
“That guy’s awesome. The shortstop for Colorado?” Nate says, sliding back on his bed and propping his head up on a pillow, the awkwardness still very much alive between the two of us.
“I bet I’ll see you up there someday,” I say, instantly feeling gushy and stupid, like a fan girl.
“You coming to my tournament next weekend?” He still hasn’t looked at me. He hasn’t put his eyes to mine since the Sadie conversation.
“Oh, uh…I can’t. I’m going home for the weekend.” For whatever reason, that seems to get Nate’s attention, and his eyes move immediately to mine. I hold his stare as long as I can without breaking, but eventually it becomes too intense, and I look back down to the floor.
“How come I can’t meet your parents?” he asks, and I’m so perplexed by his question that I can only respond with one of my own.
“Are you still in love with Sadie?”
Nate holds my stare again, just like he did before, only this time he’s the one to break. He reaches along the side of his bed for the television remote, pushing the mute button so we’re forced to fill the silence between us. He slides forward on his bed until he’s on the edge, right across from me, and then he squares his long legs to the side, facing me completely.
“Sadie was my high school girlfriend. She’s the first girl I said I loved and was the one to take my virginity. Before graduation, we were planning on going to the same college. She plays basketball, and she’s really fucking good.” There’s a bite to his tone, and it makes me uncomfortable.
“When I caught her with my best friend Seth, I fell out of love with her—in an instant. There was no thinking about it, no wondering what I did wrong. I woke up that morning in love and I came home that night out of it. So no, Rowe. I’m not in love with Sadie. Her parents are still friendly with mine, but I’m so incredibly out of love with Sadie that I don’t even get angry or bitter when my family tells me stories about her. The only thing that made
me upset tonight was having to hear those stories in front of you.”
It’s so quiet in his room that I’m afraid to swallow the gigantic lump that is choking me, but I do. And when I do, Nate leans forward even more, his elbows on his knees while he brings his hands together in front of him to crack each knuckle, again, his eyes never leaving me.
“Why Rowe?” He just leaves his question in the air. Two words that could mean anything, and I know they mean everything.
“Why what?” I sound combative and snarky, and I don’t mean to, but I don’t know how to cross this line with him, and I don’t even know if my heart is mine to give. But I know that I don’t like hearing about him and Sadie, and I know I’m relieved he’s not in love with her anymore.
“Why do you care about how I feel about Sadie?” His eyes intensify on me. “I mean, if I’m not the kind of guy you introduce to your parents, why does it matter who I hook up with? What are we doing here, Rowe? What is this?”
“I don’t know!” I stand and bring my purse to my body, wanting desperately to leave, to run back to my own room and hide. But there’s a part of me that also wants Nate’s mouth on mine, and that part is hungry and forceful and begging to be heard. And then I close my eyes, and I see Josh’s face, and everything feels worse.
When I open my eyes again, Nate is standing in front of me, his arms to his side and his fingers threatening to connect with mine, but just coming close enough for me to feel his heat. His chest is inches away, and slowly he reaches up to put his thumb under my chin. I close my eyes tightly, and my fingers cling to my purse, hoping my heart can survive whatever is about to happen.
“I don’t play games, Rowe. I’m just…I just don’t,” he says against my ear. “I will wait, but I won’t wait forever.”