Tell Me How This Ends

by Victoria De La O

  “Jude,” she says, but she has to stop, because she’s swallowing and breathing and trying not to cry. “I have to end this.”

  I stand up. “Too late for that now.”

  “If I break up with Ryan, it will—”

  “It will crush him. And I’m not going to be responsible for that,” I say.

  Before I know it, she is hugging me tight, clinging to me like a lifeline. I throw my arms around her.

  “Tell me how this ends,” she whispers against my shoulder.

  I hold her, aware that my body has missed the feel of her every minute of this past week—maybe this past month. I rock her back and forth.

  “Pretty obvious where you two are headed. Just let it play itself out.”

  She leans back, and there is such concern and affection in her eyes, all directed at me, that I’m floored by it. Maybe that’s how she reaches in and digs the honesty out of me.

  “What about you?” she asks.

  “I’ll be fine. Because at least you didn’t forget about us.”

  “Is that what you thought I’d done?”

  I nod, and she runs her hand over the back of my hair, taking her time along the way. My jaw is bruised from Ryan’s right hook, and she touches that spot with her fingertips.

  She sighs and then pulls away. She seems sad, so I put her face in my hands and kiss her forehead. I want to taste her mouth, but I know I won’t be able to stop there. I doubt she has that kind of willpower right now, either.

  “You’re pretty insecure for someone so arrogant.” She smiles at me, but it’s forced.

  “I’m sorry for what I said about you last night—the word I used. I didn’t mean it.”

  “I know.”

  “Do one thing for me,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “Get him to stop trying to include me.”

  She nods and then leaves. I busy myself with clearing the table. I scrub and scrub at the sticky residue from the syrup until there’s nothing left. I let myself think one more time about what I’m missing out on, and then I lock that thought in a box and toss it away. Because if I can’t get my shit together and get over my jealousy and angst, I will lose my brother for good.

  CHAPTER 10

  Elizabeth

  It’s a welcome relief to be around just the girls tonight. Ryan and Jude have left me chewed up and exhausted. And they say women are full of drama.

  Sam orders a pepperoni pizza while we kick back on Angel’s couch, the plan being to watch another scream-queen movie. Angel has slowly but surely been catching me up on all the movies I’ve missed from this genre, beginning with the original Halloween—during which I got so scared, I thought I would pee my pants.

  Angel scans through Netflix until she finds A Nightmare on Elm Street.

  Sam shakes her head. “Seriously? Where’s the romance? Where’s the sex?”

  “This one’s got a young Johnny Depp,” Angel says. “And you’re helping educate me and Lizzie in American culture.”

  “I was raised here,” I argue, but Sam and Angel ignore me.

  Sam moves closer to Angel so I can fit on the couch. “How are things going with Will?” Sam asks.

  Angel frowns. “It’s complicated.”

  Will is a serious guy, but he’s cute in a nerdy way. Angel met him in a coding class last year. At first she said he annoyed her, but then all of a sudden they were sleeping together. “He grew on me,” she said at the time.

  “It’s been a year, so you two need to just admit you’re together,” Sam says.

  “His family won’t approve of me because I’m not Asian, and I’m not sure mine would be much better, to be honest.”

  “Reminds me of my parents,” I say, thinking about my dad. As the holidays draw closer, he’s on my mind more often. I miss him, and it’s past time for us to have a come-to-Jesus about how he treated me after my breakup and why I had to leave Utah. I’m planning to head home for Christmas, so that could be the perfect opportunity.

  “The problem is, I’ve gotten too used to having a pseudo boyfriend,” Angel says. She clicks the remote to turn on the TV. “All of the benefits, none of the responsibilities. We hang out, we have fun, but I don’t have to worry about all the other stuff.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “We don’t fight over anything. We don’t get jealous. If we get annoyed with each other, we spend time apart for a while.”

  “You’re living the dream,” Sam says.

  “So you wouldn’t care if he dated someone else? I don’t think I could do that.” The thought of another girl with Ryan turns my stomach. The word “hypocrite” floats through my brain like a big scarlet balloon.

  Angel plays with a strand of her hair. “I don’t know. Maybe. But it bothers me more that it wouldn’t bother me that much.”

  Sam smiles. “I actually followed that. You’re more than friends with benefits, but you don’t like him enough to deal with the heavy shit.”

  “Kind of depressing when you put it that way, but yes.”

  The doorbell rings, so Angel gets up to answer it.

  When she comes back, we dive into the pizza.

  “This tastes so good.” The grease and the cheese and the pepperoni combine to make a heavenly experience. “Jude’s been trying to eat healthy, so he keeps making us vegetarian stuff.”

  “Hell, no,” Sam says, through a mouthful of food.

  “So he and Ryan made up?” Angel asks.

  “Yeah. Jude apologized to Ryan—said it all happened because he was drunk and tired. He claims that he is totally fine with everything.”

  I haven’t told anyone about what happened in Half Moon Bay. I couldn’t stand to hear my friends confirm what I already know: that I’m being unfair to Ryan. He deserves someone who is completely committed to him. And despite Jude’s insistence that he needed space from us, he’s overcompensating—making us dinner, putting on his game face, and hanging out with us at the house. Looks like I’m not the only one with a guilty conscience.

  “So that’s good, right? Everything is back to normal.” Angel gets up to get some drinks.

  “I guess.” Even I can tell I don’t sound convincing. “I know Jude isn’t being honest about everything.”

  “You don’t think he’s over you?” Sam asks.

  I shrug, but luckily Angel jumps in.

  “Maybe he’s jealous that you take up so much of Ryan’s time.”

  “Well Ryan’s a big boy, so Jude is going to have to learn to deal with it,” Sam says, opening a diet soda. “But it sure as hell doesn’t seem like you’re completely over Jude. Seems like it bothers you that he’s trying to move on.” As usual, Sam tells it like it is.

  “I really care about Ryan,” I argue.

  “I know that,” Sam says. “But he’s your first relationship since your asshat ex. Maybe you rushed into it a little—because you wanted it to work.”

  I put my hands over my face and shake my head. “How did I screw this up?”

  “You’re not a saint. Jude would tempt anyone,” Angel says.

  Sam nods her head. “Exactly. But you can’t have it all. If you’re going to stay with Ryan, you need to let Jude do his thing and be happy.”

  “She’s right,” Angel says.

  Angel has no idea just how right Sam is, and I hate that I’ve become someone who doesn’t tell her friends the whole truth. I have to get myself clear of Jude and let go of the idea of him. That was a lot easier before we spent that night in Half Moon Bay, getting a taste of what we could have had together.

  I just nod my head. “I have class early tomorrow, so if we’re going to watch this nasty movie, it’s now or never.”

  Angel hits Play.

  I grab a throw pillow so I can hug it during the scary parts. And because I need to be comforted right now.

  When Sam and I get home, I see I have two missed calls from Jeff.

  “What’s up?” I ask when he answers.

  “You up for s
ome company over Thanksgiving? I know you’re not coming home.”

  For Jeff to come out to California during a holiday means something is going on.

  “Sure. What’s wrong?”

  I hear only his breathing for a few seconds. Finally he breaks.

  “I ended things with Hannah.”

  “Oh. Sorry. That really sucks.”

  “Yeah. Thing is, everyone here is flaming pissed at me about it. Mom said she’s ‘disappointed in my lack of commitment to women.’”

  “Ouch. Well, come visit me, then. It will be awesome. Flights are going to be expensive, though.”

  “I’ll work it out.”

  We hammer out a few details before I hang up. I’m beyond excited by the thought of showing Jeff around the Bay Area.

  I head into Sam’s room and let her know Jeff is coming. “Is it okay if he stays here?”

  “Yeah. I’m not heading to Santa Cruz until Thursday morning, but then I’ll stay through the weekend, so you can use my room. And you know you can come hang out at our house for Thanksgiving. Your brother and Ryan, too. Mom’s making lumpia. But she’s making tofurkey, too, so I know that’s a major selling point for you.”

  I laugh. “Sweet baby Jesus. Thanks, but Jude’s cooking a turkey for us, so we’ll be eating there.”

  Sam has her hair in a long ponytail, and she tosses it over one shoulder.

  “What’s that boy gonna do when you and Ryan run off and make babies someday?”

  I sit down on her bed and pick at her chenille comforter. “There aren’t going to be babies anytime soon. But I have no idea. He has buddies at work, but Ryan is his closest friend, because he keeps everyone else at arm’s length. Probably no plans for a girlfriend, either. It would probably be hard for him to narrow it down to just one.”

  Sam gives me a sympathetic smile. “He had his chance with you, but he’s not ready yet. You did the right thing.”

  I hope someday to believe that with complete certainty.

  The next two weeks fly by, and before I know it, I’m rushing to San Jose International to pick up Jeff. I pass the mural of outstretched hands on the parking garage, and then pull to the curb just outside the Southwest terminal. I’m not supposed to get out of my Honda, but I do anyway. When Jeff sees me, he grabs me and lifts me high in the air. The security guard waves me off, so our reunion is cut short.

  I glance over at Jeff as I drive. He looks the same as when I saw him in July: sandy blond hair that’s a touch long, and crinkles around his warm brown eyes. He got those from my dad, along with his pointy chin. Jeff always seems like he’s smiling, even when he’s not. He has the kind of face that makes you want to tell him your secrets, and he uses that to his advantage every chance he gets.

  Jeff is muttering under his breath as he fiddles with the knobs and gauges in the car.

  “Your clock is wrong, your radio stations aren’t programmed, and your oil light is on.” He shakes his head in disgust.

  “Don’t say bad things about Myrtle.”

  “Myrtle?”

  “That’s her name. I kind of neglect her, but she’ll get us where we need to go this week. I have some oil in the trunk.”

  “Good girl,” he says. I slap him on the thigh and he laughs.

  As we walk across campus together, I point out some of my favorite spots: Tower Hall, with its ivy-covered brick, the City Hall dome, and the Olympic statue, where lots of people sit and study or relax.

  “They say Hoover Hall is haunted,” I tell him as we get close to my dorm.

  “Yeah? Ever see any ghosts?”

  “Nope. But I did see a naked guy once, right outside my building.”

  “This place sounds like a lot more fun than BYU.”

  We get to my door and I slide my card key in. “I’ve been getting ready all week for you to come.”

  “It took a week?” Jeff asks, inspecting our small living space. He sets his bag down by the door.

  “Wiseass. It was a mess. I’ve been busy.”

  “Uh-huh,” he says, his tone mocking.

  “Shut up. You can sleep with me or on the couch for the next couple nights. Then Sam will be gone and you can use my bed.”

  “Cool.”

  “You look good,” I say, finally getting the chance to study him properly. “Maybe a little tired.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  I take the hair tie from around my wrist and hand it to Jeff. He pouts but takes it from me. This is a ritual we’ve had since I was seven. Mom got too busy to do my hair all the time, so she made Jeff learn to braid it. He complained every single time, and yet he’d take it out and do it over again if it wasn’t right.

  He sits on the couch and gestures me to the floor, where I lean against his legs.

  “How were you able to get almost an entire week off?” I ask.

  Jeff is a junior financial analyst at an investment firm in Salt Lake City, which is less than a half hour from where we grew up.

  He divides my hair into three strands, working his hands through each lock.

  “We already had Thursday and Friday off. I had some time coming, so my boss gave in and gave me the rest of the week.”

  Now I know something is wrong, because Jeff never begs off work. He is trying so hard to move up the ladder, and I’ve never known him to do anything to jeopardize that.

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened with Hannah?” I ask over my shoulder.

  Jeff lets out a big sigh, then he tightens his hold on the three strands of hair and begins to braid them together, each overlapping the other.

  “I don’t know. Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe I’m not that reliable.”

  “You’ve had three long-term girlfriends in the last six years. Pretty sure that’s not it.” The motion of his hands and the slight tugging of my hair starts to make me feel sleepy. “Mom just wants a house full of grandbabies. Last week she asked me how Ryan feels about kids.”

  “Good Lord. It’s not just Mom, though. Hannah and her parents hate me for breaking her heart. Everyone thinks I’m a dick right now.”

  “You’re not a bad person for breaking up with her. If it wasn’t right, it wasn’t right.”

  “Yeah, but Hannah had no idea it was coming, and now she’s a wreck. She thought I was going to propose, the night I ended it.”

  “Ouch. But you didn’t love her, so what else could you do?”

  “What am I holding out for, Lizzie? Every girl I’ve been with has been great. Why can’t that be enough?”

  “Do you just get bored?”

  “Maybe. But it’s more than that.”

  “Such as?”

  His hands are braiding faster now. “I don’t know. If I’m going to take the plunge, I want to feel something huge—like I can’t live without her. Shit, I sound like a girl.”

  “Rude!”

  “You know what I mean. Maybe I’m just being unrealistic.”

  I can’t help but smile. “You worry too much. That’s Mom and Dad talking. Not every girl you date has to be a long-term thing. You should have more fun. Date different people. Make sure you’re really into someone before she expects a ring on her finger and starts planning the baby shower.”

  “Is that your way of telling me to sleep around? Because I don’t think I want that advice from my baby sister.”

  “What’s wrong with some NCMOs?” In Utah, that’s short for noncommittal make-outs. “You’re too damn serious for your own good. You work yourself to the bone and you throw everything else into these relationships. All work and no play, and all that.”

  “I’m not sure you follow your own advice, Lizzie.”

  “True.”

  “Either way, it’s nice to be here, where people don’t think I’m a total asshole.”

  “They’re going to have to get over it, because you have nothing to feel guilty for. In the meantime, you can check out some California girls.”

  He sighs. “That is the last thing I want to think about rig
ht now.” He secures my braid with the hair tie.

  I hear the front door opening, and in comes Sam, carrying her oversize backpack. Her hair is falling out of her ponytail, and her clothes are wrinkled.

  “Did you just get off work?” I ask her.

  She pushes her hair out of her eyes. “Yes. And I went there straight from a study session.”

  She peers behind me at Jeff. “Are you Lizzie’s brother? I’m Sam, her roommate. Obviously.”

  Sam is flustered. And Jeff is staring at her funny, like Bugs Bunny just hit him on the head with a mallet.

  “Jeff,” he says quietly, reaching his hand out to her.

  They shake hands, and then Sam makes a quick exit to the shower.

  “Still the last thing you want to think about?” I tease Jeff, whose eyes have tracked Sam to her room.

  He puts me in a headlock, and I laugh while I try to elbow my way out of it. Just like old times.

  Sam has to be at the hospital the next day, but she promises to meet up with us for dinner. It’s a shame she misses breakfast, because Jeff makes a mean omelet. It’s a family joke that Jeff only excels at breakfast foods, so we knew when it was his turn to make dinner, we’d be eating eggs.

  After breakfast, we decide to explore downtown. We dodge people, light-rail trains, and cars, stopping to view the buildings and shops. We get all the way to San Pedro Square, a cool indoor market with food stands that offer everything from barbecue to pho. I buy Jeff some sushi.

  “Never had this. Are you sure it’s safe for me to eat it?” Jeff asks, poking at his sushi with his chopsticks.

  I love that he’s willing to try this for me, because I bet he wouldn’t do it for almost anyone else.

  “I got you the cooked stuff. I didn’t think you were ready for the big guns.” I eat my California roll like a pro, while Jeff struggles.

  “My fingers have always been too big to work these things.” He finally gets a shrimp roll into his mouth. “So you eat raw fish now?”

  “No. I’ve tried it twice. It tastes slimy. But don’t tell anyone, or I’ll lose my California cred.”

  “Damn, it’s crowded here,” Jeff says as people brush past us to try to find seats.

  “No doubt. I felt like I couldn’t breathe at first. I’m used to it now, though.” I get up and throw our paper plates away. “Come on, ice cream is on me. It’ll get the sushi taste out of your mouth.”