Chasing William

by Therese McFadden

  I never felt closer to Will than I did that night. I think that’s the night I started to learn about true love, although, I’ve always been a little upset with myself about it too. I mean, aren’t all these stories supposed to have a happy ending when the secret girlfriend finds out she’s pregnant? I sometimes think about the healing we could have had if I was having a baby. Sure, my life would never be the same, but it isn’t the same anyway. William’s mother would have a piece of him to hold onto, and I’d have a piece of us to keep for the rest of my life. And yet we’d been responsible. The one time we did the right thing. Just another step in a long line of me playing it safe. Maybe that was for the best, though.

  I’m not sure why, but thinking about that puts me in a bad mood on what is probably the worst day ever to be in a bad mood. It is the four-month anniversary of William’s death, but it still feels like I’d found out just hours ago and am stuck in angry grief. Irrational, angry grief. It’s almost the end of the day and all I want to do is get home and sit in my room. It would stand to reason that now is the time I hear it.

  “Yeah, my mom’s driving everybody home so you don’t need to worry about a ride.”

  I’m not in my right mental state; I’m way too emotional. I know this. I also know that I have to teach Amanda a lesson, I have to call her out, and I have to do it now.

  “Hey, Amanda, what’s going on?” I’m shaking. I’m so upset I’m actually shaking and I don’t know if it’s because I miss William or because I’ve finally had enough with Amanda.

  “Christine! Oh my god. Did no one tell you again? I was wondering why you hadn’t asked for a ride. I can’t believe this keeps happening. I’m so sorry!”

  I notice she didn’t work an invitation in there anywhere, and I feel myself shake even more and my mind starts to cloud and I know I should shut up and walk away. For once I don’t walk away and once I open my mouth I don’t know how to stop.

  “Oh, shut the hell up, Amanda. What’s your problem with me, huh? What’s your problem, Amanda? You think I’m so dumb I actually fall for all this bullshit you’re giving me? I’m not an idiot. Besides, it doesn’t even take that much effort to see through someone as shallow as you. Is it because I’m better in English than you? Is that what this whole thing’s about? Or are you just a bitch? I think you’re just a bitch. You must be, because you sure as hell aren’t a friend of mine! Why weren’t you there with me at his funeral if we’re supposed to be such great friends? Where the hell were you when William died? He was my boyfriend and now he’s dead, and where the fuck were you through the whole damn thing? Where the fuck were you, Amanda? What’s your excuse for that?” My throat is sore because I’ve been screaming and sobbing. I’m still sobbing. I want to crawl into a locker and never come out again. Everyone heard, there’s no way they didn’t. At least the teachers are kind enough to not come out of their classrooms. I have no idea what to do next and I never wanted me and William to come out like this. I never wanted to use his death in anger. It wasn’t something I wanted people to feel sorry for me about, or use it to get attention. It had just become such a part of me and I’d been so desperate to tell someone.

  Amanda looks down at me. She isn’t even mad, she just looks superior. It’s like she’d been waiting for me to break and I’d finally done her a favor. Whatever she does next I have to stay for it. My legs are weak and I want to throw up, but I have to stand here and take it.

  “Well, I guess you know why you’re never invited.” Her eyes are triumphant. “Oh, and using someone’s death to hide behind is just really low. Dirt low.”

  She turns around and Liz follows without even looking at me. That’s fine, we’d never really been that great of friends. Mars looks confused, but Amanda’s her ride so she doesn’t really have a choice what side to take. Prudence looks at me and her eyes are sad, but they also say “I don’t want it to be me,” and she follows.

  Not only am I alone, I don’t even have a pack to hide in. I just want to get out, I don’t want to be here anymore. I need a break. I need a vacation from reality and school, and all these people. Even Christmas break won’t be enough. Staying at home “relaxing” was just what I did when he died and it isn’t going to be enough this time. I actually need to get away. I have to get away from all the places I’ve shared with him, all the places I’ve had to be without him, away from the “friends” who didn’t understand.

  My ride home is unusually quiet. I can’t even bring myself to turn on the radio. I want to die. At least then I’d be with Will and not have to go back to school and face the rest of my life. I have no idea how I’m going to get through this.

  “Hey, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

  I hate that my mom can tell what’s wrong just by how I open the door. I also really need the opening. I go into the kitchen, sit down, put my arms on the table and bury my head, talking through my arms while sobbing out the whole story for hours.

  “And he was my boyfriend and I didn’t want to tell anybody because I thought you’d be upset, but I loved him and I’m not hiding behind his death, I just don’t know what anything is anymore…I just know that he’s dead and I loved him and now my friends are gone too.”

  “Shh. I knew, sweetie. Your dad and I just didn’t know how to handle it. When we became parents we never thought we’d have to deal with something like this. We’re trying the best we can. Oh, baby, if I could take away all your pain and live it for you I would.”

  “You knew?”

  My mom gives one of her sly mom smiles.

  “I gave birth to you and raised you for almost eighteen years. You think I can’t tell when my daughter’s in love?”

  I smile back, but smiling just makes me cry even harder (I don’t even want to try and figure out how that works).

  “I need to take a road trip by myself. I need to go to Minnesota.” I’m not sure what made me say it, but the second the words come out I know they’re true. Minnesota was where William had gone to ‘“That Place”’, and I need to go there to see if I can find him. I need to follow his ghost and figure out my life. It will get me away from all these people who don’t understand what it’s like to be forced to grow up so soon. This year was supposed to be the best year of high school ever, the year before I left for college. I have to figure out who I am now that William is gone, where I want to go to college, and what I want to do with my life in just a few short months. All at the same time.

  “I know it’s hard, but your father and I can’t just let you take off and go to a different state all alone. You know that.”

  “Of course I know that, but if I’m old enough to die I should be old enough to live a little. I just need to do this. I need to run away and I won’t be missing school. I’ll check in every day. You can tell people I’m going on a college visit. Doesn’t Aunt Karrie live in St. Paul or somewhere? I could stay with her and then it’s not even like I’m going by myself. I just--Mom-- I can’t…” I start crying all over again. I’m so sick of crying all the time. I’m sick of never being in control anymore. I’m sick of not being able to do anything about anything. “I need to run away but I’m too scared to go without someone knowing where I’m going. If I don’t chase him now I may lose the chance forever. What if I lose him all over again? I just need him back. It hurts…” I sob. I cry for just long enough to fall asleep at the table. It always amazes me how exhausting crying can be. Anytime I cry, really cry, the kind of tears that get your whole body involved, all I can do afterwards is fall asleep. This time I wake up and my parents are both there looking concerned.

  “You call us at least twice a day, you’re back by the end of the week, and you’re taking mace and a taser.”

  I can’t smile because I’m too exhausted, but I feel at peace. I know I have to go to school tomorrow, but now I know I’m getting away. I’m getting away and I’m going out to find him. I’m getting away. I’m getting away! I’m getting away!

  I have no idea what I’m looking for, but I th
ink I’m chasing that part of him I didn’t know. The part of him that supposedly got him killed. That part of him that existed without me. Maybe if I find him he can help me through this.

  To: William Davis

  Message: William! I get to visit. I’m not sure how it happened, but I needed to get away and now I’ll have the chance. All on my own. You’d be proud. Actually, you’d probably be a total asshole and say something like “you sure you can survive on your own.” You know you would…

  I guess we’ll find out together, though. I’m actually excited. Can you believe it? Me, excited about something after doing nothing but cry and sleep for months. I know I won’t actually see you when I get there, but maybe there’s still a part of me that thinks I will. If you’re still there, will you let me catch up with you? I miss you so much, but I’m finally getting out of here! I just feel like nothing but good is going to come from this trip! Finally, something good is going to happen! I’m getting out of here!

  “Things are only as bad as you think they are.”

  I was right. Going back to school after the weekend of my meltdown was terrible, but not as terrible as I thought it was going to be. No one really remembered it over the weekend, or no one cared, or people just didn’t know who I was or remember I was the one who had a meltdown. The only people who did anything about it were Amanda and her group of my former friends. They refused to talk to me, Amanda flipped me off whenever we passed in the hallway, and I was forced to eat lunch by myself in front of my locker. None of that really bothered me though. Amanda told me to fuck off enough when we were friends. Now that we were enemies the insult doesn’t have much of a meaning. I don’t even mind eating lunch by myself. It gives me a chance to catch up on reading and I don’t have to listen to Amanda talk trash about a “person who will remain nameless”, also known as me.

  Besides, nothing really matters now, not highschool things at least. In just a few short weeks I am going to be in a car driving to Minnesota, chasing my ghost and seeing where it leads I might be a mess, friendless, boyfriend-less and a total loser, but I am going on an adventure. Once I get back from that I’ll be a totally different person. Maybe William will help me learn something about myself, or maybe I’ll finally find my voice. It does still hurt when Amanda and Pru walks past me by my locker without saying a word. Amanda’s condescending little smirk gets to me a lot more than I’ll ever admit out loud. My heart even hurts a little for losing them. But I can think of my trip and that gets me through the day.

  According to Google it should take me nine hours and fifteen minutes to get from here to there. I figure with various breaks for gas and the bathroom it would take closer to ten hours flat. I’ll be staying with my aunt in St. Paul, so my mom’s been arranging with her, making sure I’ll have a live body to check in with when I get there. It might be nice having a place I know I can crash. At least I won’t end up having to sleep in my car.

  It will mean taking a week off from work, and that idea is so foreign to me I haven’t asked off for it yet. I’m not sure what to say. I haven’t not worked for that long since before high school. I’m not sure what I am scared of more: not knowing what to do with myself or getting so used to not working I won’t want to go back. Either way I am running out of time, so it comes down to today after school. I’m not really sure why I’m so worried about all this. The world can’t possibly be out to get me the way I think it is. I force myself to get through the day, keeping my head down and avoiding Amanda at all costs before I can escape to work.

  I always think that the closer to the winter holidays it gets, the more people will be driven to buy used books. It never works that way though. No matter how crazy the shopping frenzy gets, people never feel the desire to buy an obscene number of new and used books. I guess people just aren’t as bookwormish as I am, or they’re less broke and more technologically advanced than me and have moved onto e-readers. I hate thinking paper books are going to be a thing of the past. Not that I have anything against ebooks. In fact, I think they’re a lot more convenient and in some cases, a lot more fun. I just like the atmosphere books create. They make a space safe. They smell like comfort and rainy days and cups of coffee. Still, even with all these book benefits, people don’t feel the need to buy them in bulk. Which all helps to make the point that, regardless of what people are buying in the rest of retail world, my store stays empty.

  As much as I need to talk to Mel about leaving for break, I decide to use my free time to look up routes for my upcoming road trip of… well, road trip of something. I keep trying to think of an awesome name to call my adventure, but it somehow seems irreverent. I don’t want to “enjoy” it. This road trip is supposed to be about finding myself and coming to terms with William’s death, finding my future, and keeping William in my heart while trying to move on. Tall orders for a road trip, and not exactly the kind of thing you can think about as fun. I still want it to be named something. I just can’t find the right words. I consider that another sign the universe and me aren’t in sync. I do have a map of Chinese restaurants along the route though. It’s amazing what you can find when you Google for it. I’m giving fortune cookies one last chance to come through for me before I give up on them completely.

  After one or two customers walking in and walking out, the night drag is finally over and I have to tell Mel I’ll be leaving for a week of my break. We won’t really be doing much extra business but I hate to leave because this place feels like my second home. I don’t want to miss the chance to take this trip. It might be the only time I’m brave enough to try. Besides, if I don’t do something dramatic, how will I ever figure out what to do with myself? I have to just focus on the goal, wrangle whatever courage I can find, and get it over with. Mel will understand. I know she will.

  Mel’s in her office doing some more paperwork. She’s on the phone and yelling at someone, but it doesn’t sound quite like a business call. Usually when she’s arguing with a supplier she’s holding up an invoice and shaking it at the phone. It doesn’t really help, at least I can’t imagine it does, but she tries it anyway. She isn’t doing it for this phone call though. It looks like it might even be personal. Now, Mel shares a lot more of her personal life with me than I do with her, but it’s all the “narrated” version. I like to think of the narrated version as the watered-down, dispassionate version of events, the kind that lacks the emotion and spirit necessary to come up with those true-life one-liners. It’s simply a statement of events. Sure, every story has a side and we’re all biased towards ourselves, but we can still give an unemotional (as unemotional as we can get) account when asked about our lives. That’s why it takes us so long to tell people things that are actually important. It takes us awhile to get to that point where we can narrate our own lives. This isn’t Mel narrating: she’s actually yelling and emotional. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her looking a mess. Proof that other people really do feel as screwed-up as me. I’ll never again underestimate the feeling of not being alone.

  “Hey, Mel.” I wait ten minutes after Mel hangs up before I knock on the wall of her office.

  “Hey, girl. Have a seat.” Mel smiles,but now I can see it’s strained. If anyone could understand, I know it’ll be her.

  “I’m gonna have to take off the week before Christmas. Seniors don’t have exams, so we have the week off and I won’t be here.”

  “Sure. It’s about time you went on a vacation. Family finally taking off for the holidays? Hope you’re going somewhere warm.”

  Mel is so friendly, and she’s not being fake. She genuinely cares. All the shit going on in her life and she still, somehow, has it in her to care about my vacation. I want to be like her. I want to be able to deal with my problems and still have time to care about the people I care about. You wouldn’t think that’d be such a hard thing to do, but from where I stand it seems almost impossible. It’s not that I don’t want to care. There just doesn’t seem to be any room in my heart left for empathy. Everything�
�s been taken over by this longing for William to come back.

  “No. It’s not really a family trip, just a road trip I’m going on myself. ” I take a deep breath. If I don’t get this next part out all at once I may never make it. “Well, my boyfriend died at the end of the summer and the whole relationship was just such a mess, but I loved him and I don’t know what to do without him, and now I have to figure out my whole life in so many different ways in just a few months and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do that.” I take another deep breath. The hard part was out and my voice wasn’t shaking, my eyes weren’t dripping, and aside from being winded I sounded normal. “I’m taking a road trip to Minnesota. He lived there for awhile and I just feel like I have to go there to try and figure things out. It doesn’t make much sense, but nothing really does now.”

  “Of course.” Mel gives a different kind of smile and gets out of her desk chair to give me a hug. “You poor thing. We’re both just a mess, aren’t we?”

  “Thanks. It’s nice not to be alone.”

  To: William Davis

  Message: Hey Will! I’m coming to visit you in just a few more weeks. Well, I guess you won’t really be there, but it feels like maybe if I get there you’ll be around somehow. I just want to tell someone about you. I’m not sure what it is. I guess I just want someone to listen and not judge, someone who doesn’t know me or you or anything. Someone who’ll just listen. I guess I just want to tell our story, or my story about you. I’m not sure how it works. I just feel like this trip is really going to be the start of something. It might be the biggest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It figures it would all have something to do with you. I love you, William.