What If

by Rebecca Donovan

  When she looks into my eyes, her laughter drifts into a soft smile. I don't look away, brushing her cheek with my thumb.

  My heart is pounding as I open my mouth to say--

  "Are you guys coming?" Rae calls from the door. My hand falls away along with my words as we both turn to the door.

  *

  I poke my head into the bedroom next to mine, where Rae is lying on the bed with headphones covering her ears, tapping her drumsticks in the air to an unheard beat. When she notices I'm in the doorway, she sits up and pulls the headphones around her neck.

  "Have you seen Nyelle?" I ask her.

  "No. She was downstairs with your mom earlier," she replies. "Not there?"

  I shake my head. I've been in the garage for the past few hours, distracting myself with bike parts to keep from thinking about how fucked up this whole thing is--Richelle dying of cancer, Nicole becoming Nyelle to deal with it, and it all happening around me without me knowing it.

  "Are you coming back to Renfield with us tomorrow?" Rae asks, standing.

  "I'm staying here to work," I tell her.

  "I think Nyelle's coming with us."

  I feel my shoulders stiffen. "She is?"

  "I think that's what Maura was talking to her about downstairs. She offered to help her talk to her parents."

  "Where is she, Rae?" I hurry down the stairs. Not liking that she's disappeared right after she discussed facing her parents. I need to find her.

  "I don't know," she replies, following me after.

  My mother left to get food for dinner. The groceries Nyelle and I bought aren't exactly ideal for family dinners. I'm hoping Nyelle left with her.

  We didn't talk much last night, after all the secrets were torn open. The three of us passed out on the shag carpet in front of the fire, emotionally inebriated. And we've each spent today doing whatever we needed to distract ourselves from the pain.

  I continue outside and around to the back of the house and stop at the corner when I spot Nyelle behind the cabin, pacing.

  She's shaking her head, walking back and forth in a quick strides. Her hands clench and release as she mutters a blur of words.

  "She's still crazy," Rae says from beside me.

  "She's not crazy," I defend, hesitating to approach her. "She's coping."

  "Because she's crazy," Rae repeats. "What do we do?"

  "I've got this," I assure her, watching Nyelle continue to get worked up.

  "Are you sure? Maybe we should wait for Maura." The concerned tone in Rae's voice makes me grin. She cares. And I like it.

  "It's okay, Rae. Really. I've got this." I think. Taking a breath, I walk toward Nyelle, leaving Rae at the corner of the house.

  When I get close enough, I ask, "Who do you talk to when you do that?"

  Nyelle stops in the worn path she's making on the lawn, looking up at me in surprise. "Oh, hi. What did you say?"

  "When you do this, you know, walk back and forth, talking out loud. Who are you talking to?"

  She smiles uneasily. "Me mostly. Sometimes Richelle. It's what I do instead of screaming, I guess."

  I'd figured that's what it was.

  "I'm going home to see my parents tomorrow," she informs me, blowing out a quick breath. "I'm a little nervous."

  "Makes sense," I say, getting closer. "Do you want to see them? You don't have to, you know."

  "I know. I don't hate them, Cal. I just don't want to be like them." Her eyes dip when she adds, "Besides, where else do I have to go?"

  I'm about to tell her to come back with me. And she must know it, because she cuts me off before I can offer. "We knew this was coming. I told you I had to leave. And I still do. I don't belong at Crenshaw. You know that."

  I nod, swallowing the bitterness in my mouth. "Will you go to Harvard?"

  "I don't know," Nyelle responds thoughtfully. "That was always my dad's dream. I'm not sure if it's mine."

  With a sinking exhale, Nyelle sits on the ground and lies back on the grass. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do anymore."

  "Well, you're Nyelle for a reason," I say thoughtfully, lying next to her on the cold, damp ground. I should have known it was going to be miserable down here. "Because you wanted to start again."

  "Richelle wanted this life for me. For me to be happy. That's all she ever wanted." I glance over at her. Her eyes are closed and her lips are trembling. "I miss her. I miss her so much, Cal. It still hurts, and I don't know what to do without her." Nyelle chokes on a tearful laugh. "God, I don't want to cry anymore."

  I reach for her hand and hold it tight. Sharing the secrets that've weighed her down all these years hasn't exactly set her free. Nyelle is still lost and still hurting. And I wish I could be the one to protect her from all the expectations that will keep her from being happy.

  "You're not alone," I say quietly.

  She rolls her head to look at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I know." A faint smile emerges. "You and Rae are my best friends. You always have been, even when you didn't know it. And I've missed you guys.

  "And I'm so sorry I hurt you," she continues, her voice cracking. "I never wanted to hurt you, I swear. So... please don't walk away from me, Cal. Things are going to be awful when I go back to Renfield. I know it, but I have to do it. So I need you to be my friend. I can't do this without you."

  "Of course," I say, having a hard time forming the words. I want to sink into the ground and let it swallow me whole. She wants to be friends. We were always friends. But that's not exactly what I had in mind now. And I can't help thinking about what she said about falling backward in the dark. Well, I just landed in a pit of spears, and it fucking hurts.

  "I'm not going anywhere," I say, squeezing her hand as I redirect my attention to the clouds moving swiftly across the night sky. There aren't any stars to wish on tonight. I could really use a do-over right about now.

  With that spear jutting through my heart, I assure her, "I'm not walking away. I promise."

  *

  The next morning, I see them off to Renfield, staying behind with Zac and Henley to earn back the money I've spent on airfare. I still plan on buying that drum set for Rae. Hopefully, I'll be able to get it for her before she goes to Berklee, because I'm convinced she's going.

  When I return to Crenshaw at the end of the week, everything seems... quieter. I know it's because Nyelle isn't with me. I enter the apartment, not really wanting to be here without her. But she has to figure out what's best for her right now. And I need to let her do that without any added pressure from me. I don't want to be another person putting an expectation on her.

  I open the door to my room and I falter, like something inside me just ruptured.

  Strewn across my floor are thirty deflated balloons, with "You are loved," tied to each string. I sit down on the edge of my bed, picking up a blue balloon, silently blaming it for making me feel like shit.

  I take off my jacket and throw it on my desk chair, but it slides off and lands on the floor. When I bend over to pick it up, I notice a yellow piece of paper sticking out of the inside pocket. I actually didn't know I had an inside pocket until now.

  The paper is worn, like it's been opened and closed a hundred times. After carefully unfolding it, I find, "Nicole and Richelle's List" and then in parenthesis next to it in another handwriting it says, "Ni-Elle." I laugh. This is the list.

  There are little boxes next to each item. I smile wide, having been a witness to most of them. "Hot Air Balloon Ride" is circled without a check mark. And there are three question marks next to "Relive the Happiest Day of Your Life."

  Sitting on the bed, I continue scanning the checked boxes. Then I stop. The paper flutters within my shaking hands when I see the check mark next to:

  "Fall in Love (with Cal)."

  Epilogue

  Spring Break--Sophomore Year of College

  "Hi!"

  I just about drop the wrench that's in my hand when her voice echoes through the garage.
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br />   Then I just about drop to my knees when I see her standing in the entrance. Her hair is back to its natural black, pinned in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. And she's wearing a short yellow dress, looking even more gorgeous than she did the first day I saw her, wearing that same shade. She's still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

  "Hi," I say, clearing my throat, trying to find my voice. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

  I haven't seen Nyelle since she returned to Renfield two months ago. Although we've texted or spoken just about every day, it still hasn't been easy for her. Being back with her parents, she has to fight the expectations they try to put upon her, so she doesn't become that girl again. I hear the pressure in her voice sometimes when we talk, and I say whatever I can to make sure she doesn't give in. Rae's probably a better help than I am. She couldn't stand the closed-off version of Nicole and lets her know it whenever she sees Nyelle slipping back into the perfected shell. Although I probably need to give my mother the most credit since she's the one who's introduced Nyelle to a psychologist friend of hers.

  Her parents have slowly come to terms with calling her Nyelle, since that's the girl she's always wanted to be. But she did take back Bentley instead of Preston, Richelle's mother's maiden name. And oddly enough, her parents are backing off on the whole Harvard pressure. I can only imagine how hard it is for her father since it's been his dream since her conception.

  I look down at my grease-covered hands and back at the formfitting dress, cursing the world. Nyelle notices the distraught look on my face and laughs. I grab a rag and do my best to wipe my hands clean as Nyelle slowly approaches. If she gets much closer, there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my hands off her.

  "I had this whole thing planned for when you're supposed to arrive tomorrow night," I say when she stops to admire the motorcycle, running her hand along the blue flames on the gas tank.

  "And you can't do it now?" she questions, taking a few steps closer. I haven't moved. The way the dress hugs her hips is too tempting, and I don't trust myself.

  I look around the garage. "This wasn't exactly where I wanted to do it."

  "Then we can wait until tonight if you want."

  I wipe the sweat from my hands. "I don't know if I can wait that long. It's been torture waiting this long."

  "Then tell me where we'll be, when I arrive tomorrow night," she requests, closing her eyes.

  "What?" I ask, confused.

  "I'll picture it in my head," she explains with her eyes still closed. "I arrive. It's dark. You come out of the cabin, then..."

  I take a breath, feeling my heart thrumming. Here goes nothing.

  "I take your hand," I begin.

  "Ooh, I like this so far."

  "I haven't done anything yet," I say with a chuckle.

  "You're holding my hand," she counters, lifting her hand for me to take.

  "My hands are dirty."

  "I don't care about getting dirty," she says, still waiting with her hand extended.

  I step closer so that we're only a deep breath apart and take her hand in mine--hoping she doesn't realize that it's shaking. She smiles.

  I stand in front of her, looking into her eyes, which are still closed, trying to imagine the shade of blue they'd be right now if they were open.

  "Then we walk to the back of the cabin and lie down on the grass to look at the stars. And it's a cloudless night. There are so many stars it looks like someone scattered confetti all over the sky."

  She smiles wider.

  "And then what?" she asks when I'm quiet too long, lost in the smile on her face.

  What I'm about to say releases a thousand of those butterflies she talks about in my chest.

  "We wait until there's a shooting star, so we can wish on a second chance. And when it happens... I wish for you."

  Her eyes open. They are so bright, I'm almost blinded by them.

  "For me?"

  "Yeah. Nyelle, I want be your best friend. But I can't be just friends with you," I explain, taking in the big crystal-blue eyes staring at me. And then... I fall backward. "You're her... my what if girl. The girl I will forever regret if I let you go."

  In an unexpected motion, Nyelle wraps her arms around my neck and jumps up on me. I catch her, faltering back a step. I'm never prepared when she does this.

  "I'm getting your dress dirty," I say, my hands pressed against the curves that the tight dress accentuates so well.

  "I don't care," she says, kissing my cheek. "Because that's exactly who I want to be." She kisses my mouth quickly. "And that's the answer to the question you asked me."

  "What question?"

  "The night we were lying on the grass, and I said I didn't know."

  "Who you wanted be?" I recall.

  "Your what if girl," she responds, hugging me. "The girl you can't be without."

  "You're more than that, you know," I tell her. She pulls back to look at me. "You always have been."

  Her mouth is on mine, and I can feel the tension leave me. I've run this entire moment over in my mind a thousand times, with a hundred different endings. This one is better than all of them.

  I'm hoping Zac doesn't come in to find us kissing with her legs wrapped around me and her skirt hiked up to her hips with my hands cupping her where the fabric ends and her flesh begins.

  She slowly eases away and stares into my eyes, unable to contain her smile. "You know you're never getting rid of me now, right?"

  "Sounds good to me," I say, slowly lowering her to the ground but keeping my arms around her.

  "So... I sent a letter to Harvard, explaining my situation, and they extended my acceptance."

  My eyes widen. "You're going to Harvard?"

  She nods. "Rae told me you're going to BU. It all worked out perfectly, don't you think?"

  "I was waiting to tell you... until you decided what you were going to do," I explain, feeling guilty, not wanting her to think I was keeping it from her. "You needed to make the decision on your own without me influencing it in any way."

  "I know," she says, squeezing me with her head pressed to my chest. "Have you declared a major yet?"

  "I have no idea what I want to do with my life except to have you and Rae in it."

  A gorgeous smile emerges on Nyelle's face.

  "How come Harvard was never on the list?" I ask, holding her against me.

  "I wasn't sure if going was because I wanted to go, or because my father expected me to. But I've worked really hard to earn that acceptance. And it's one of the best universities in the country. As Rae told me, I'd be stupid not to go."

  I laugh.

  "So... you found the list?" Nyelle confirms, peering up cautiously.

  "I liked the last one," I say, kissing her gently, letting our lips linger.

  Her cheeks are flushed when we part. "I still have one more to check off."

  "The hot air balloon?" I confirm. "We can do that."

  "I think I want to get married in a hot air balloon," she announces casually.

  "What?" I start choking. Literally. I start choking.

  She laughs and then keeps laughing, like she and Rae do when they're messing with me.

  "That wasn't nice."

  "You should have seen your face," she returns, about to start laughing again, but I interrupt her with another deep kiss.

  "At least I don't have to worry about your meeting-the-parents fear," she says when she slowly pulls away. "You've already met mine."

  "And they scare the shit out of me," I respond. She laughs.

  "Come on. There's something we have to do," she says, stepping away and taking my hand.

  "What's that?" I ask as we exit the garage.

  Standing in front of the cabin is Rae, holding enough balloons to make me worry they might send her floating off into the sky.

  "Relive the happiest day of my life," she announces, squeezing my hand.

  "What were you guys doing in there?" Rae huffs; then she notices t
he grease handprints on Nyelle's dress. "Forget it. I don't want to know."

  Nyelle takes the balloons from Rae and carefully divides them up between us. They each have the "You are loved" message tied to them.

  "These are for Richelle," Nyelle explains, "from us. So she always knows. And we never forget her."

  I hold the strings of the balloons with one hand and take Nyelle's hand in the other.

  "Ready?" she asks, looking between us. "On three. One. Two. Three."

  We release the balloons and watch them drift off.

  "I love you," I lean over and say in Nyelle's ear.

  "It's about time," Rae grumbles, making Nyelle laugh the laugh that makes everything right. My laugh.

  "I've always loved you," she says. "You were my first wish."

  A Note from the Author

  This is a story that can easily be spoiled, but I ask that it not be by you. If you choose to leave a review, I kindly request that you allow the next readers to have their own journey, to experience whatever emotions this story may stir in them, spoiler free.

  I hope What If made you feel. It's what I strive for each time I create. Every day I am reminded how lucky I am to do what I do. Thank you for choosing to reading this novel, and thank you so much for being a part of my journey.

  (Now that you know the ending, you may want to read What If again! It's delicately constructed so that it's an entirely different experience when you know the truth. Remember, everything's on purpose!) ~ Rebecca Donovan

  Acknowledgments

  The concept of What If came to me while listening to a song. Executing the inspiration became a complex layering of storytelling. Creating this world challenged me throughout the entire process. But after writing, rewriting and rewriting again several more times over, the result is a story that I love, about living the life you want, not the one you're given. I believe this arduous process allowed me to grow as a writer, demanding more of myself with each attempt, until every word was expressed with the passion and intensity it deserved.

  I couldn't have survived the trials of rewrites without the support and encouragement of these two incredible people: My agent, Erica Silverman, was always encouraging and provided essential feedback to strengthen Cal's voice. And my partner in all things literary, Elizabeth. She is a trusted friend, and an extremely talented person. I could gush over her for an eternity. I wouldn't be half the author I have become without her.