Love You Hate You Miss You

by Elizabeth Scott

  “You haven’t ever said—” Laurie cleared her throat. “What about your parents? Were they there?”

  “As much as they’re ever anywhere,” I said. “But Julia totally took care of them. They were all, ‘What happened?’ and when I reminded them that they could have taken three seconds to talk to the doctor, she said, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Richards, let me tell you what really happened,’ and when she was done with her story my mother was talking about some campus party she’d heard about, where this girl who drank a lot of what she thought was punch, but was actually mostly vodka, had to have her stomach pumped.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “She told me she was glad I hadn’t gotten as sick as that girl and to be more careful about taking drinks from strangers. And just so you won’t ask, Dad nodded along with everything Mom said and asked me to promise that I’d be more aware.”

  Laurie scribbled stuff down, and I thought about how Julia had grinned at me after they left, walking off hand in hand like always to get coffee while they waited for me to be discharged, and said, “You know, they were really worried.”

  When I rolled my eyes she sat down next to me and said, “Really,” and then we’d laughed over the story she’d told.

  She’d said, “God, they’re so much easier than my mom!” and she was right. Julia’s mother would have cried and screamed and started in on J the second she woke up. She didn’t trust Julia one bit, always wanted to know where she was going and who she’d be with. She’d question her over and over till Julia would yell, “Fine, whatever, I’m going,” and leave.

  “What happened after that?” Laurie said.

  “Julia told the doctor she wasn’t going anywhere when he came in to check on me and asked why she was still there. She scrounged up some old magazines and read the articles in funny voices. She bought me a candy bar when I said I wanted something to eat and the nurse I asked said, ‘Honey, you’ll just throw it up.’ The nurse was right, but it didn’t matter. Julia at least listened to me. No one else did. And when I was able to leave, she walked with me out to my parents’ car, gave me a hug, and whispered, ‘I’m going to call Kevin the second I get home and tell him we’re never ever hanging out with that guy again. I really thought he was topping off your bottle but then, when you got so sick—I was scared, A.’ My parents were there, sure. But Julia was really there. She always was.”

  And after all that, after I told Laurie about how Julia and I met and how amazing she was, this is what she said. This is what she wanted to know.

  “How did you end up in the hospital?”

  I stared at her. She’d said we were going to talk about Julia, and I had. And that was what she had to say? That? Hadn’t she heard a word I said, hadn’t she gotten how amazing Julia was?

  She’s such a crappy shrink.

  “How did you end up in the hospital?” she asked again.

  I sighed. “Drank too much. Remember, the thing you usually make me talk about?”

  “I know,” she said, and clicked her pen twice. “You said Julia told your parents what happened, that when she was done with her story they were relieved you were all right. What did she say?”

  “That I thought I was drinking soda, but that someone had put a lot of liquor in it.”

  “And they believed this?”

  I laughed. “Duh. It’s my parents. Of course they did.”

  She clicked her pen again. “What really happened?”

  “I just told you. Weren’t you listening?”

  “I’d like it if you’d elaborate a bit more. You did drink a lot, Amy, but this was the first and only time you ended up in the hospital because of it, right?”

  I shrugged.

  Laurie said, “I’d really like to know what happened,” in a soft voice, like I wasn’t talking because I didn’t want to or couldn’t. It was so annoying.

  “Fine. Julia and I were hanging out with Kevin and this guy he sort of knew, okay? And when I went to the bathroom, the guy poured grain alcohol into my vodka.”

  “Why?”

  “Um, because he was an asshole.”

  She clicked her pen.

  “I don’t really know why—I didn’t ask him, you know, but it was probably because he got all pissed off when he tried to get me to go check out the bedrooms with him and I said ‘no way.’”

  “And so then—”

  “Then I came back from the bathroom and drank. I didn’t notice what he’d done until—well, I didn’t notice. I passed out, and when Julia woke me up I started throwing up and couldn’t stop. So she took me to the ER.”

  “I see. Was Julia with the boys when you went to the bathroom?”

  “Guys. They weren’t eleven. God. And yeah, she was. But she was, you know, busy with Kevin and didn’t notice. If she’d noticed…”

  “If she’d noticed, then what?”

  “She would have said something.”

  “What if she did notice?”

  “What?”

  “Is it possible that she knew?”

  “That’s—you—” I couldn’t even talk, I was so angry.

  And what did Laurie do? More freaking pen clicking. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but I’d like you to think about that night. What did you say before you went to the bathroom?”

  “I don’t remember,” I said through clenched teeth.

  But I did. I do. I was bored and not that drunk, had held back because I didn’t like the guy who’d attached himself to me. He was someone Kevin knew a little, which meant absolutely nothing to me because I thought Kevin was a jerk. Plus he had mean eyes.

  After telling him for the fourth time that no, I really didn’t want to go check out the bedrooms with him, I told Julia I wanted to go home. She rolled her eyes but smiled and said, “Okay, fine, have another drink and we’ll go.”

  “Fine,” I said, and did my best to ignore Mean Eyes while I had a swig and then another. And then a few more. After a while, he put his hand on my thigh. I pushed it off and said I was going to the bathroom, knocking Julia’s shoulder as I walked by, hoping she’d get the hint. When I got back Mean Eyes was gone and Julia said, “Got rid of him for you, A. So now ten more minutes is no problem, right?”

  Before I could even answer she’d gone back to making out with Kevin. I went back to drinking, and after a while I remember looking at the bottle and then at my hands and wondering why I could hardly move them when I hadn’t had that much to drink. I told Julia I felt sort of sick, and after that it’s all blank.

  “You’re sure you don’t remember?” Laurie said.

  “No,” I said, and left. I didn’t care if time was up or not. I just wanted to go.

  I found Mom in the waiting room and told her we could leave. The receptionist asked if I wanted to schedule my next appointment.

  I ignored her and said, “Come on, let’s go,” when Mom tried to walk over to her.

  “Amy?” Mom said, looking surprised, and I said, “I can’t come here anymore. I have to see someone else.”

  Mom frowned, and then asked the receptionist if she could talk to Laurie. She went back to her office. She was gone for a long time.

  When she came back out her mouth was shaking the way it does when she’s really upset.

  “See?” I said, and she said, “We’re not switching therapists, Amy.”

  I think she expected me to say something but I didn’t. I didn’t say a word the whole way home, and when we got there I went straight to my room. I had to be by myself. I had to let silence wash away Laurie and her stupid questions.

  I hate that she said such dumb things. I hate her stupid office and her stupid pen clicking. I hate the chair she sits in and the stupid diplomas on her wall, and I really hate her stupid questions. I can’t believe she asked me to talk about Julia and then didn’t listen to a word I said.

  TEN

  WELL, I’VE HAD my very first date. Predictably, it was a total disaster.

  Also, it wasn’t a date at all.


  I’d managed to block out the whole Mel thing—I mean, he didn’t even know where I lived—so when the doorbell rang tonight and Dad answered it, calling out, “Amy?” in a weird voice, I figured—well, I thought maybe Julia’s mother had come by.

  I raced into the hallway. Julia’s mother wasn’t there, but Mel was. And so was Patrick. I stared at them. Mel waved and said, “Hey, ready to go to the movies?” Patrick looked at the floor.

  “You’re going out?” Dad said, his voice even weirder, and then Mom came in behind me and said, “Amy? What’s going on?”

  So then I had to ask my parents if I could go out on a date. In front of my date.

  “But you didn’t tell us about this before,” Mom said at the same time Dad said, “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

  “Well, see…” I didn’t know how to say, “Well, the thing is, I didn’t mean to say yes, but apparently I did. Then I figured that since the guy didn’t know where I lived there was no way he’d show up, and so I was ready for another Friday night at home. Which should be obvious since I’m wearing jeans and a shirt with a ketchup stain.”

  “I meant to,” I finally said. “I just forgot.”

  “So now you want to go out with…” My father looked at Mel, who helpfully supplied his name again. “Who has brought along…” He looked at Patrick, who mumbled his name and leaned against the door like it was the only thing holding him up.

  “Oh, right,” Mel said cheerfully. “You’re wondering about the whole bring-another-guy-along thing, aren’t you?”

  My father looked like he was having a stroke—not that Mel seemed to notice because he just kept talking. “Patrick needs a ride. No car, you know, and so I figured, hey, I can pick up some gas money.” He laughed. No one else did, and now Patrick looked like he was trying to push himself inside the door and hide.

  My parents really didn’t seem impressed by any of this, and for one (very hopeful) second I thought they’d tell me, “No way,” but then they shared a look, and although I think a little bit of it was probably related to some advice they’d gotten from reading Pinewood handouts or talking to Laurie, most of it was about them realizing if I went out they’d have the house to themselves for a while.

  So they told me I could go. Dad did pull me aside before I left, though. He said, “Be home by eleven,” which I didn’t care about because, trust me, not a problem, and then, “Call us if you need anything. Anything at all,” which I did care about because he looked like he really meant it, and he’d never said anything like that to me before.

  My mind was racing as I walked out of the house. Why had Mel shown up? Wasn’t he supposed to be walking with me or something instead of standing by his car tossing his keys from one hand to another and looking oddly proud of himself? What was Patrick doing here? Why hadn’t I at least brushed my hair, or better yet, changed my shirt? I was so busy trying to figure out what was going on that I—of course—walked right into Patrick.

  What is it about him that makes me do stuff like that?

  This time, though, walking into him wasn’t my fault at all. He was standing in the middle of the driveway like he was stuck there but still, it was embarrassing.

  “Sorry,” we both muttered at the same time, and then I forgot all those questions I was asking myself. Why? Because Patrick’s hand brushed against mine and something inside me twitched, shook itself awake. I stared at him and he stared at me, and suddenly my heart was pounding and my skin felt hot and flushed. I didn’t like it at all.

  “The front seat’s kinda crowded,” Mel said, and I swear, his voice actually startled me. For a second I’d forgotten he was there. I’d sort of—well, I’d sort of forgotten everything. Patrick looked pretty startled too, and we both looked away from each other. He stared at the ground. I looked at Mel’s car. The front seat had a huge box sitting on the passenger side.

  “Yeah, the box,” Mel said. “My mom told me to drop it off for some charity thing she’s doing, but I sort of forgot to. Would you mind sitting in the back with Pat—” He broke off and cleared his throat. I looked at him. He was looking at Patrick. They seemed to be having some sort of discussion without talking. It made me think of Julia, and that reminder of how they talked like she and I did, so easily in their own silent language, made my eyes prickle.

  “I’ll just sit in the back, and you can put the box next to me,” I said because I knew what Mel was going to say and there was no way I was going to sit next to Patrick all the way to wherever we were dropping him off.

  So we all got in the car, and there I was, in the backseat with a box. Granted, I have very little dating experience (as in none) but this just didn’t seem like normal date stuff. At all.

  And then, as soon as we left my house, Mel started talking. First he asked how I was doing.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Good,” Mel said, and cleared his throat again. Patrick looked out the window.

  “What about you, Patrick?” Mel said, and Patrick muttered something too softly for me to hear.

  “Well, man, then maybe I will make you pay me gas money,” Mel said, and then sighed.

  I knew then there was no way I was going to make it through whatever this was supposed to be, and started thinking about faking a stomachache as soon as we dropped Patrick off.

  Except we didn’t drop Patrick off.

  Instead, we all went to the movies. As in me and Mel. And Patrick. So it definitely wasn’t a date.

  And then things got worse because when we got there, everyone in my freaking honors classes was there too. Someone called Mel’s name and waved us over after we all got out of the car.

  It was torture. Mel went and got tickets with most of the people, Patrick wandered off to stare at upcoming movie posters like they were the most interesting things he’d ever seen, and I got to stand there with Beth and her followers, including Corn Syrup.

  Beth looked at me, said something about “social retards” just loud enough for me to hear, and then added, “Mel’s just too nice, really.”

  I pretended I was deaf—I wished I was then, that’s for sure—and then Beth dragged everyone into a discussion of whose butt was the biggest. (“Oh, mine is, totally.” “No, mine is!” “No way, mine totally is!”)

  Mel came back with tickets, finally, and said, “Hey, you owe me ten for yours, okay?” as we got in line to get into the theater.

  I dug around in my pockets, feeling for money that I knew wasn’t there and vowing to never agree to anything Mel asked again, while Patrick stood next to Mel on his other side, hands jammed in his pockets and staring at the floor. Beth, who was right behind me, snorted and muttered something to Corn Syrup. I didn’t think Mel heard her, but he must have because he muttered something to Patrick and then told me, “Never mind the money, I got it.”

  When we finally got into the theater Mel and I didn’t even sit next to each other. I ended up in the seat next to the aisle one, Corn Syrup on one side of me and Patrick on the other. Patrick and I shared an armrest, but since neither of us was using it—I was sitting with my arms across my chest, feeling like I was back in middle school just waiting for Beth, Anne Alice, and Caro to decide they were mad at me for something, and Patrick was turned around in his seat, staring up the aisle at the door like he’d somehow forgotten where it was—there wasn’t a problem.

  Mel sat next to Caro, and they, naturally, started arguing over their armrest.

  “I put my arm on it first,” Caro said.

  “No, you didn’t, and besides, touching the armrest doesn’t mean you own it,” Mel said.

  They ended up going at it just like they did in English class, and watching them, it became pretty clear that their arguing was a strange sort of flirting. They were even both doing that lean-in-toward-each-other thing when Beth, who was on Mel’s other side, whispered something in his ear. Caro immediately tossed her hair and pretended to be bored with Mel. It didn’t really work. She mostly looked unhappy.

&nb
sp; Beth leaned back, bumping her arm into Mel’s in a way that was more of a caress, and then whispered something else to him. He laughed, and I wondered why Mel wasn’t dating her, but then the previews started and when Caro jumped during a trailer for a completely unscary horror movie I saw Mel reach one hand out toward her and then stop.

  Now, as Beth so kindly pointed out, I may be a social retard, but even I could guess Mel liked Corn Syrup with that kind of clue. So how come he hadn’t asked Caro to the movies? He didn’t strike me as shy or anything.

  And, more importantly, why had he brought me here?

  By the time the movie started, I felt pretty bad, exhausted and sad and strange, and then something supposedly hilarious happened on-screen—some old guy stumbling around, crashing into things as he had a heart attack, landing with his hands grabbing the cute young girl’s breasts right as he died—and everyone laughed. And there was something about that laughter, that noise—maybe it was all those voices in the dark, or maybe it was just that bits and pieces of all those laughs sounded like Julia’s, like I could almost hear her. Whatever it was, the whole theater suddenly seemed like it wasn’t real, and I was afraid if I moved everything around me would fall away and I’d be lost.

  I felt shaky and weirdly dizzy—not like everything was spinning, but like I was spinning, and I knew it was wrong for me to be there. I shouldn’t be at the movies, even if it was in the middle of a bizarre situation I didn’t get and with a bunch of people I didn’t like. I had to get out. I had to get away and—

  Drink.

  I wanted a drink. I wanted one so bad.

  Somehow I managed to get out of the theater, and as I was wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans and heading to the lobby, I realized I hadn’t had to step over anyone in order to leave. Patrick had left too.

  I thought it was weird, but then Patrick was weird, and then I couldn’t think at all because the unsteadiness came back, the lobby and the crowds of people standing around waiting for their movie to start turning into a spinning blur of color and faces. I had to get out of there. Even more than I wanted a drink, I wanted to go home.