Better Late Than Never

by Ghiselle St. James

  He slaps a hand on his son’s shoulders then does the unthinkable…

  Hugs him.

  Mrs. Moxam gasps, hand to her mouth and I watch tears well in her eyes. Kyle stands ramrod straight, fists balling, but doesn’t move away. Mr. Moxam continues to embrace his son and slowly, ever so slowly, Kyle relaxes, and his arms come around his Dad. They hug for a minute, but in their reality, a lifetime. When they pull away, Mr. Moxam is wiping his eyes and Kyle is sniffling.

  “I’ve never told you how proud I am of you, son,” Mr. Moxam says tearfully. “But I am. You are everything I could wish for in a son and I’m sorry I’ve never told you that.”

  “All I’ve ever wanted was your approval, Dad,” Kyle confesses, and my heart twinges with the pain he has been feeling all this time.

  “You shouldn’t want it, son, but I’m sorry I never gave it to you and more.”

  Tears rush to my eyes seeing this and I turn my head away. Feeling like I’m intruding on their moment, I step away, fully intending to give them privacy…and escape any awkward dialogues with Kyle, but Mr. Moxam turns to me, then wraps me into another hug.

  “Thank you,” he says before letting me go and going over to my family to catch up…leaving me and Kyle alone.

  Baseball friends and fans come up to him and snap pictures and get his autograph for their yearbook. Groupies try to get his attention, but he is focused on me and I feel everything – the weight of his stare, the heat in his gaze, and the depth of something else akin to what I’m feeling. Is it desperation?

  How do I go the rest of my life without him?

  “Thank you,” he tells me, the weight of what just happened sitting heavily in those two words. “My Dad…”

  “I know,” I hush him. He doesn’t need to tell me what I already know, what he has ranted about to me so many times.

  I am just glad they can see each other now; that they have mended fences.

  We exchange year books and sign, both of us writing more than the routine “See ya” that everyone seems to write in these things. Kyle takes another round of pictures with the jocks and signs a few more yearbooks. Then we are alone again. As alone as two people can be with a crowd of people all around us.

  Yet, Kyle and I could always manage that. Once we are in the same room, in the same vicinity; even if we aren’t speaking to each other, it’s always just us. My body bows toward him, desperate to hug him, to feel him, but and I clutch it back, wrapping my arms around my torso. His body leans closer mine, as if being pulled by the same cosmic force tethering me toward him. But he holds a hand up, waving to someone behind me who ends up bumping his fist.

  Disappointment seizes me in a tight fist because, God help me, I wanted him to hug me. I need to get a grip.

  My fingers nervously clutch the globe pendant around my neck, becoming an unconscious substitute for me nervously grabbing my hair. Kyle’s eyes catch it and then he is reaching for it. The world looks so small between his fingertips, yet, against his skin it looks all the better.

  “It’s like it was made for you,” he murmurs as if in awe.

  “I’d like to think so,” I agree with a smile, thinking of my grandmother. “I’m never taking it off.”

  His eyes snap up to mine in that instant, holding me in an amazed stare, and you would think that I told him I was going to blow him right here and now. And maybe I would…if my Dad didn’t break our spell by congratulating Kyle on his scholarship.

  The rest of the evening is memorable, what with our families combining to have dinner together. Grayson is also here with his parents and they are a riot. We laugh. We joke. We duck our heads in embarrassment as our families tell stories about us that we would much rather forget. We glow as they wish us the best on our College journeys, and we tear up – well, I cry – when Joy gets emotional telling her brother that she will miss him.

  At the end of the night, my emotions are all over the place. So, when Kyle pulls me into the supply room of the restaurant, my already brittle nerves shatter. I was hoping to leave this gathering unscathed; was hoping that my heart would still be intact. But it would not have been Kyle and me if we didn’t end this night with a bang of confusion and unrequited feelings.

  Although what we feel is anything but unreciprocated by either of us.

  “You wanted to hug me today,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “Kyle,” I plead with him. Please just leave it alone.

  “That pull, Sav, I felt it too,” he confesses with an ache in his voice that rips me in two. Damn him!

  The tears flow, my heart taking the pain. “Kyle,” I sob. “Please don’t.”

  The plea dies on my lips when I see the torture in his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days and the weariness in his body mirrors my own. This push and pull between us has been nothing short of maddening. The chord that tethers us is hanging by a thread, precariously dangling as we let more and more things sever the ties that bind.

  I start to beat his chest, cursing the day I ever met him, “Why can’t you let me be? You’re so goddamn selfish! I hate you! I hate you! Just let me be…”

  Lies and vain requests are all they are.

  In the midst of my tirade, Kyle grabs me and plants a kiss on my lips so deep and hard that I have no choice but to give in. How long have I wanted him to throw caution to the wind? How long have I needed to feel his lips on mine again? Tears burst free but I am kissing him back with equal force. There’s something about this moment, this kiss. His face is wet with his own tears as he kisses me like this is the last time.

  But it can’t be the last time.

  I haven’t stopped loving him yet.

  Chapter Eleven – Say It Ain’t So!

  Savi – Present

  GRAYSON AND I don’t speak for the rest of the drive to my apartment. Instead, we let the music make us come undone as the rock song says, if even just in our minds. Just thinking about the decision I have to make has me coming undone and falling apart at the seams. I hold myself tighter, if only to keep my feelings in check until I can let them go in my bathtub with a good, ole cry. I don’t do that often, but when I do, I prefer it to be in style, covered in bubbles and expensive bath scents…and wine, lots of wine.

  When we pull up to my building, a white car peels away in haste, tires screeching as it does. Probably one of my neighbor’s many “suitors”. I’ve seen strange cars parked up at my building, sometimes idling a few feet away. It usually doesn’t give me the creeps since I know how “free” my neighbor can be with her “love”. She usually has a revolving door of lovers, not that it bothers me…much.

  Grayson walks me in, wanting to make sure that I am safe. When I get to my door, I roll my eyes. Yet another welcome sign with SLUT in big, bold red lettering pasted on my door. I had been getting these for a while now, and if I weren’t sure, I’d think I was in high school again. I haven’t the energy to deal with this shit, so I search my purse for my keys. Grayson rips the sign down and inclines his head to the apartment two doors down on the opposite side of me in question.

  He knows the various run-ins I have had with her and knows that only she would do some childish shit like this. Exhausted and still drunk, I can only manage a nod. Stomping over to her door, he carefully pastes the same sign on her door and returns to my side.

  I chuckle because, seriously, I have the best friends. “My hero,” I praise, batting my lashes.

  “She’s lucky it’s so late and that you’re so drunk,” he threatens, knowing all the damage that we can and have done together. She’s lucky I fucking found Jesus…

  Or grew up. Whatever.

  Grayson ensures I am safe and situated before he leaves. After locking up, I take a shower and climb tiredly into bed. The whiskey and the day coalesce and descend on me in a heap. I am an emotional ball of woman right now. I reflect on the day and all Grayson said and a tear slips from my eye in resignation. I hold my index finger up where Kyle and I got matching anchor tattoos and I sigh he
avy-heartedly.

  I’m going to plan my best friend’s wedding, and then I will let him go. It won’t be the first time I say that I’m letting go. Let’s just hope it sticks this time.

  Savi – Past

  May 2008

  I had no illusions that Kyle and I would miraculously get together after kissing in the supply closet last night. Our story has been an awkward dance of wills from the very beginning. We had not said it then, but we’d stared into each other’s eyes for more than a minute before leaving that supply room utterly changed and deeply heartbroken.

  We parted ways that night with a hug and a kiss to the other’s cheek, and then I went home where I silently cried myself to sleep while my grandmother held me. The next morning, I was hit with resolve. I was going to start my new life without my best friend.

  And then I freaked the fuck out because, what was life without Kyle, at the very least, being in my orbit looking out for me?

  My cell phone rings out on my study table and I shake out of my stoic state. I have been staring at my ceiling ever since I woke up contemplating the issues of life…and how long I can hold this pee.

  “Hey, Grayson,” I answer without looking at the screen. I know his ringtone.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Huh? Why wouldn’t I be?” I will not admit that he knows me any better than Kyle does.

  “He left today.”

  Three words. Just three words are enough to make every bit of hope inside me die. He’s gone.

  “What?”

  “They start sports camps early at Duchannes,” he explains, and I know he is gauging my reaction.

  “Oh.” Because what else is there to say?

  “Did he try to call you at all? Did he tell you last night while y’all were in the supply closet?” he questions.

  It doesn’t surprise me anymore that Grayson knows things about Kyle and me, things I bet he wishes he didn’t. Like the fact that Kyle took my virginity. He listened to a bunch of gospel music for a whole week to “purge his soul” after figuring out that little tidbit and hearing me re-tell it.

  “I wish he did,” I whisper, tears building in my eyes. “It would sure make hearing it today easier.”

  “Would it?” He knows me so well, but far be it from me to admit it.

  “No.” The dam opens and I cry, which is all I seem to do for the past few days.

  Grayson stays on the line and listens to me purge my soul; being the friend that I need at that moment.

  I allow myself to cry for another few minutes before hanging up with Grayson and finally going to the bathroom. Kyle’s sudden departure is not the only surprise I get that morning. My period has made her appearance by stabbing me in the vagina and kicking me in the stomach, and – surprise, surprise – I am on my last pad.

  Walking down the feminine hygiene aisle at the pharmacy, I stop in front of the myriad of pads they have. Choosing one is worse than taking the SATs. There are so many possible answers to the bloody situation, but there can be only one – like Jet Li in that movie. Mom usually buys these things for me, but she and Aunt Reggie are out, so here I am.

  I reach after one that reads “Maxi”; just wanting to take one and run, when someone asks behind me, “What kind of flow do you have?”

  Startled, I spin around and the Maxi pad goes flying out of my hands, hitting the person in the face.

  “Shit! I am so sorry!” I hurry out, picking up the offending packet.

  When I straighten, I jolt, seeing Becky in front of me. She looks better, much better. Her hair is now a bob and she has obviously lost some weight, but she looks supple. Beautiful. I remember that I had not seen her yesterday at graduation and wonder why for a moment.

  “Hi,” I squeak out. Why my voice squeaks is beyond me.

  “Hey,” she says back, smiling.

  We stand in the most awkward of silences – Becky looking at me with this weird smile on her face and me looking everywhere else.

  “So, um, I didn’t see you at grad yesterday,” I mention, breaking the silence between us.

  “Yeah…”

  I think she won’t answer me, but then she does, and it isn’t at all what I expected her to say.

  “I did my last chemo treatment yesterday.”

  The bomb she just dropped is of Hiroshima proportions. It makes my heartbreak and distress over Kyle seem miniscule in comparison. I look at her with new eyes. She is so goddamn strong.

  “All being well, my next doctor’s appointment should show my lupus in remission.” She is smiling, looking as victorious as her news, and here I am, sad and wanting to hug her and tell her it is going to be okay.

  “Wow, Becky, wow.” I sound backward, but really, what do you say to something like that?

  “I “wow” myself sometimes too,” she agrees, smiling.

  “How did – why didn’t you tell anyone?” I ask, curious.

  “Kyle knew,” she answers, not realizing that that little tidbit feels like a stab in the gut. “I told him not to tell anyone,” she rushes to add, as if she knows what I’m thinking. “My best friends knew too and, of course, my parents. They had to tell the Principal and my teachers, too. So, on the days I was absent, assignments were sent home to me. That’s how I ended up completing in time for graduation.”

  Talk about strength of character and a fighting spirit. I was so busy hating her for stealing my best friend that I could not see this strong, amazing side to her.

  “You’re so fucking strong, Becky,” I tell her, because she is.

  “Thank you.”

  We both walk to the checkout counter, me with a huge pack of overnight pads, and her with a smile and her prescription pills. We end up having lunch that afternoon, getting to know each other a little more.

  I like her. Goddamn it.

  “Now I see why Kyle loves you so much,” I admit, painfully.

  “I hardly think so, honey,” she dismisses. “Not in the way he loves you.”

  “Um, no. What’re you talking about?” I argue, a little too high-pitched.

  I start sucking on the straw, emptying the contents of my Slurpee, and battling brain freeze. The guilt assaulting me has my face flaming. If she knows that her boyfriend and I slept together, I am positive she’ll try to shank me…or punch me in the tit. Either one will hurt.

  “You don’t know, do you?” she marvels as if surprised. Hell, I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to choke me yet!

  “He’s your boyfriend, Becky,” I remind her, and myself. “And he’s my best friend.” Well, former best friend.

  “Boyfriend?” she questions, confused. “Sav, I broke up with Kyle last Thanksgiving. Well, to be fair, he broke up with me early that June; before my diagnosis. I just made it official.”

  The relief that I should feel doesn’t come. I’m not a homewrecker, I should be happy. Kyle is single, and I should be halfway to his campus right now, ready to rip his clothes off. But all I can think about is the fact that they have been broken up for months, maybe technically a year…

  And he didn’t tell me.

  Not once.

  I start to say something, I don’t know what, and then think better of it. Tears rush to my eyes and I bite them back. He doesn’t deserve them.

  “Oh no. He didn’t tell you, did he?” Becky reaches her hand out and lays it on top of mine.

  I should throw her hand off. She is the reason behind all of this mess. Yet, I feel like she is just as much a victim as I am. She fell in love with a boy who couldn’t love her back.

  “I-it’s fine,” I try to convince…myself, I guess.

  She stares at me with so much pity that I want to tell her to stuff it, but I cannot find words that won’t be drowned by tears.

  “Why wouldn’t he tell you? I just don’t get it.”

  Her guess is as good as mine.

  “I…I need to go,” I rush out, gathering my things.

  “No, don’t go, Savi. Not like this. I’ll tell him to talk
to you,” Becky begs desperately, but I’m done…

  With this conversation and with Kyle Anthony Moxam.

  Say it ain’t so!

  It is so, I try to tell my heart.

  August 2008

  As quickly as the summer started, it has come to an end. It is bittersweet and scary, but I’m starting this new chapter in my life fresh. I got through my birthday and the aching emptiness that not having my best friend around caused.

  This summer has taught me so much though – like the fact that I can survive without Kyle even if I don’t like it, and not to judge a book by its cover. The latter has been the most surprising.

  Becky and her friends have turned out to be the girlfriends I did not know I needed. They aren’t as vapid as I thought and are actually very cool to hang out with. I never thought that there would come a day when I would hang out with girls and not feel like slitting my wrists.

  Go figure.

  “God, I’m gonna miss you, weirdo,” Becky tells me while she lies on my bed, flipping through the only magazine that I have.

  Kelly, Lisa, and Monica – her and now my friends – are helping me pack while her lazy ass is using her Lupus as an excuse. I’d probably do the same thing.

  “We both know that I’m gonna end up blocking you as soon as I make it to campus, with your stalker ass,” I joke, before throwing a wadded-up sock at her. “You won’t have time to miss me because you’re not gonna allow it.”

  “That better be clean!” she yells, throwing the sock back at me.

  “I think that was from the “super dirty” pile, Becks,” Kelly says with a straight face.

  The room is silent as Becky stares at me with multiple deaths in her eyes.

  “Psyche!” Kelly bursts out, making us all laugh. Well, all except Becky.

  “Oh, come on, Becky,” I appeal to her. She has been so sensitive since I told her I was leaving.

  “Don’t “come on, Becky” me,” she huffs. “I still don’t see why you can’t get a transfer here. At least then you won’t be too far away when I go.”