The Shortest Distance Between Love & Hate

by Sandy Hall

  “Here’s the thing you don’t seem to be understanding: The fact that you haven’t seen me in years is all your fault. I was a child. I don’t know why…” I feel like I’ve had this conversation too many times recently. When I had to say the same thing to Paisley, I didn’t know what would come of it. I didn’t know it would actually lead to something good. But having the same conversation with my dad, I just know that this isn’t going to end well. “I don’t know why you can’t see that. You were the grown-up. I was the child.”

  He scrubs his hands across his face. “You’re really going to hate me when I tell you the next part then.”

  “What?” I ask. “You want to tell me all about your wonderful family? Show pictures of how great they are?”

  “No. Paula and I, we’re getting divorced.”

  “Wow, so sad. I hope you can handle juggling two separate estranged families. I’m sure that will be exhausting for you.”

  “All right. You know what, Carter? You’re obviously going to give me attitude no matter what. I’ll stop now.”

  “Good.” I push away my plate even though there’s one gorgeous, glistening piece of French toast still sitting there. I don’t need his pointless excuses or his French toast.

  He pays the check and we leave.

  I make him drop me off a block away from the house.

  “You realize I’ve seen your mother multiple times recently. You’re not keeping her away from me. You were a child back then, but she’s still the grown-up now. She can make her own decisions.”

  I stare at his face and hate how much he looks like me. Do I have in me the kind of coldness that he has in him? What if I’m just like him? What if I hurt Paisley? She doesn’t deserve that.

  I hop out of his truck, shaking with some emotion I can’t place. Before I slam the door shut, I say, “See you in another five years.”

  I go inside and don’t look back.

  -PAISLEY-

  Carter is supposed to pick me up at six o’clock. We were supposed to meet at the mall, but earlier he texted to say he’d pick me up. So here I am standing outside of my condo, actually outside of the complex entirely, so he doesn’t get lost on the labyrinth of streets and culs-de-sac. There’s a chance that my condo complex is a small Bermuda triangle in the middle of New Jersey. There have been tales of people driving around it and never being heard from again.

  I stamp my feet to warm them up. I probably should have put on something warmer than ballet flats. But I liked how they looked with the new T-shirt I made myself. It says “nap it out” in white letters across the front and looks particularly adorable under my bloodred cardigan. I feel like Carter will appreciate this whole look.

  But especially the T-shirt.

  I should make him one too.

  Maybe that’s kind of weird? Like to have matching T-shirts with your sort-of boyfriend? Maybe tonight I’ll finally get up the nerve to ask him if he’s my boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter if he is or isn’t. But I really want to know anyway. It feels like it’s time. I like him so much. I never meant to like him this much.

  I hide my face in my hands as if I can hide my embarrassing thoughts.

  I’ve been having these long, circuitous thought tangents for the past two days. Anything to take my mind off what happened on Monday morning.

  I feel so bad. With him getting fired like that. I want to make sure that Carter knows how much I appreciate it. That his act of self-sacrifice wasn’t lost on me.

  I pace a little and text Carter again. I try to call him, but his phone goes straight to voice mail. It’s too cold to stay out here. Maybe he got a flat tire. And left his phone at home.

  I go back inside and my mom is surprised to see me. Especially since I’ve been gone for over an hour.

  I’m mostly interested in getting the feeling back in my feet and not talking about the fact that I might have been stood up. I want to give Carter the benefit of the doubt, and the best way to do that is to be as vague as possible with my mom.

  I don’t want her to think less of Carter. I want her to like Carter. Which is an interesting reversal of my feelings, all things considered.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Something came up,” I say, the lie coming out easily. “You know, like I said, his mom has been sick.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Well, he didn’t specifically say that,” I say. I’m making excuses and getting nervous, and this is not a great look for me. “I don’t have all the details.”

  “Okay. Well, are you staying home tonight? Maybe we could watch a movie. Hallmark has been playing Christmas stuff for a month already.”

  I smile but don’t commit.

  I need to hide in my room for at minimum a half hour. Just be alone and collect my thoughts. Man, it’s nice to be alone. I forgot about that. I’m around people literally 24-7 at school, and I forgot how much I value alone time.

  I call Carter again, and again it goes right to voice mail.

  I should probably get on with my night and assume everything is fine. There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s a holiday weekend; he probably got trapped hanging out with his family and forgot to bring a charger. He’s always playing those weird games on his phone that eat his battery life right up.

  I’m sure that’s what happened.

  I take another deep breath and text Lizzie and Madison.

  Paisley: So I think I’m free tonight.

  Lizzie: YAY.

  Madison: AWESOME.

  Paisley: I think Carter is standing me up.

  Lizzie: I take back my yay.

  Madison: I will cut him.

  I laugh and feel a little bit better.

  When Madison arrives, she picks me up right in front of my unit so I don’t have to stand outside in the cold for long.

  “Let’s go egg his house,” she says by way of greeting.

  “Actually,” I say, “would you mind taking me to his house? I kind of want to check on him. I’m worried.”

  She and Lizzie exchange a look but do what I ask.

  -CARTER-

  I hear a car pull up outside and I know.

  I’ve been sitting in the dark for most of the afternoon and evening. My mom’s busy cooking in the kitchen and my sister is out for dinner with some friends from high school. I should probably go in and help my mom, but I’m enjoying my wallow. I don’t want to tell her about seeing my dad. I don’t want to talk about it.

  And I definitely forgot about Paisley.

  We were supposed to meet at the mall, but then I decided I would pick her up. It would give me more time to talk to her in the car rather than in the noisy food court.

  But then I just didn’t.

  Over the course of the past couple of hours, I’ve gotten angrier and angrier with her. I was so worried about hurting her earlier, but then I remembered all the ways she hurt me. Leading right up to me losing my job because of her. And now she’s here. Running up to my porch. Like nothing is wrong.

  I know how twisted around my thoughts are, that they’re not following any logical order, but I know I can’t deal with her. I don’t want to deal with her. It’s better for both of us if I make a clean break now. I’m sure of it.

  Just as she’s about to ring the doorbell, I slip outside.

  She’s another thing I don’t want my mother to deal with.

  “Hey,” she says, bright-eyed. She’s bouncy, happy, excited. So different from the Paisley I usually see. It should make me feel warm inside; it should be endearing. Instead I’m pissed off that she can’t tell that I’m in a bad mood.

  “Hey,” I say.

  She kisses my cheek. “Um, did you forget about me?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” I say, barely containing my urge to swipe away her kiss.

  “What’s up? Do you want to come with my high school friends and me to a party?” She gestures over her shoulder at the car parked in front of the house. “I thought maybe you weren’t into the mall. So w
e could do this instead.”

  She’s giving me an out. I could take the out. She’d already forgiven me for standing her up.

  “No thanks.”

  “Just no thanks?” she asks with an eyebrow raise.

  “I’m not into it.”

  Her face darkens a bit in the porch light. “What’s up? Are you okay? Is it your mom?”

  “Nope, I don’t want to hang out with your high school friends,” I say, my voice sounding nastier than I meant it to.

  “Hey, you’re the one who stood me up. Is it your dad?”

  “Oh my god, Paisley! Stop poking, stop prodding! I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She winces back and away from me, but I can’t help it. I don’t have any control over this moment.

  “I don’t want to make excuses. I don’t want to explain myself.”

  “You always say you hate excuses, but there’s a difference between reasons and excuses, Carter. Grow up and realize that.” Her nose is red from the cold, and I can’t feel my feet since I walked out here with only my socks on, but that doesn’t stop my face from growing hot with rage.

  “Fine, you want to hear some reasons? Here are the reasons I bullied Henry in middle school. My sister left for college, my grandma died, my parents were getting divorced. Suffice to say, it was a hard year. I cried all the time. And then I found out that not only were my parents getting divorced, but also my dad had a secret family, like a wife and a baby. Or not a wife, he wasn’t married to her. But whenever he was supposedly traveling for work, he wasn’t really traveling for work. He was with them.”

  She’s obviously surprised. And my voice is getting louder and louder.

  “But mostly, Paisley, I was a little shit. Only a little shit would act like that, treat someone like Henry that way completely unprovoked. And I don’t think I’ve changed much since then. I don’t think you need me around. And I don’t think I want to be around you either. Because you’re shitty too. We’d end up being shitty to each other.” It’s like a light bulb going off in my head. The truth of this statement makes my veins buzz with anger.

  “What?” She looks so sad I almost take it all back.

  “You heard me,” I say. “Leave me alone.”

  “If you would tell me what’s wrong. What I did. Maybe I can make it right.”

  “This isn’t about you. Everything isn’t about Paisley. Just go away.”

  She blinks at me, hard, a bunch of times. It’s like kicking a puppy but it’s better this way. For some reason that eludes me at the moment. But I know it’s the way it has to be.

  “It seems like it’s about me. You just made it about me.”

  “It’s not just about you,” I amend. And then I go in for the kill. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

  “Fine, Carter. Fine. Whatever you say.”

  She turns on her heel and leaves.

  I head back inside. Rather than going to my room and hiding under the covers, I go into the bright warmth of the kitchen and start peeling potatoes.

  I have more important things to deal with than Paisley Turner.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  -PAISLEY-

  I ask Lizzie and Madison to bring me home. I can’t face the party. And they do it, without question. They don’t even make me talk about what happened with Carter. I have a feeling they had the windows open to listen in anyway. I’m sure they were nearly as shocked as I was by what happened.

  They exchange several more glances as they drive me home. I imagine that’s what it’s like to have two parents. Certainly, not anything I would know or understand. I’m sure that’s what Carter was thinking when he blew me off.

  Because that’s all it was. He just blew me off. He had a bad day. There was nothing permanent about this argument.

  As I lug myself back up the steps to my home for the second time tonight, I try to imagine what I’m going to tell my mother. I told her I was going to a party with Lizzie and Madison and that I’d be home late. Instead, I’m here. And it’s only after nine o’clock. And I’m so embarrassed.

  Luckily my mom is dozing on the couch and probably doesn’t even realize what time it is.

  “Night, Mom,” I say.

  “Night, sweetheart,” she mumbles, rolling over to move closer into the pillows on the sofa.

  I take a long shower and try to will myself to cry. I don’t cry very easily, but there’s a first time for everything. Isn’t it supposed to be cathartic?

  I have no choice but to go into mourning for the rest of the weekend. I have to go to my grandma’s with my mom the next day, but that’s easy enough. My aunt is there with her new baby, and everyone’s attention is on them. It’s almost too easy to hide in the family room and watch whatever’s on TV.

  The next day, I do even better. I speak to no one. I go so far as to turn my phone off. It feels good knowing that no one can get in touch with me. It’s exactly what I need.

  -CARTER-

  I’m out picking up ice cream on Friday night for Thea because apparently that’s what I do now. She had a craving and asked if I’d run out. It’s kind of a hard thing to say no to since I barely ever get to drive anymore. And I kind of love to drive. It clears my head.

  My head could use some clearing.

  I don’t exactly know why I freaked out on Paisley the way I did. I don’t know how to fix things. I don’t know that I even want to fix things. The fact that I could get so angry, that I could go from zero to sixty just because.

  It feels like it has something to do with the fact that she showed up unexpectedly on the same porch that my dad showed up unexpectedly on just a few hours earlier. It was like I needed to punish her for that. But that wasn’t Paisley’s fault. That was my dad’s fault.

  I sigh audibly as I pull into the parking lot of the ice cream place. It’s in the same strip mall as a Starbucks. There’s someone pacing outside of it.

  Someone familiar.

  Someone, thankfully, not Paisley.

  Henry Lai is walking back and forth in front of Starbucks, moving quickly, running his hands through his hair so it sticks straight up.

  I approach him slowly. Something’s wrong, but I don’t know what and it feels like there are too many variables. I don’t want to upset him further.

  “Hey, Henry,” I say as I approach.

  He looks over at me, recognition registering on his face. I wonder if he would have recognized me if he hadn’t seen me a couple weeks ago. Or if I would have been so far out of context to him that he wouldn’t recognize me. Like when Paisley saw me the first night of school and thought I was a stranger.

  This isn’t about Paisley.

  Henry shakes his head at me. “I can’t get Paisley to answer her phone.”

  Except, of course it’s about Paisley.

  I give him a questioning look. “What?”

  He breathes deeply and leans on the brick facade of the building, his hands on his knees.

  “There’s just some stuff going on and Paisley is the only person who knows about it, but her phone is off or dead or something. And she’s not answering. And I need to talk to her.”

  When I step closer, I can see fine beads of sweat on his forehead. He’s trembling all over.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  “Are you having a panic attack?”

  He nods this time, squeezing his eyes shut.

  “Is your car here?”

  He shakes his head again. “I walked. I walked really far. I was on the phone and I didn’t realize how far I went.”

  “So something bad happened. You got a phone call that upset you.”

  “I did,” he said, his breath coming in ragged bursts now. “But don’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want to tell you. I need to talk to Paisley.”

  “Paisley’s not answering her phone, remember?”

  “Maybe if you call her. Maybe she’s tired of talking to me.”

  I shake my head. “She�
��s not going to answer for me either right now.”

  He doesn’t seem to think it’s odd that I know that. I can see his teeth dig into his bottom lip like it’s the only way to keep from crying, or howling, or both.

  “Can I take you home?” I ask.

  “I can’t go home. My mom can’t see me like this. She can’t know what was going on. I don’t know where to go. I need to talk to Paisley.”

  Of course he does. I think of a million other things to do with Henry. I could stick him in an Uber. Or drive him somewhere besides home. I could take him back to my house.

  “All right. I’ll take you to Paisley.” I haven’t forgotten about Thea’s ice cream, so I shoot her a text that it’s going to take a few extra minutes.

  Thea: It better not melt on the way home!

  Carter: It’s thirty degrees out. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

  I help Henry get settled in the passenger seat. He radiates cold, like he’s nearly frozen through in his light jacket. He must have been outside for an awfully long time.

  “She didn’t answer,” Henry repeats in the car, staring out the window.

  “Paisley?” I ask, but I don’t even wait for him to respond. “That’s probably more my fault than yours. I think she might have her phone off. We had a fight.” Or maybe I’m giving myself too much credit. Maybe her phone is dead or on silent. Maybe she’s at the movies.

  Maybe Paisley has already gone back to being aloof, emotionless Paisley. That’d be better for everyone involved. Though it’s super dick of her not to be answering Henry.

  That doesn’t seem like her. She’s never been that aloof. Henry has always been her soft spot.

  Henry gives me stuttered directions on how to get to Paisley’s house, and I can’t help thinking about how I was supposed to meet her there the other night. That was my fault. But somehow it feels like hers.

  When Henry tells me which building is Paisley’s, I pull up out front. He struggles with the seat belt and then the door handle, and I realize I should probably help him. I really don’t want to see Paisley, but I also don’t want to see Henry fall on his ass. His legs are like Jell-O.