“I would,” Sam says, all of the anger rushing out of him, his shoulders dropping as a heavy weight settles down on them. A weight that I recognize. Then… he confirms it. “I loved her too. Really loved her. And I would never let her go.”
We stare at each other, his words knocking me speechless. But he isn’t done.
“You don’t deserve her, Kyle,” he says, his voice low. “You never did.”
He turns and stalks off the field, his broad shoulders fading farther and farther away into the distance. I watch Sam disappear completely from view, my head spinning.
Sam loved Kimberly?
I see it now, the pieces clicking into place. The way he would stand behind her protectively. The way he always deferred to her. How broken he was after she died.
How the hell did I miss it? How, in all these years, did I not notice that my best friend was in love with my girlfriend?
The other guys act like they weren’t watching the fight go down. No one comes over, and I don’t expect them to. I haven’t been close to any of these guys for a long time. I didn’t see it until now, but when I left the team, I left them behind too.
Everyone but Kim and Sam.
So how did I not notice he loved her?
Because I was selfish.
The words ring around my head, crystal clear. Painfully true.
All I did was see the world, my friends, my girlfriend, through my lens. I didn’t once bother seeing it through any of theirs.
* * *
Later that night, Mom finds me in my room, my eyes fixed on a small dot on the ceiling.
“You wore it, you help fold it,” she says, dropping the laundry basket on the floor by my door. I groan and roll out of bed to follow her upstairs, one hand clutching a bag of frozen peas to my bruised side, the other juggling the basket.
Mom keeps glancing at me as the two of us start folding together in her bedroom.
“I thought this was supposed to be a touch game.”
“It was for me. Sam, though…”
I didn’t plan on saying anything, but my mind hasn’t stopped going over it all. So I tell her everything. About the fight. And Marley.
“Sam’s right,” I say after a moment of silence, a worn Ambrose High football sweatshirt in my hand. “Maybe I never deserved Kim at all. Maybe she was too good for me.”
“What does Sam know?” she says, rolling up a pair of socks and tossing them at me. “You’re allowed to have other friends. Even other… more than friends.”
My stomach lurches, but I can’t go there right now. I can’t stop thinking about what Sam said. “He was in love with Kim,” I say finally, expecting her to look up. To be surprised. But instead she nods. She knew. This whole time, was I the only one oblivious to it?
Did Kim know?
It’s just another question I’ll never be able to ask her.
I watch as Mom folds a towel, her face becoming thoughtful. “So… what are you going to do?” she asks.
“About what?”
Mom rolls her eyes at my lack of response.
“You’re a hopeless romantic, honey. I’ve watched you with Kimberly since you were eight years old. Once you set your heart on her, no one else would do, even when you drove each other crazy,” she says finally. “But because of that, you never let yourself imagine your life without her. You always centered everything around her, and… that’s a lot of pressure in a relationship. A lot of pressure on a person who’s still figuring out who they are.”
“Mom—” I start to say.
“Just listen. Why did you get Kim that bracelet?”
“Because I loved her,” I say adamantly. “I wanted to show her how much I loved her.” She just stares and raises one of her eyebrows like she’s waiting for me to continue. I let out a long exhale, looking away as I slowly fold a pair of sweatpants. “And… because I could tell something was up. I thought the bracelet would remind her of everything we’d already made it through. Show her we could fix whatever was wrong.”
She nods. “You were always trying to fix things instead of thinking about why they were broken. It’s hard to build anything if the foundation has cracks.” She pauses to grab another shirt. “And that doesn’t mean that you two didn’t love each other. It just means that maybe you two were operating on two different wavelengths.”
Operating on different wavelengths. Sometimes when we’d fight, it really did feel like we weren’t having the same conversation. I think about that night. Our conversation in the car. Were we on the same page then?
How many times were we on different pages without even realizing it?
“Kim’s always going to be part of you, Kyle, but you have to live your own life. She doesn’t get a say anymore. You’ve got a lot of days ahead of you. They could all be like this one, folding laundry with your sweet, devoted mother.…” She folds a shirt while my hands remain frozen, clutching mismatched socks. “Or you could try to live your life without her, allow yourself to really live,” she says, looking up at me. “See where the wind takes you.”
I smile, but I’m silent for a moment, reaching out to take a pair of jeans. That’s what Kim said. Exactly what she said. Kim wanted to see who we were without each other too.
She’d realized it. Mom had realized it.
It was me who hadn’t.
This time, though, it makes sense. This time… I might actually understand.
And with that understanding comes the realization that Sam’s both right and wrong at the same time.
We do need to remember Kim. And… well, it would be impossible to forget her even if I tried. She’s tangled up in every part of who I’ve been. I wouldn’t be here without her.
But we can’t be stuck, immobilized without her. Immobilized by what she wanted.
We have to figure it out for ourselves now.
“I’ve been talking to Marley about what I might want to do. Since football is out now,” I say slowly, and Mom’s eyes light up instantly. “Do you think I’d be a good sportswriter? I thought I could take a class or maybe apply for an internship or something.”
“I think you’d be a great sportswriter.” She smiles, looking happier than I’ve seen her since… before. “And I think anyone who can help you find your way forward is a good person to have in your life.”
She scoops up an armful of towels, calling over her shoulder as she heads toward her bathroom, “Guess I’ll have to find a new laundry partner.”
* * *
The next morning, I pack up the box of Kimberly’s stuff and carry it upstairs. Mom follows just behind me, her hand wrapping gently around my arm when I make it to the entryway.
“Are you sure about this, honey?” she asks, turning me to face her.
I nod, looking up from the box to meet her questioning gaze. “I’m sure.”
She pulls me into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around me. I lean into it. I need to do this to start moving forward. Whether that’s getting an internship or mending things with Sam or… anything else.
The memories of that night aren’t the ones I want to hold on to. I have to let go of the guilt. I have to stop trying to keep her boxed up here with me.
Gently, I lay a hand on top of the box, one last goodbye, before handing it to Mom to give back to Kim’s parents. As she turns, I feel the heaviness of the charm bracelet in my pocket. The final reminder of that fateful night.
The one I didn’t think I could let go of.
“Wait,” I say as I pull it out, the metal charms clinking together. It hurts to let it go, but as I gently place it inside the box, a weight lifts off my chest and lets me take my first deep breath in almost four months.
16
I lie on my back on the grass a few days later, watching the sunlight trickle through the tree branches, the sparkling light dancing in front of my vision. Marley and I meet up at noon to feed the ducks like we usually do, the warm late-September weather leading us to the cherry blossom tree, the petals fading no
w to an off-white.
“What are you thinking about?” Marley asks from next to me.
“Just…” I take a deep breath. “Sam.”
Talking to my mom helped me figure out a lot of shit, but it didn’t fix anything with Sam. And I still can’t figure out how to talk to him about it.
I turn to look at her, the sunlight casting a warm glow on her face, making her hazel eyes bright, the color giving way to a glowing green around her pupil. She reaches out toward my face, and I find myself wondering what it would be like if she touched me.
Instead, she plucks a dandelion from between us and gives it a sniff. The guilt rises up, but without much strength, like it’s too exhausted to keep fighting. Maybe I am too. But Sam’s hurt face doesn’t recede from my mind.
“We got into a fight this weekend. I—I haven’t been a very good friend to him since Kim died. I wasn’t being honest with him.…” I pause and let out a long sigh. “Or with myself.”
“It’s hard to be the one who messes up, isn’t it?” she says, her face growing sad.
I push myself up onto my arm. It takes a lot for Marley to open up. She notices my reaction and offers a weak smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It’s funny. I was always quiet. Super shy. To the point that sometimes Laura even spoke for me.” She looks away, in the direction of the cemetery. “She always knew what I wanted to say. Maybe because we were twins.”
She’s always avoided talking about her sister. No sad stories. This is big for her.
“We were identical. In almost every way,” Marley says, and the dark cloud behind her eyes comes over her. From the furrow in her brow to the battered hunch of her shoulders, it consumes her. It’s like an entirely different person is sitting in front of me. “When I lost her, I lost my voice. But now, with you…” She stops, looking back at me, her eyes clearing just the tiniest bit. “I feel like talking again.”
“Talk all you want,” I say. “I’m here for it.” There’s a magic in this moment where she’s letting me in, and I don’t want to break that spell, so even though I want to take her hand and comfort her, I don’t.
She twists the dandelion around in between her fingers. “A life without Laura,” she says, her voice soft. “It feels more impossible the longer she’s gone. It feels wrong.”
I wait a little while, but she doesn’t say anything more.
“I get that,” I say, sitting up. And I do. Everything about life after the accident has felt wrong. Except this. “But maybe we can both try to find something that makes it feel a little less wrong. Together.”
“How?” she asks.
The words hover on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t know where to begin. Then I think of how we met that day in the cemetery, an idea coming to mind. “Stories. You said we could both be storytellers, right?”
She nods, her face thoughtful.
“Well, I want to hear one of yours,” I say. She straightens up and crosses her arms. “All I got that first day was ‘Once upon a time.’ ”
“No way,” she says, her shoulders tense. “I have no idea if they’re good or not. I mean, what if you hate them?”
“I’ll love them. I know I will,” I promise her.
“You can’t promise something like that,” Marley says with a laugh.
“Please?” I ask, and I can see the hesitation in her face. The silence stretches between us until she finally breaks it, letting out a long, dramatic sigh.
“Okay… but only if I get to read some of your stuff too.”
I’m so happy she said yes that I’m already nodding before I realize what I’ve agreed to.
Damn, she’s good.
She holds up her pinky. I wrap mine around it, promising. Our hands linger, fingers sliding toward wrists until her hand is completely in mine.
It feels like waking up again. Every fiber in me feels alive, wanting me to close the gap between us, the smallest shift an earthquake.
“Marley…,” I start to say, but she quickly pulls away, her eyes lingering on my lips.
“Do you feel that?” she whispers.
I do. The air around us buzzes, the space between us crackling.
I reach out to take her hand again, but just as my fingers meet hers, she moves away from me, pulling herself out of the moment. She stands quickly and brushes off her clothes, abruptly stuffing her hands into her jean jacket. “I should go.”
“Marley,” I say, collecting myself. “You don’t have to go.”
She starts walking away, her yellow shoes standing out against the green of the grass.
“This is a sad story waiting to happen,” she mumbles, her voice barely audible. When she gets to the path, she turns to look at me. “Just friends, Kyle,” she calls to me. “That was the deal.”
I nod, watching as she leaves, disappearing between the trees. I look down to see one yellow dandelion sitting next to me.
I pick it up, wondering what it would have been like to kiss her just now, her eyes on my lips a moment ago. Maybe Sam was right about something else.
Do I really want to be just friends with Marley?
* * *
On Thursday morning I walk to the cemetery. I still have a lot to figure out, but I think I finally have the right words to say to her. To Kimberly.
I stop short when I see a figure kneeling at her graveside, a long arm reaching out to place a big bouquet of tulips against the headstone.
Sam.
Of course.
“The tulips,” I say as I come closer. “They were from you.”
“They were her favorite,” he says, his eyes focused on the headstone. KIMBERLY NICOLE BROOKS.
I kneel on my stiff leg and run my hand across the uneven stone.
“It’s not fair,” Sam says, watching me. “You’re moving on. She can’t. That might be a dick thing to say, but…”
“I get it, Sam. Trust me, I’ve felt like a dick constantly. Going to get ice cream. Watching movies on my couch. Even laughing. It all felt wrong, doing it without her. But if that’s true, the two of us will spend the rest of our lives stuck right here,” I say, gesturing to the cemetery around us, to Kimberly’s headstone.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t stop me either.
“I finally realized what Kimberly was saying. I didn’t get it before. I didn’t listen to her before. But I finally, after all this time, understand what she wanted from me. For me. The best thing I can do to honor her is to stand on my own, Sam. Like she wanted. I need to let go.” I pause, looking at him for a long moment, realizing he needs this just as much as I do. “So do you.”
He pushes himself up onto his feet while I struggle to get to mine. When our eyes are level, he gives me a long look, before glancing guiltily away. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding as I think of his words at the park. “A lot of things make sense now. How you always defended her. Took her side.”
“I took your side too,” Sam says. “I never went after her. I never told her how I felt.”
“You never told me, either,” I say. “You could have.”
“Would it have changed anything?” he asks.
I shake my head, knowing the truth. “Probably not.”
He smiles at that, and I know both of us are hearing her voice in our heads. Not in a brain-injury way, though. Not this time.
“But,” I continue, “I think it changes something now. I see the truth in what you said before. We have to be honest with ourselves.”
We stare at each other, unsure of where to go from here. We opt for a quick bro hug, and then Sam nudges my arm, giving me a wry smile. “Wonder what your mom did with that beer?” he asks.
I nod toward the path, grinning back at him. “You want to find out?”
We walk together out of the graveyard, just the two of us. Even though I was talking to Sam, I’m sure Kim was there. I feel like she heard me. That I got it right at last. And even as we’re leaving her behind, s
he feels closer than she has in a long, long time.
17
I shuffle around the kitchen, fixing the silverware on the napkins, the mint iced tea in the corner of the place mat. I’m just about ready.
This attempt at making dinner is going about a million times better than before. Probably because I ditched the rib eye recipe and tried something a bit more… Marley.
Hot dogs and fries. But fancy ones, with a Marley twist.
I carefully set up her side plate, putting eight empty baby ramekins down, encircling a slightly larger bowl filled with popcorn. Then I fill the ramekins around it: one with yellow mustard, one with bacon bits, and the others with ketchup, barbecue sauce, two different kinds of pickles, shredded cheese, and diced onions.
I push them together and add a big stick of celery extending from the bottom. Just as I hoped, the plate is transformed into a condiment flower. I carry it to the table and gently set it down. I want her to feel comfortable tonight. I want her to see that I see her. The way she always sees me.
That this isn’t going to be a sad story.
I plate the hot dogs and the fries, making sure they aren’t touching, just in time for the doorbell to ring.
I head out of the kitchen, trying to calm my nerves. Why am I so nervous? We’re always so comfortable around each other.
I open the door to see Marley standing on our welcome mat, wearing a pair of jeans and her yellow cardigan, her hair pulled back into a bun.
“Hi,” she says softly. She holds out a bundle of flowers. I do a quick scan, trying to guess what she’s telling me with these.
I peer at the clusters of tiny white petals, but I’m out of luck when it comes to a name. All I know is that they’re the poofy ones planted outside of granny houses.
“What’s this one mean?” I ask her.
“They’re hydrangeas,” she says, clutching the strap of her bag with one hand, the other reaching out to touch one of the enormous floral puffballs. “It means… gratitude.”
“Well, I am filled with gratitude for the flowers,” I say, cringing hard at myself. Could I be any lamer?
All This Time Page 10
