Just a Boyfriend

by Wilson, Sariah

  “At some point this tricking me into doing stuff by using my competitive nature against me is going to stop working,” I told him.

  “Don’t think of it as tricking you. Think of it as a motivating incentive!”

  I reached over to smack him while he laughed at his own joke. His biceps were so nice and big and strong. I considered leaving my hand where it was but regained my sanity.

  He doesn’t like you that way, I reminded myself.

  There was this awkward moment when I took my hand away, hoping he hadn’t noticed my attempt to feel up his arm and then he said, “We should go. I think I’m full.”

  That couldn’t have been possible, given that I’d never known Bash to ever be full, but I did need to get home. I had a paper I had to finish up before class tomorrow, and I’d reached my daily quota of personal humiliation. “Okay.”

  As we both put our coats on, he asked, “Can I catch a ride home with you? I had one of my teammates drop me off.”

  “You should have called me to come pick you up. I could have done that.”

  We walked past the cashier’s station and got out front. I pointed to where I’d parked, and we headed in that direction.

  “I know I could have. I mean, I would have, except then it would have felt too much like . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he’d said more than he’d intended.

  I pushed the button to unlock my car, and while Bash climbed in on the passenger side, I stood outside, my limbs shaking. What had he almost said? There was only one way to finish that sentence, right?

  Too much like what? Too much like a date?

  And he didn’t want it to feel like a date?

  At first there was this glimmer of hope, that he thought maybe we had the potential to be something more. Something date-like.

  But then I realized that he didn’t want it to be like a date because he didn’t want to date me. And he didn’t want me to get the wrong idea about his intentions.

  I was the dumbest person alive. When was I going to get it through my extraordinarily thick skull that Bash was not into me? That no matter how much I wanted him, no matter how gorgeous I thought he was, he did not feel the same.

  He kept making that pretty clear, and I was the one who kept choosing to hope for more.

  Resigned, I got in the car and started it up. I asked him which dorm he lived in so that I would know where to drop him off. Because I would not be walking him to the door, and like he claimed last night, my motivations were entirely selfish. Despite what an amazing time we’d been having, now I just wanted this night to be over so that I could go home and eat a pint of ice cream and pity myself for my poor taste in men.

  I blamed my mother. It was probably genetic.

  While I drove, Bash messed with my radio stations. “These are the same ones you listened to in high school.”

  “Yep.” A lot of things were like they’d been back in high school. Including the fact that I was still in love with him.

  Bash asked me who my favorite singer/band was, and we discussed the current state of pop music on our drive back to his dorm.

  Then we arrived, and I was ready for him to go. I put the car in park but did not turn it off. “Okay. Thanks. See you later.”

  “Wait. We didn’t decide who won the bet and had to pay for dinner.”

  “Then we probably shouldn’t have gone to a place where you pay before you eat and make decisions.”

  He smiled. “Probably. But I’m thinking . . . we call it a draw?”

  “That’s a good idea, given that I think we made Bethany and Todd fall in love by being terrible dates.”

  That earned me one of his toe-tingling grins, and I forced my hands to stay on the steering wheel. “We are,” he agreed.

  He sat there smiling at me, and it made the back of my knees feel faint, and I was in serious danger of embarrassing both of us. “Okay. Bye now.”

  Then he finally took the hint and opened his door, nearly hitting the red car parked next to us. A car with extremely fogged-up windows.

  He made a sound of disgust, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Who is that?”

  “It is my roommate and his girlfriend.” He turned his head to yell the next part. “They forget that their windows are see-through!” Then his smile was back, and he was looking at me again. “Anyway, this was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

  He closed the car door, leaving me even more confused. We should do what again sometime?

  As I put my car in reverse, I listened to all of his words running through my head, and there was one thing he’d said that wasn’t true.

  He’d agreed with me that we were terrible dates. But after last night and tonight, Bash might have been a lot of things, but a terrible date was not one of them. At the edge of the parking lot, I checked my rearview mirror and movement had me glancing back. Jess and Logan climbed out of her car, laughing and holding hands.

  I remembered making out in a parked car with Bash. And I wanted to do it again.

  I was so super pathetic.

  This friend thing was not going to work out. I didn’t think I could keep myself in check for much longer. I would probably have to tell him how I really felt and see what happened next.

  Why did that idea fill me with so much dread?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BASH

  I saw Ember in our algebra class, and things seemed to be okay. We were friendly, but right as class let out on the day before the family football game was scheduled, she said, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I’ve got too much to do. But have fun!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “So sure. I’m just . . . busy, busy. You know how it goes.”

  I considered goading her into coming but stopped myself. The last week had been about proving that I could be around her and that we could chat like friends. Thing was, it wasn’t like it had been at the buffet. Where we’d shared personal things and talked about our likes and dislikes and spent time getting to know each other. There was a distance between us again.

  Part of me wanted to accept it as our new normal. This was what needed to happen.

  But I’d loved spending time with her. The real her. Not this polite facade she put on.

  Compartmentalizing my life was kind of my go-to. It was easy for me to put stuff in mental boxes. Food I Could Eat. Places I Could Go. Girls I Could Date. Girls Who Could Only Be Friends.

  But no matter how hard I tried, Ember would not stay put in that last box.

  So maybe it was a good thing I was going up to my dad’s alone. I had planned on driving with her, but I could catch a bus. Even if it would take a little bit longer, it was time I didn’t have to spend in Ember’s company acting like I just wanted to be her buddy.

  Because nothing could be further from the truth.

  It would also be good for me to go back home to remind myself why I was playing the martyr here. Why I was giving up something that could be amazing so that everybody else could be happy.

  When I arrived home, the entire place was in an uproar. Aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents were coming in and out of rooms, talking and laughing, hugging me hello. The kitchen smelled amazing, and I greeted everyone, including the little kids who attached themselves to my legs and hugged me.

  Roscoe danced in circles around my legs, and I scratched him in between his ears, which seemed to make him supremely happy. If only life were that easy where people were concerned.

  “Come on, you monsters. I have to go start some laundry. Go play in the other room.” I tousled my cousins’ hair, and they ran off to find somebody else to torture. Roscoe raced after them, apparently having appointed himself their guardian for the afternoon.

  I hefted my duffel bag on my shoulder. I figured as long as I was here, I might as well get some free laundry done.

  “What’s in the bag? Are you smuggling in some contraband? Are you sneaking in reefer? Mary Jane? Moocah?”

  My sister, Marley, had called o
ut to me from her room, and I went in to see what she was talking about. “What?”

  She closed the textbook she’d been highlighting. “I’m just making sure you’re not trying to bring your marijuana into this house.”

  I dropped my bag on the floor and went to sit on the foot of her bed. If there was one thing my sweet, bubbly little sister enjoyed more than anything else, it was teasing me for why I’d been kicked out of college. “Maybe I would have understood you better if you’d bothered to use some terms that are actually from this century.”

  “Sorry I’m not up on all your hip lingo for your illegal substances,” she said with a grin. “But since I know both our parents are addicts, I never mess with the stuff.”

  “Yes, you’re superior to me in every way,” I said. “But in my defense, I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. My depression meds weren’t working.”

  Her demeanor shifted quickly from mocking to concerned. “I know. Nobody blames you.”

  “I blame me.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t,” she said decisively. “And look at how good it all turned out. If you were still in Pennsylvania, you couldn’t stop by and see me. You’re my brother, but you’re also one of my best friends, and I’m so glad I can see your ugly face in person.”

  Her words made me feel guilty. I hadn’t been great about coming by as often as I should have. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “I kind of got used to it. It was like you left for college a year earlier than we’d expected. I missed you, but I didn’t miss you miss you. You know? Plus, we talked all the time.”

  That at least I could feel good about. I had made a serious effort to stay in touch with her and my dad. I had been willing to sacrifice my home, but not my relationships with them.

  “What do you have going on today?” I asked. “Are you going to play in the game?”

  She let out a giggle at my suggestion and rolled onto her back. “Um, no. Lauren and I have decided to watch and eat a bite of pumpkin pie every time somebody does something stupid while they’re playing. I figure I’ll probably gain five pounds today.”

  I laughed at the mental image she painted, and was very grateful that Lauren had stepped in to help fill the hole created by my absence. It was one of the reasons why I’d removed myself from this situation. The bond between Lauren and Marley had been instant, despite how different they were in appearance and temperament. They were sisters from the moment they’d met, and they adored one another. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that in jeopardy.

  “That sounds like a plan. I hope you guys enjoy yourselves.” I stood up and grabbed my duffel bag. “Hey, is there anything else you want to talk about?”

  “No.” She shot me a confused look. “Is there something I should want to talk about?”

  “Nope. Just, I’m around if you need me.”

  I left her room and dropped my bag off next to the washing machine. I needed to find my dad. He hadn’t told Marley about our mom’s letter. Because if he had, she would have called me. I’d actually spent the last week and a half expecting her call. Why hadn’t he? When he was the one who said he wasn’t going to keep anything from her?

  It was just another stressor to throw on the pile of things that were currently stressing me out. I used one of my breathing/calming exercises a long-ago therapist had taught me and told myself that I was in control of my reactions to the things that were happening around me.

  Honestly, I’d kind of hoped to be able to take out some of my frustrations on Woodby, but he had skipped practice for the whole week. It wasn’t mandatory, so he could get away with it, but it was something the coaches were sure to notice. From wherever they hid and watched while we played.

  There was a reason they called EOL End of the Line. For most of the football team, this was our last chance to either get back to a Division 1 school or get noticed by the NFL. I didn’t understand how anyone could skip practices or training, mandatory or not. I was determined to make the most of the second chance I’d been given by being here. I wouldn’t take it for granted.

  I began searching for my father. When I checked in the family room, I saw that there was a football game on, and it looked like something that had been previously recorded. I forced myself not to watch, because football had a way of drawing me in and blocking out the rest of the world. I didn’t need the distraction.

  After looking around the rest of the house and asking some questions as to Dad’s whereabouts, I was told to look in the garage. That should have been the first place I’d gone.

  My dad loved his extended family, but he was a big introvert who needed to decompress from this many people. Sure enough, he was in the garage working on his old Ford truck. The space heater was on, and I took off my coat when I got inside. “Hey, Dad.”

  He looked up from the engine he’d been bending over. “Hey, son. Come help me. Tricia’s going to kill me if I stay out here much longer. You can change the oil. This beauty’s nearly ready to pass her emissions test.”

  “Wow. You got it roadworthy.” He and I had been working on this since I was about twelve. I couldn’t believe he was almost done. It felt a little sad closing this chapter of my life, and that he’d finished it without me.

  “Something on your mind?”

  “Yes. Why haven’t you talked to Marley?”

  He used an oilcloth to clean off the screwdriver in his hand. “Just hasn’t seemed like the right time yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  Hanging the screwdriver back on his pegboard where he kept his tools, he said, “Actually, I was waiting for you.”

  “For me?”

  He was quiet, studying me. “I needed to know where your head was at. If you decided against reaching out to your mom, I had to know that. To let Marley know that you wouldn’t be there.”

  “Of course I’d be there for Marley.”

  “I mean physically there, sitting next to her on the couch. Not emotionally supporting her from a distance.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “And if I decide to see Mom?”

  He leaned against his workbench. “If you do, and it’s probably unfair of me, but I wanted you to get the lay of the land. What is she expecting? What are her explanations? What will she say? I’ve been hoping you’d decide to get in touch just so that we can get the full story. But it’s your choice. If you’re not going to see her, I have to prepare Marley. And if you are, well, I need to know what she’s walking into. She’s only sixteen. It’s my job to protect her.”

  It was something I understood all too well. Protecting people was part of my nature. Probably something I’d inherited.

  But having to talk to my mother? Feeling like I didn’t have a choice in the matter? That I was not okay with.

  It was getting hot in here. I pulled my sweater off, leaving just my white T-shirt. I folded my arms because my desire was to go outside, find an unsuspecting cousin, and just tackle him into the ground for some relief.

  “This is total bull shirt,” I muttered.

  “Ian! Language.”

  “I said shirt. With an r. Coach doesn’t want us to swear.” I watched as he started gathering up all the supplies I’d need to change the oil. “Maybe Marley and I should go see her together.”

  Even without my dad’s expression, as soon as I said it, I knew it was a terrible idea. There was no way I could just toss my sister into the deep end and hope she could swim. I was going to shelter her from as much pain as I could in this situation. I would sacrifice myself for her sake. It was what I did. In football and in the rest of my life.

  “Forget I said that,” I told him. “I’ll think about talking to Mom and let you know what I decide.”

  He nodded. “You know where everything is. I’ll see you inside once you’re done.”

  While I understood his reasoning, it still seemed strange that my father would be encouraging me to talk to my mother. Especially given the wa
y that her leaving had nearly destroyed him. But I didn’t like thinking about that time in my life.

  In fact, ever since he’d come to see me at school, I’d pretty much put her out of my mind. Other than telling Ember about the letter, my brain had been blissfully Mom-free. Delaying and avoidance had always been my go-to moves when faced with something I didn’t want to face. I knew they weren’t healthy coping mechanisms, but they were my factory-set defaults.

  But regardless of me avoiding my problems, there were questions that I’d been carrying around with me for years. Not knowing why she’d left still really bothered me. Where did she go? What did she do? Had she been in prison? On the streets? Holed up in some random guy’s house getting high?

  I knew my maternal grandparents had tortured themselves with the same kind of questions. I wondered if she’d gotten back in touch with them, but I was afraid to reach out and ask. If she hadn’t, it would absolutely kill them. They had always blamed themselves for not recognizing the signs of her addiction earlier and getting her the help she’d needed.

  I picked up the socket wrench to loosen the nut on the oil drain plug, confident my father had already chosen the right size. I double-checked the jacks, knowing it was unnecessary. My dad didn’t make mistakes when it came to cars.

  I grabbed my dad’s creeper and laid it flat on the ground. I knelt down and turned over, placing my back squarely on it. I used my feet to scoot under the car.

  I looked up at the light filtering through the engine and tried to figure out the right thing to do. What would Marley want? Maybe she wouldn’t be interested in talking to my mom. Or maybe she would. She’d been a lot younger than me when Mom had left. Her normal had been growing up without a mother. Would she have questions? Or would she just . . . not care?

  The problem was, Marley and I had never discussed this possibility. I didn’t know how she would feel or react. Mom was basically a non-subject in our household. Dad had been both parents for us.

  Of course, my mom and that whole situation wasn’t the only thing I’d been avoiding. I was also avoiding my feelings for Ember. Trying to put us in the friend zone and make it all nice and platonic so that I could still have her in my life. I’d missed her. And hadn’t realized how much until I’d seen her again.