The Art of Second Chances

by Coleen Patrick

  “Hey man.” Zac held his hand out to Reed.

  Reed shook it. “How’s it going?”

  “Good.”

  Then they both focused on me. I pointed over my shoulder. “Uh, okay. I’m going upstairs now.”

  Zac stepped toward me. “Can I talk to you first?”

  My stomach bottomed. Even though I couldn’t guess what he wanted to talk to me about, I would have put all my money on the bet that we were about to discuss our relationship. It reminded me of last year, the ever-present need to declare the state of our relationship. Of course, back then, it had been our friendship that was at stake.

  Now, it would be everything.

  I considered telling him I was too tired, but I already knew that I’d probably be spending the rest of the night staring up at the shredded bottom of the top bunk. My mind wouldn’t shut off anytime soon. So I nodded, and as soon as I did, Zac tipped his head at Reed, then headed for the front door.

  I moved to follow Zac, when Reed said, “Good night.”

  I swore it sounded like he said, Good luck. I peeked at him. His lips jutted out ever so slightly, as if he sympathized with me. So my assumptions about what was about to happen with Zac weren’t that far off. Reed seemed to think this talk wouldn’t be good either.

  “Thanks,” I said, and Reed raised his hand up. Then I walked outside.

  Chapter 19

  The Ugly Landscape of Truth, Crayon and Pasted Paper

  I wrapped my arms around myself, prepared for the chills I’d felt on top of the dune. Except it wasn’t all that cold. The porch, the house, the dune, they were all barriers to the cooling ocean breeze.

  I sat next to Zac on the swing. It squeaked and swayed. Zac pushed his legs outward, and the swing stabilized.

  “Sorry I took off before,” he said.

  Sorry? Sorry was the last word I expected him to say. Well, unless I counted, sorry, but we have to break up. Those were the words I braced myself for.

  “It’s okay.” I stared straight ahead into the darkness outside. A fern hung from the lit up porch across the street. “Really. I get it. I’d probably have to go for a drive, too.”

  I tried to imagine Zac kissing another girl. Jenny flashed in my mind. Perfect, glossy, big breasted Jenny. It pissed me off and made me think of how I kissed Reed so quickly after thinking Zac wanted to break up. Who knew I had such an inclination for revenge?

  “This is weird,” Zac said.

  Would it be any weirder if I crawled into his lap? Because I just wanted to be closer to him.

  What was it about Zac? Yes, I’d been attracted to Reed. But Zac was different. Where Reed was only a spark, Zac was a slow burn that could go on forever. Maybe it had something to do with our history¸ with knowing him for my whole life. But I so got what he was saying earlier about wanting to be stuck with me, of being the opposite of broken up. Did he still feel that way? Or was the weird all too much?

  “I didn’t think we would have to have this conversation.” Zac rubbed his chin. “Or maybe I was avoiding it. I guess that was stupid on my part.”

  Stupid? Why? He’d already thought I was going to mess us up? Was I the kind of girl destined to be a cheater? Like my dad. Was it genetic? Was that why he was surprised we were having this conversation, whatever it was?

  “Zac…” My words caught when he took my hand. He wrapped his fingers around mine, making me want to fold myself into him, be tangled with him forever.

  “Grace, I didn’t think this mattered.” He squeezed my hand. I thought of love and how it intertwined us, and how painful it was to even consider releasing its hold. Was this the calm before the breakup? I held my breath. “The past, I mean.”

  He shifted to me.

  The swing moved, and I steadied myself on the cushioned seat with my free hand. Was he trying to say that what happened this week was in the past, and it hadn’t mattered, but now that he thought about it, it did? I was so confused. Part of me didn’t want to say anything. Part of me wanted to sit on that swing for the rest of the night as long as he would hold on to me. Except, I couldn’t do that. This was Zac.

  Zac mattered too much for me not to have clarity. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  His fingers fidgeted in my hand. “I should’ve told you about Jenny.”

  His words slammed into me. Maybe I didn’t know the full implication of what he was saying, but the effect was there, simply in the way he said her name. I leaned away from him, feeling my jaw slacken. I didn’t expect Jenny would be a part of our discussions anymore. That there actually was an About Jenny to talk about. “What do you mean?”

  Zac rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand before untangling his fingers from mine. “We dated.”

  “I know. You went to her prom.”

  Zac scratched his cheek but nodded. Again with that pained look. “Before that. At the journalism camp in Charlottesville.”

  The summer before his sophomore year. The summer before I went to high school. I tried to remember if the subject of Jenny had ever come up. I couldn’t think of anything. But back then, I hadn’t been concerned with his dating life. In fact, all I remembered about that summer was Joy’s accident, Tommy Bowman, and making friendship bracelets with Chloe (we’d actually sold them online for profit).

  “Okay. But what does that have to do with now?”

  “I didn’t think Jenny coming to HB mattered. In terms of us. But I should’ve realized that the subject of Jenny would come up one day.” Zac looked at me in a way that made me feel he wanted me to guess what it was he was saying. “I assume you would’ve asked. Eventually.”

  Huh? This was all so unclear. “Eventually? Why would I have asked about her? So you dated two summers ago, after your freshman year. You went to prom last year. Then Jenny shows up and what? Do you still have feelings for her?”

  Zac lowered his head, and my heart plummeted. Then he groaned in what I assumed was frustration. He stood, steadying the swing for me before moving to stand next to the railing. He flexed his jaw. “Grace, I have never felt what I feel for you with anyone. Ever. Not even Jenny. I wish--”

  “You wish what?” I scooted to the edge of the swing.

  “I wish I could take back that summer.”

  “Well, I wish I didn’t go to Happy Hills. But I still don’t understand. Did seeing Jenny bring all this back up? Because I’m not sure I get why you—wait—did something happen at your house over the past few days?” I held my breath, waiting for Zac’s admission that they’d kissed. That some old memory resurfaced, or they bumped into each other in the dark hallway and found themselves locking lips. Or maybe Jenny had come on to Zac?

  “Grace,” Zac said, almost as if he was pleading with me. What had he done? “I wish I had waited. For you.”

  My jaw dropped. Because then I knew the question he’d waited for me to ask. All that ridiculous hinting and talk about going to Fiji, we’d never point blank asked each other. Rather, I never asked him. Because I assumed, that like me, Zac was a…Mertensia Virginica. I assumed that we would be each other’s first. I was wrong.

  Because Zac already had his first.

  Jenny.

  I took Chloe’s car. It was the only one, other than Zac’s, that wasn’t blocked in the circular drive. Then I drove down Highway 12, through Duck, until the road ended. Then, even though I wasn’t supposed to take Chloe’s tiny Toyota onto the sand—all the signs said four-wheel drive vehicles only—I continued anyway.

  And got stuck.

  I parked and jumped out. Without a second glance at the vehicle, I ran across the beach until I was sitting on the edge of the surf. It was after midnight, and the sky was navy, the only lights were from a ship sailing across on the horizon.

  I sank to the sand. It was cold, but at least this time around, I had some reinforcement. When I got into the car, I’d put on a sweatshirt I found in the backseat. Now, I tugged at it and squinted to see what it said. Taylor’s soccer sweatshirt.

&nb
sp; Perfect. Tangible evidence of ruined relationships.

  I hugged my knees close to my chest. Zac was so apologetic, so sorry over something he’d done two years ago. I knew I should have been flattered that he wanted to take back his first time and save it for me. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him and Jenny. Couldn’t stop thinking about them wrapped up together, tangled. He’d been fifteen, she sixteen. The older woman. Developed in so many more ways than I was.

  Heat burned through me, acidic. I swallowed. Jealousy tasted nasty. Ever since I’d kissed Reed, only to realize Zac hadn’t broken up with me, I’d been worried how it would affect our relationship. It was so nothing compared to the realization that what I looked forward to having with Zac didn’t exist. It was so hard to wrap my thoughts around the idea that Zac would never be all mine, not the way I thought anyway. That we would have something special that would only be ours was ruined. No, it actually never existed.

  Zac tried to go with me after I grabbed Chloe’s car keys (and fished my phone out of the rice). I told him that I needed to think. Then, I asked him one more thing before I got into the car. “Did anything happen with Jenny this week?”

  He’d closed his eyes, and immediately, I whirled toward the car.

  “Grace. No. Wait,” he said, hopping off the porch. “Nothing happened. I told her I’m in love with you.”

  I swiveled on my heel. “But she wanted to.”

  “Yeah. I guess. It was probably some--”

  “It was probably what?”

  Zac toed the crushed shells on the circular driveway. “Nothing.”

  “God, Zac. Now is not the time to stop talking. Might as well get it all out there.”

  “Okay. You were right. Her staying at my house, she kind of engineered that situation.” He winced. “I think it was a nostalgic thing.”

  Now lying on the beach, I wanted to kick myself for pressing him to tell me everything, because I really didn’t want all the gory details. I especially didn’t want to think that they had something special together to reflect back on, that they shared a special history. That there was nostalgia. A nostalgia that was a completely different universe from stopwatch summers and mud pies.

  I pressed my face into the crook of my arm. Partially because I wanted to hide, and partially because there was a very strong stench of dead fish wafting up from the tide.

  I got up and dug in my shorts pocket for my phone—and the battery. After reassembling and hitting the power button, I waited for the screen to come alive.

  My phone vibrated, shining a happy light. Yes.

  I called Chloe’s number, and it rang several times. I walked upwind, away from smell, before I heard her croak into the phone. “Hello?”

  “Chloe. Wake up. Please. I need to talk to you.”

  “Grace?” I heard the creak of the bunk bed as she shifted. “It’s the middle of the night. Why aren’t you in your bed? Where are you?”

  “On the beach.”

  “Still?”

  “No, again. I told Zac about the kiss.”

  “And?”

  I hesitated.

  “Grace, come on. It’s almost two in the morning.”

  “Can you come here?”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if you came back to the house?”

  “No. Your car is stuck. In the sand.”

  Chloe groaned. “Whose car should I take?”

  “Joy’s. She leaves her keys under the floor mat.”

  “Okay. Where am I going?”

  “Straight down Highway 12.”

  Chapter 20

  Blanket on the Horizon, Fresco

  “This doesn’t mean you can’t have something special with Zac,” Chloe said. “You guys are in love. He said he wished he could take the thing with Jenny back. That says something, you know.”

  I stared at the horizon. Soon the sun would be reaching up from some other part of the world, coloring the bottom of the sky gray. I turned to Chloe. “I can’t get this naked picture of them out of my head.”

  “That’s only your imagination. I wonder if that warning on the car side mirror, objects are bigger than they appear, applies to boobs, too.”

  I pulled my knees up to my chin.

  “Objects are closer than they appear,” I said, correcting her.

  “Same thing.”

  “It’s not. Unless you’re trying to tell me that Zac and Jenny are actually closer than I think they are. In which case, I don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, you would,” Chloe said leaning back on her elbows. “It sucks to be cheated on.”

  “Crap. I’m sorry, Chlo. I still can’t believe Taylor did that.”

  “Yeah, well… whatever.” Chloe traced her finger in the sand between us. “I’m sad, but it’s not like I want that idiot back or anything. I want someone who thinks I hung the moon. Like the way Zac looks at you.”

  I rolled onto my side, facing Chloe. “But I would always be second.”

  “So?”

  “So? When has second ever been special? Second rate, sloppy seconds, second class, runner-up, backup, second-string, second fiddle.”

  “You’re assuming second is inferior in this situation. That’s not the case.”

  “It’s not like you were there.”

  “Um, neither were you. And need I remind you that you made out with Reed just a few days ago?”

  “Because I thought we broke up. I was sad. I didn’t cheat on Zac.”

  “He didn’t cheat on you either, Grace.”

  Chloe was right. She was always right.

  “Okay. So what do I do now?”

  Chloe unfolded the blanket she’d taken from Joy’s trunk. “Sleep on it.”

  “What? Here? I don’t think so.” I pushed myself to my knees. “Let’s go. We’ll take Joy’s car back and get your car unstuck in the morning.”

  Chloe burrowed under the blanket. “We’re not going anywhere right now.”

  “Why? Oh tell me you didn’t.”

  She opened one eye, then shrugged.

  “I told you not to drive on the sand.” I groaned. “Why don’t we sleep in one of the cars?”

  “I’m too tired to move.” Chloe yawned.

  I couldn’t help but yawn, too, so I slid under the cover next to her.

  Then I stared at the starry sky, thinking about our conversation, thinking about Zac on the porch and how pained he’d looked telling me about Jenny. “Of all the girls in the world, why did Zac have to go to Fiji with Jenny?”

  Chloe sighed quietly, sounding like she was already half asleep. “Because it’s always a Jenny.”

  Chapter 21

  The Wasted Landscape of Perfection, Red Pen on Graph Paper

  We called my mom as soon as the sun woke us up. I knew she was the only one guaranteed to be up at dawn. Thirty minutes later, Zac showed up in his truck. Reed was in the passenger seat.

  My right knee shook, but I resisted the urge to flee. “Crap.”

  “Well, they certainly are playing nicely, considering.” Chloe smirked.

  “Zac doesn’t know it was Reed.” I pasted on a smile as they hopped out and headed toward us.

  “I thought you told him.”

  “I didn’t tell him who.”

  “Well then, this is a nice little conundrum,” Chloe said as the boys hopped out of the truck.

  “A conundrum?” Zac crouched down to look at Joy’s tires. “You had to know this would happen. Don’t you read signs, Chloe?”

  “I considered them a suggestion. Especially when I was half asleep.”

  I busied myself with brushing the sand off of my legs. But I was nauseous from so little sleep and keeping my head down made me dizzy.

  “You slept out on the beach?” Reed asked.

  “Slept is a generous term,” Chloe said.

  Slept is a sucky term when you added Jenny into the equation. But I didn’t want to think about that anymore. I was on emotion overload. It was getting me nowhere, like our tires in the s
and. I really just wanted to leave this little gathering, but the sand was too difficult to run on. I wouldn’t get very far very fast. But oh, how I wanted to run. Far. Especially when I realized Zac was watching me.

  “You should’ve called me,” he said.

  I nodded but kept my mouth closed, remaining mute. Zac moved to the bed of his truck and came back with some cables. Within minutes, he and Reed had Joy’s car out of the sand, then Chloe’s.

  From the driver’s seat of Joy’s car, Reed stuck his hand out the window and waved. Then he drove away.

  Suddenly warm, I took off Taylor’s sweatshirt. I started to toss it in her backseat, but Chloe intercepted, hanging the shirt on the gnarled branch of a small tree at the entrance to the beach. Then Chloe saluted me before getting behind the steering wheel of her car.

  “See you at the house.” She sped away.

  Then it was just me on the end of the road, and Zac in his truck, waiting. Chloe’s ex-boyfriend’s sweatshirt flapped in the breeze. She left it behind. Stifling shame continued to smother my own confidence. Sure, I’d gotten better at opening up, but I held on to mistakes, reliving them over and over like some kind of punishment. When would I be able to let go? I really wanted to be done with my wackadoodle idea of relationship (and life) perfection. I already knew the pursuit of normal was a race against figuring out the real me. But keeping my mistakes as tinder to fuel my own personal humiliation was exhausting.

  I turned toward the beach. The sun peeked over the horizon, its light stretching, brightening the pathway from the water to where I stood. All that was missing was a choir singing something about a brand new day. Did sunrise have to be so annoyingly obvious?

  Okay, so all those pink layers across the sky were pretty spectacular. I couldn’t imagine painting something amazing every morning and not worrying how it compared to the day before. I could probably use a lesson in beginnings. Maybe I could start by trying not to paint yesterday over today. Or stop worrying what it all would look like before I even reached the end of the day.