The Beginning and End of Everything

by Stevie J. Cole

  Brandon never would watch that movie; he said it was the longest chick flick of all time. I didn’t mind, though, because Poppy liked it. And I would do anything to make her happy.

  By the time the blond guy was dead and sinking to the bottom of the ocean, Poppy was balling. She buried her face in my shoulder, and I took the opportunity to put my arm around her. "It's okay,” I said. “It's just a movie."

  "But …that ship really sank.” Her head popped up, and tear-filled eyes met mine. "People died on that ship."

  “Well. Yeah.” I shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "But there wasn't a Jack and Rose."

  "Maybe there was."

  "Maybe."

  The screen faded to black, plunging us into darkness while the end credits rolled. My heart banged out an uneven rhythm. She hadn’t pulled away from me yet, which meant my arm was still around her. It also meant I couldn’t concentrate on anything but whether she would push me away if I did try to kiss her.

  For the past month, I’d practiced telling Poppy how much I cared about her, and it always sounded poetic, like Wadsworth or Hemingway, but sitting in this dark room with her body touching mine; the thought terrified me. Swallowing, I wet my lips. "I would have given up the door for you," I said, hoping she would read between those lines.

  She pulled away and smiled through her tears. "You would?"

  "Always."

  Then she pressed a kiss to my cheek. I closed my eyes, savoring how soft her lips were. The gesture was completely innocent, but it felt like she had just offered me the world.

  Our eyes met before my gaze drifted to her lips. I leaned in, and when she didn’t move back, I closed my eyes. This was it. I was going to kiss Poppy Turner. But when the living room door banged against the wall, we both jumped away from each other.

  Brandon strutted in with a stupid grin on his face. "Behold." He spread his arms wide. "I am no longer a virgin!"

  I could have punched him for ruining the moment I’d fantasized about for four years. Poppy hopped up with a huff and shoved past Brandon. She was upset, obviously at Brandon, but I wasn’t sure whether it was because he had ruined our moment, or because he’d had sex with Lisa.

  Anyone with half a brain could see the way Poppy looked at Brandon—the same way I’m sure I looked at her most of the time— even though he never gave her the same attention. My chest went hot and tight, and I clenched my fist in my lap when I looked at him. Pots and pans banged around in the kitchen.

  "Bran. Get out."

  Brandon’s confused gaze slowly drifted between me and the kitchen. "Were you? Was that?" He pointed at me, then hiked a thumb over his shoulder toward the doorway.

  "I don't know. You're the non-virgin now. You tell me."

  "Well, she seems pissed I came in."

  "Yeah, so get your arse out, would you? Geez."

  He scratched a hand through his hair, then rolled his eyes. "You're my best friends. It's like a code. When one of us loses our virginity, we tell the others. It's a thing."

  That was the first I’d heard of that. Of course, Brandon was the first of us to lose his…"Okay. Well, leave, and I'll tell you all about it." For a second, I smiled, but the teenage male comradery I reveled in was quickly smothered by guilt for talking about Poppy like that.

  Brandon tensed for a moment like someone had just knocked the wind from him. "You're not supposed to lose it with Poppy. You’ve gotta practice with somebody else.”

  "Why would I want to stick my willy in some girl I don't like?"

  "Oh.” He gave a slight nod, accompanied by a grin. “You'll like it."

  "Would you get out of here already?"

  He held up his hands and went to turn around but stopped to dig around in his pocket. He chucked something at me. "Don't be silly. Cover that willy.”

  "Leave!" I quickly shoved the condom into my pocket, my face burning all the way to my hairline while Brandon laughed his way down the hall.

  I listened for the front door, but instead, heard the bang of a cabinet. “What do you want?” Poppy said, and if I had to guess, she had her arms crossed, her hip cocked.

  "Don't be mad, poss. I just needed to see Con. It's a guy thing."

  "Yeah. Whatever."

  "I'm sorry. I know you love Titanic.” Brandon paused, and I shifted on the couch. "I'm going now, so you and Connor can get right back to it."

  The hinges to the back door squealed before the lock clicked shut. There was a moment of silence where I wondered if maybe Poppy had followed him outside, but after a few seconds, her footsteps stomped down the hall.

  "He's so annoying.” She moved around me and flopped down on the couch.

  And there we sat.

  Next to each other.

  In the dark.

  I wanted to put my arm back around her but couldn’t find the nerve to do it when she wasn’t crying.

  She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. "Why does everything have to change, Con, huh?"

  "What’s changed?”

  "Brandon's gonna get a girlfriend. Then you'll get one. And we won't be best friends anymore."

  "Aw, come on now. We'll always be best friends.”

  She shook her head against my shoulder. "I just wish we could stay here forever."

  I did too.

  She traced her finger over my arm, leaving a trail of chill bumps behind her soft touch. "If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell Brandon?"

  I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she was about to say.

  "I think he'll end up leaving us, and one day, it will just be you and me.”

  "Why would you think that?"

  "I don't know." She shrugged. "I just feel it. Just promise me you'll never leave me, Con, okay?"

  Then I did put my arm around her. "I'll never leave you, Poppy. I promise."

  That was the easiest promise I had made in my life. I never intended to leave that girl. Ever.

  14

  Poppy

  Not long after Brandon made his triumphant entrance, Connor left. We exchanged an awkward hug, followed by an even more awkward pause where his gaze dropped to my lips.

  I shut the front door and pressed my back to it while guilt weighed my shoulders down.

  I’d almost kissed Connor.

  And the more concerning thing was: I’d wanted to kiss him. Because he was sweet and kind, and, when he started inching his way toward me, it had felt so very right—at least, until Brandon stormed in all victorious.

  That changed everything.

  My emotions jumbled and tangled, tightening my chest as I climbed the stairs to my room. As far as my adolescent self could tell, I was in love with Brandon, and yet, part of me was beginning to fall for Connor. What kind of person was I? Falling for not one, but both of my best friends.

  I slammed my bedroom door, then paced at the foot of my bed. Something had to be wrong with me. Even Hope wouldn’t pull some stunt like this. If I weren’t careful, I’d ruin everything.

  On a huff, I wiggled out of my jeans and shirt and pulled on one of Brandon’s old T-shirts he’d left at my house. A familiar knock sounded at my window, and I took a deep breath. When I didn’t go to the window, he tapped the glass again. Brandon knew I left it unlocked—specifically for him. Knocking was nothing but a curtesy.

  I spun around, shot him the nastiest glare I could manage, then flipped him the bird before I fell back onto my bed. He was still at the window when I took the book from my nightstand and turned to the dog-eared page. It was harder than I thought it would be to focus on the print while trying to ignore the subtle ache in my chest.

  The glass juddered against the frame, followed by the rustle of Brandon’s crawling through the gap. His feet hit the carpet with a thud, but I kept my gaze locked onto the words, pretending to be invested even though I wasn’t comprehending a single line.

  “Possum?”

  On a sigh, I flipped the page, smoothing the crease in the paper. I was angr
y at him, but the thing that made it worse: I had no right to be.

  “You’re mad at me for interrupting your thing with Connor.”

  My face went fire-hot. I tossed the book to the foot of my bed, then crossed my arms over my chest on a hard stare. “It wasn’t a thing with Connor, Brandon.” It almost was, but there was no way I’d ever admit that.

  “O-kay…” He shoved his hands into his pockets and scraped a heel over the carpet.

  It was all different now. One night and everything had changed. He’d kissed Lisa—done other things with Lisa, and I despised that she now had parts of Brandon I never would.

  “What do you want?” My voice caught in the back of my throat.

  “Poss, you know I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

  When I didn’t say anything, he face-planted on my bed, grabbing fistfuls of the comforter and groaning. “Girls are so confusing!”

  I studied the way his biceps flexed while he gripped the covers, the tangles in his hair that I was certain Lisa had caused. Anger bubbled inside, popping and fizzing, heating my core until I wanted to explode. And I did.

  “Why don’t you go crawl through Lisa’s window then. She doesn’t seem to confuse you.” The second those words left my mouth, I regretted them. They made me sound jealous, but as much as I hated it, I was.

  He lifted his head, then rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “Because I don’t like Lisa. And the last time I checked, you’re my best friend.”

  “You had sex with her. What do you mean you don’t like her?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Poss, you don’t have to like a girl to, you know…” He swept an invisible crumb from my bed. “I just didn’t want to be a virgin anymore.”

  And he thought girls were confusing. Groaning, I grabbed the book from the end of my bed, reopened it, and leaned against the headboard. “Whatever, Brandon.”

  Brandon sat up and scooted beside me. His warm breath touched my shoulder. “Whatcha reading?” The smell of soap and sweat that was all Brandon invaded my space just before I caught a subtle hint of vanilla body spray.

  I swallowed while my stomach turned. Lisa had even ruined the way he smelled. “Frankenstein,” I managed.

  “Cool.” He reclined back on the pillow next to me. “You know I’m not going anywhere until you forgive me for whatever I did. Then, if you want me to go home, I will.” There was a trace of disappointment in his voice, and it didn’t belong there. No matter how much it felt like we were more than friends, we weren’t. I wasn’t Lisa McAdams.

  I placed the book on my nightstand, then got out of bed to lock the bedroom door before slipping beneath the covers. “You didn’t do anything to me, Brandon. I’m just…” I reached over and switched off the lamp, settling into the darkness.

  I couldn’t tell him I was hurt because I didn’t want him to know how I felt. As hurt as I may have been, I refused to ruin what Brandon and I did have. “Don’t pay attention to me. It’s just a girl thing, I guess. And you don’t have to leave.”

  “Okay. Just so you know, I'll never like any other girl more than you. Love you, poss.”

  A dizzying heat washed over my body, a tsunami I would have gladly drowned in. A notebook was tucked away in my nightstand drawer, I love Brandon scribbled over most of the pages.

  Out of the thousand ways I’d daydreamed he’d tell me he loved me, I never imagined it would be like this. Right after he’d given himself to someone else, after I’d almost kissed his best friend.

  But as much as it broke my heart, I’d take that boy loving me any way I could, so I whispered, “I love you, too,” before I closed my eyes to sleep.

  15

  Brandon

  April 2004

  With the press of a button, I shot Connor’s avatar in the head. "Too slow,” I said with a triumphant grin when digital blood splattered across Connor’s TV screen.

  Connor threw his controller and sank back into the sofa cushions. "I thought you were coming here last night.”

  "Nah. Went to Poppy's." I always went to Poppy’s, because—and I never told Con this since, at the time, it felt stupid—she made me feel safe. I swiped the bottle of Mountain Dew from the coffee table and took a swig.

  "Huh.” He fidgeted with the remote. “You like her or something?"

  “What?” My chest squeezed with something akin to panic. “No! Gross. It's Poppy." So much dishonesty lingered between us, but I kept my secrets close for two reasons: Connor and Poppy.

  My loyalty to him was the only thing strong enough to stop my raging teenage hormones dead in their tracks.

  The memory of the two of them snuggled up on her couch watching Titanic popped to mind, and jealousy sunk its claws in deep. "I always stay at her house,” I said. “You know that. She's like my sister." The lies continued to pour in a desperate bid to cover the truth.

  "Yeah …"

  "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You pine after that girl more than a pisshead with a bottle of whiskey." I took the pack of cigarettes from my back pocket and dabbed one out, but he snatched it from me.

  "Not in the house. Ma will have my arse."

  "Worried she'll think you're smokin', Golden Balls?"

  “Piss off."

  I fell back against the cushions, combating the ugly feeling that tightened my chest. "Seriously, though, you're my best friend. Poppy’s my best friend. You two...are best friends. You can’t be looking at her like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look. I get it. Poppy is pretty, but it would ruin everything. It’s perfect exactly how it is.”

  I didn’t want anything to change, but I could sense it on the horizon. We were on the precipice between adolescents and young adults. Part of me wished I could hit pause. The tumultuous emotions were already proving to be a confusing push and pull, and the situation between Poppy, Connor, and me—one wrong decision could destroy everything. I needed them both too much to risk it.

  Connor’s brows pulled together. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  “You don’t really want Poppy. She’s just the only girl who talks to you.”

  “Maybe.”

  "Feckin' hell. Come on." I grabbed his arm, dragging him from the couch as I stood.

  "Where?"

  "We're going to see Slutty Suzie."

  "Bran. Come on." He started to pull away, but my grip just tightened. This was for his own good.

  "No. We're going. She showed me her pussy last year and changed my whole world. Look, you took me to confession when we were kids, now it's time for me to help you sin. You won't even talk to a girl because you're so hung up on Poppy." I shook my head. "It's just getting sad now."

  He pulled against me again. I was always the devil on Connor’s shoulder, but he needed a push. Without me, he would be a virgin until he found some girl to marry.

  I grinned on our way to the door. "I’m not asking you to sleep with her. Just kiss the girl—anything to get a little experience.” I stared at Connor and the uncertainty on his face. “Look, I'll take ya to confession right after."

  "The entire church would go up in smoke the second your arse walked through the doors.”

  "I happen to be baptized, thank you very much.”

  We were halfway through his yard before he stopped resisting. Then he shoved me. "I swear to God, Bran. You tell anyone about this, and I will let everyone know about that time we had that farting contest and you strained so hard you shit yourself."

  "You'd never prove it."

  "Might would."

  "Fine. I won't tell." I spat on my palm and held out my hand. He did the same, and we shook. "I swear if you ask me to pinky swear …"

  He let out a sigh. "Come on, let’s get this over with. It’s just a kiss, right?"

  16

  Brandon

  May 2004

  Ma flopped down on the couch with a hand to her head. “Can you get me the paracetamol?”

  I grabbed it from the cupboard, filled a glass
with water, and handed both to her. “You’ve been having a lot of headaches.”

  She tossed the pill back, then laid back down. “It’s just the weather. Are you going to Connor’s?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be home for dinner.”

  “Okay, sweetheart. I love you.” She smiled up at me, and I leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek.

  “Love you too, Ma,” I said on my way out the door.

  I spent the afternoon and most of the early evening playing video games with Connor, just like most days, but when I stepped into the caravan that evening, the aroma of hash and cabbage wasn’t there.

  But my dad was, and with him being home instead of at the pub, I knew something was wrong. He sat on the couch, his elbows rested on his spread knees. His head hung forward.

  No TV. No beer in his lap.

  I craned my neck, trying to locate Ma, and the floor creaked. Dad’s head lifted slowly, his tear-filled gaze meeting mine.

  “Where’s Ma?”

  He swiped a hand over his face before patting the couch. “Come here.”

  Panic crept around my throat, strangling me like a boa constrictor when I perched on the edge of the sofa. Every muscle in my body tensed, but for once, it wasn’t because I was scared of my dad, just what he was going to say.

  “Your ma is gone.” He paused. He ducked his head, and his fists balled on his thighs. “She’s gone, Brandon.” The slight vulnerability in his words crashed over me with startling reality.

  Gone? My jaw tensed. She wouldn’t leave me.

  “A brain aneurysm.”

  She’d been getting headaches and having to nap a lot, but she was okay. She had to be.