by Jaime Reed
“Oh, please. The boy is one big ball of complication.”
Cody frowned at me, clearly unconvinced.
“I … I just don’t know what I want right now,” I said.
“I think you do and you’re just afraid to get it. What’s holding you back?”
I was in no shape to answer that right now. “I don’t know.”
“An amnesiac’s favorite answer.” He chuckled. “And this is why it would never work out between us.”
Where did that come from? “What?”
He smiled, his eyes on the road. “Look, Ellia, you’re beautiful and funny, and I love how we understand each other … ”
He trailed off and I tensed up, wondering where this was going. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t entertained thoughts of Cody before. Imagined what it might be like to date him.
“But I almost feel like we’re too similar,” Cody went on. “We’d both be bringing too much baggage to the table, if that makes sense. Not really what I’m looking for.” He smiled and then began detailing a list of dream girl requirements. It was a long list.
“Hold up. Are you dumping me?” I asked. If it wasn’t for the fact that we weren’t dating to begin with, I might’ve been hurt. But in truth I was sort of relieved that he felt the same as I did.
Cody smiled. “I’m afraid so, my dear,” he said in a voice full of old black-and-white-movie melodrama. “We had a good run, but it’s time to move on. I know it’s hard, but one day you’ll find another.”
When he stopped at a red light, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. He pulled back and added, “We’ll always have therapy.”
“Always, darling,” I replied with equal drama. “Always.”
“Eyes straight ahead,” came the voice again, which made me jump like I was watching a slasher flick. Being with Cody seemed to take the edge off. He was so laid back that it made you sleepy.
“This might seem like awkward timing, given that we’re officially broken up and all. There’s something I gotta know,” he said after a while. “Who was the chick in the glasses?”
I turned to him. “You mean Stacey? My best friend. The one I was just yelling at?”
“Yeah. Is she seeing anyone?”
I tilted my head in curiosity. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “You gotta give me her number.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll think about it.”
“Cool.” His head rocked to a happy groove playing in his head. “So, you still don’t know about your accident. Why don’t you just ask your parents?”
“They know the aftermath, but not how I hit my head. Liam’s the only one who knows the truth.”
“You sure about that?” he asked. “If Liam’s the only one who knows, then why did he say you’d find out when you got home? Is there a clue there?”
I hadn’t thought of that. Was there something I was missing? A note? A photograph? The fixation was real to the point where I didn’t even notice we’d pulled up to my driveway until the car stopped.
Cody redirected his GPS and then leaned across the seat to peer through my window. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” I followed his gaze to the house and noticed the porch light was on and Dad’s car was missing from the driveway. He and Mom had probably gone out to eat. With any luck, they were having a couple’s night or at least working out their differences.
I thanked Cody for the ride and climbed out of the car.
“Sorry for the drama tonight, Dory,” I told him.
“Good luck, Jason Bourne.” Cody waited until I got to the front door.
As I stepped onto the porch, I noticed a brown package sitting on the welcome mat. I saw that it was addressed to me, but with no postmark and no return address. It must’ve been hand-delivered. There were glittery butterflies and rainbow stickers on the package. Random. The odds of a stink bomb or a dead rodent waiting inside seemed highly unlikely, but I handled the package with care just in case. I waved good-bye to Cody then raced inside.
“Mom? Dad?” My call was met with silence, which confirmed they were out for the evening. Seeing as I was still wearing my nineties costume, I was glad they were gone and I could avoid pointed questions.
In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of vegan snacks then headed to my room. After changing into a pair of pajamas and washing the makeup off my face, I finally squared off with the brown package sitting on my bed. I had a good hunch who sent it. The stickers had thrown me off for a second, which I believed was the idea in case Mom or Dad found the box first.
I ripped off the paper wrapping and uncovered a thick manuscript, professionally bound with a black cover. I flipped the cover to the title page and I didn’t even bother to hold back my excitement. He’d been having trouble thinking up a name for the story, but it would appear that he finally found the right one.
LESS THAN THREE
by Liam J. McPherson
It was a good thing that my folks weren’t home—my squealing would’ve surely woken them up. I didn’t care either way. Liam had finished his story!
I lay on my back in bed and settled in for a night of binge reading. I turned to the first page.
“Either you’re running from something or running to something. Whatever the case is, it better be worth all the huffing and puffing.”
She told me that one night on the beach, and looking back, it seemed to be the sum of our relationship. Running. We didn’t see it at the time, but that was exactly what we were doing. It was the motive behind her wild ways and the reward promised to me if I followed. It marked the beginning of what would be the most exciting time of my life. Unfortunately, it was also how it would end.
* * *
I had to pause a minute to digest the passage. Had Liam and I relied on each other to escape the messed-up parts of our lives that we couldn’t physically leave? I swallowed hard and kept reading, soaking in the events and getting lost in the details and the flow of Liam’s words. His descriptions of me felt like fingers on my skin and the reverence leapt off the pages to kiss me. They were completely biased and overblown, but he sure knew how to make a girl feel special.
Halfway through the fifth chapter, I heard a light tapping on my door. Mom poked her head in my room to tell me that it was midnight, and to ask why I was back from Stacey’s so early. I made an excuse about not feeling well and needing to be in my own space, which wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t feeling well, and as I continued reading late into the night, the sicker I became. Not because of Liam’s writing—I nearly woke up the house laughing and crying at the adventures he described. What turned my stomach was the girl featured on every page who, from all accounts, seemed sad and broken. The more I learned about her, the less I liked her.
Liam told me that the real Oedipus complex was claiming to be wise when you didn’t know the first thing about yourself. I still believed that everybody had that flaw in them, some twinge of pride and superiority that always preceded a fall. It would appear that some cases were worse than others and it was hard to tell what was worse: forgetting or being forgotten.
I only returned to the dance to find out who won the best costume award. During that time, Stacey had ignored me, Trish and Nina had given me the evil eye, and Wade had completely ditched me to dance with his girlfriend. The only good thing was that the juniors won the class prize. Thanks in no small part, of course, to Ellia’s brilliance. When the cast of Daria stormed the stage, and Stacey began her lengthy acceptance speech, I couldn’t take it anymore. I strode back outside. It was a relief to see that Ellia and Cody had left the school, but when I got to my locked car, I realized that I couldn’t do the same. Wade still had my keys.
I sat on the hood of my car with my feet on the front bumper and texted him. While waiting for Wade to show up, I used the time to reflect on all the ways I’d messed up tonight.
My jealousy, my compulsion to keep Ellia safe and close to me was on the wrong side of healthy and it n
eeded to stop. Ellia used to call it possession obsession when we were dating—right around our first fight, in fact. It drove her crazy then, much like it did now. But what she never seemed to get was that I didn’t exactly love that tendency in myself, either.
I swallowed hard. Thank god Dad wasn’t here to see me now—he would’ve kicked my butt up and down the street for crying in public. This was something you did in the privacy of your home; not in the middle of a high school parking lot.
A group of kids filed out from the rear entrance of the gym, in heavy debate over what diners were still open this time of night. They walked past and I quickly swiped my eyes and checked my dying phone.
Wade still hadn’t shown up to give me the keys. One would think he would’ve understood the urgency after text number five. I was thirty seconds from finding a brick and committing grand theft auto on my own car, when I caught Daria herself strolling up the aisle. Even from a ways off, she was hard to miss.
“You’re still here? Thought you took off an hour ago,” Stacey called out, swinging a tangled mass of keys in her hand.
I met her question with one of my own. “You’re taking off already?”
“Yeah. Too much drama tonight. I’m gonna go home and sleep it off.” One click of her key fob incited a beep and a flash of taillights from three lanes down. “You need a ride?” she asked.
I looked to my car and then back to her. “No, I just … ”
“Wade’s still dancing with Kendra, so you might be here till morning waiting for him. It’s up to you, but you have ten seconds to decide.” She dipped between cars, disappearing from sight as she began the countdown. “Ten … nine … eight … ”
I was at the passenger-side door of her car by the time she made it to three.
“You really are fast. Impressive.” She smiled and climbed inside.
We drove along in silence. All I could think was, what happens now? I couldn’t imagine life after Ellia.
Eyes glued to the road, Stacey finally said, “El and Cody are just friends. They’re going through the same thing so they get each other in a way that we can’t. That’s all.”
I kept my focus outside my window. “They can do whatever they want. I don’t care. I’m moving on.”
She scoffed. “Worst. Liar. Ever.”
“I’m dead serious. I can’t do this anymore. I can take a hint, you know.”
“Does this mean that you’re not gonna serenade her under her bedroom window anymore? Too bad she doesn’t have a balcony so you can do the whole Romeo thing.”
I glared at her. “I don’t do that. I have to pass her house anyway to get to the beach, so I check on her from across the street.”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s not creepy at all. No sir,” she muttered. When she got cold silence in response, she said, “I still don’t get it. Did her folks threaten to call the cops on you for trespassing or something?”
“Worse than that,” I intoned. “I’d go to jail for violating a court order.”
She jumped in her seat. “What? Ellia’s parents put a restraining order on you?”
“Yup. I can’t go within a hundred yards of Ellia, her house, her car—everything.”
If the topic wasn’t so depressing, I would’ve found Stacey’s struggle to steer straight amusing.
“What did you do, Liam?” she demanded.
“I loved the wrong girl,” I replied. “The odds were stacked against us, even before the accident. I wasn’t good enough for their sweet, perfect daughter. First came the warnings to keep away. Then came blocked phones and revoked computer privileges. The restriction got tighter until we were sneaking out all the time.” I paused and turned to Stacey. “Then, a day after the accident, the sheriff shows up at my door to serve me papers. My dad flipped. He went to knock some sense into Ellia’s dad and they started fighting. After that, my father didn’t want me near her, either.” I shook my head with disgust.
“Wow, Hemingway, you stay losing.” Stacey sighed as we pulled up in front of my house. “That’s crazy. But why not just be honest with Ellia about it?”
I shrugged. “It’s all in my book.”
Stacey glanced at me. “You finished it?”
I nodded. “I printed a copy for Ellia and dropped it at her door earlier tonight.”
“So that’s what you meant. Liam, that’s great!” Her exclamation sounded genuine. “What are you gonna do with it now?”
“Don’t know. As far as I’m concerned, I’m done with it. Thanks for the ride. Night.”
I opened the door and got out of the car.
When I reached the porch, I remembered that Wade had my house keys as well. Thankfully, he had forgotten to lock up the garage. I slipped under the roll-up door then went in through the side entrance that led to the kitchen. I made it halfway to the fridge when I realized that I wasn’t alone in the house. I turned and saw Stacey standing in the garage doorway with her arms crossed.
“You’re not gonna delete it all, are you?” she asked.
I tried to get my heart rate under control. “Wait. You follow me in here, yet I’m the creepy one?”
“Answer the question. If you plan on trashing your hard work then I want to read it before you do.”
I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. This night, this conversation was sapping me dry and I needed to stay hydrated. “Stacey, some of that stuff is kinda personal.”
She waved off the warning. “I’m not interested in the lovey-dovey crap. I wanna know what happened with the accident. My best friend almost died that day. She lost her memory that day, and you were the only one who knows the truth about that day.” She stressed the words.
“How do you know it’s the truth?” I challenged. “I could be lying. Creative license and all that.”
“Because you wouldn’t lie to Ellia. Me? Sure. The police? Maybe. But Ellia? No way.”
I couldn’t argue with that line of reasoning. I was done arguing, period, so I asked, “If I print out that chapter, will you leave me alone?” When she agreed, I pushed off the counter and moved to the stairs. “Wait here.”
I went to my room and pulled up the document on my computer. I highlighted everything after Ellia dared me to race her to the pier and then hit Print.
Moments later, I returned downstairs with the papers in my shaking hand.
Stacey sat up straight on the couch, her eyes following me to the armchair next to her.
In the quiet of the living room, several facts went without saying as the document changed hands. This story doesn’t leave this house. Read the whole thing before you judge me.
As Stacey began to read, I tracked how her eyes zipped across the lines.
It wasn’t watching people cry that got to me. It’s watching them trying not to cry—the internal battle that could be told through every strained muscle in their face. The pursed lips, the pinching of the eyes, the leaking dam of tears, the shuttered sob that they tried to pass off as laughter. It was a fight that you knew they’d lose, because you were slowly losing your own.
When she finished, she lowered the paper onto the coffee table in a smooth motion, her gaze fixed straight ahead toward the window. The look on her face conveyed pure devastation as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Liam.”
“Thanks. Are we done here?” I collected the papers.
She snapped out of whatever daze she was in and looked at me. “You didn’t do this. It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself.”
“Yeah, well, blame is like rear ends and reflections. You’re always looking back,” I told her.
She made a face at me. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No. It’s just something Ellia … ” I cut off that thought before it could take shape. I couldn’t deal with anything involving Ellia right now. I couldn’t deal with Stacey looking at me in pity. “Look, just go, okay?”
Stacey glanced at my hands. I followed her gaze to the printout with its torn and bent edges. My fist had w
rapped around the rolled-up papers so tightly that it resembled a bow tie. Add a bobbing right knee that I couldn’t control and I was the image of a ticking time bomb.
“You know what?” Stacey said. “I’ve had it up to here with both of you. You’re not the only ones who are scared and confused around here, Liam.”
The brokenness in her voice put my temper in check. “What would you be scared of?”
She looked to the ceiling and lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Being forgotten. Losing a friend. Having all your memories amount to nothing. Take your pick.”
“What are you talking about? At least she knows who you are.”
“Ellia knows who I was. She doesn’t know about the person I am now, not really.” Fat droplets fell from her eyes and she slapped her cheeks to wipe them away. “She was my go-to person. I’d tell her everything. Now, all of those late-night phone calls, all the sleepovers at her house because I couldn’t deal with stuff at home, all the crying on her shoulder. It’s all gone. It’s like if she doesn’t know, then it didn’t happen, and if it didn’t happen then what exactly am I holding on to?” Stacey lowered her head and cried, and I just sat there at a complete loss for words.
I thought I was the only one who felt that way, the only one grieving for how things used to be. If you hated your reflection, you tended to avoid all mirrors, but I couldn’t avoid Stacey. Not now.
She looked so fragile in that moment that I was afraid to touch her. I tried to get her to look at me, but she kept dodging my stare. I transferred from the armchair to the couch and held her by the shoulders. Her body trembled under my hand.
In a low, cracking voice that I couldn’t recognize as my own, I said, “Stacey, come on. It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” She sniffed. “You’re not the only one who lost someone that day.”
I found myself leaning in to wipe her cheek with my thumb. When she didn’t respond, I lifted her chin to look at me. “I warned you not to read it.”
“No. I needed to. I can’t live in a fantasy world, no matter how beautiful … ” She paused and looked up at me with that same wonder she had when she’d done my makeup in the kitchen earlier in the week.
