“No. Never. It’s why I don’t believe him, even when he says horrible things. I hate that I can still trust him, that I can still love it so much, even when we act like that, but it’s a game. Jack would die without me.”
She smiles and waits. I don’t say anything at first, but she watches me and eventually the awkward silence is unbearable. “Yeah, I get it,” I say. “I get what I just said, but it’s still fucking abnormal.”
“Maybe you need to focus less on what’s normal, as you say, and more on what you want,” she tells me.
“I don’t know what I want,” I say.
“Well, perhaps it’s time we figure that out.”
30
The letter came in a big ass white envelope. It had a fancy little ribbon on it and everything. “Congratulations, Alana Reardon. We are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to NYU for the upcoming academic year…” There were more words after it, but that was really all that mattered.
I sat down at the kitchen table. They were even going to pay for me to go there. It was unreal. I’d filled out the application on a whim, and here I was. But then, I remembered. NYU wasn’t far really, but it was too far to be sure that Jack would be okay. I thought about it a lot that afternoon, but before my mother got home, I took the acceptance packet and threw it away. I didn’t tell anyone. Then, I signed up for the community college like everyone else, and I lost the two guys who were my only real friends when they left town.
The first year wasn’t so bad. Commuting was actually okay, especially since I still saw Jack a lot and also because it allowed me to continue therapy without anyone knowing. I could keep an eye on my mom, who was having a lot of trouble with her own loneliness, and I was balancing classes with my “extracurricular” activities. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but I still had some sense of it being okay. I felt a lot of shame and guilt, and it got a lot worse after midterms, when Jack and I started having more threesomes, but I was still going to school.
It was my second year that made things unbearable. I was actually supposed to graduate in the spring, but the fall semester got away from me. I started blowing off my classes and spending more and more time at the bar. I skipped classes to get laid, and I ended up failing the entire semester. I told everyone that it was hard to balance school and work, so I was going to take another three semesters and return part-time. But of course, like everything else, it was a lie, and even my fake plan failed.
I signed up for a normal course load in the spring anyway, again without saying anything, and I’d still hoped I could finish in the winter. Then, I got to my ethics class. I suppose it’s ironic that it was ethics. Because I sat down and I took out my notebook and, when I looked up, the seat next to me was taken. By Topher.
“Alana?”
“Oh. Hi, Topher.” It had been a few years, but he didn’t look much different. His hair was longer and it looked like he’d smoke a shitload more weed, but mostly, he was the same guy. And he clearly thought that I was the same girl.
He pulled his desk closer and put his hand on my thigh. “I was pissed when I was kicked out of school and had to start up here, but maybe it’s a positive turn of events, huh?”
“Yeah, sure.” I didn’t move away, because I didn’t feel like making a scene and really, there was only so much he could do in the middle of a classroom. However, that didn’t stop him from following me after class was over.
“Listen, Alana. I’d really love to get together if you have some time. I always liked you,” he said.
“Oh, really? Did you?” After Prom, the only interaction we’d had was when he would grab my ass in the halls or when he’d replay the video of me sucking his dick to anyone who’d missed it. That went on for over a year.
“Sure. I mean, we had fun, right?” he asked.
I stopped walking and faced Topher. “Let’s just get this over with. What do you want from me? Do you really want a date, or do you think I’ll fuck you?”
He laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to you, that’s for sure. But we can have dinner first.”
“Do you have a car?” I asked.
“I do.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“There’s a motel down the street. Let’s just call this what it is. I have three hours before my next class. I’m sure that will be plenty of time,” I told him.
It wasn’t a big production. He wasn’t playing around and we left campus, got to motel, and I let him fuck me up against the wall. He was really into saying my name. I tried to tune him out, but he was a talker.
“Oh, Jesus, Alana, I fucking love your pussy. You are such a fucking crazy slut,” he said and he pushed me harder against the wall. I thought about Jack, about Prom, about everything I’d become, but I had stopped expecting anything else. After Topher came, I waited for him to leave, thinking he’d had enough, but he was just getting started.
I didn’t finish out the semester. I tried, but being in class with Topher was too much. I went back to the motel with him several times. It was almost like a relationship, except we didn’t talk much, unless he was telling me how much he loved the taste of my cunt. I didn’t even feel bad. I didn’t really feel anything, but I just stopped being able to go to school. I never gave him my number, so that was the end of that. And it just got added to the list of secrets I’d kept from my only real friend left in the world.
31
“I chose that,” I tell Melinda.
She nods. “You’re right. You did. But no one said you have to make all the right choices. You were lonely and you had sex. It’s not the end of the world. You’re not a slut because of it.”
“But Topher? I hated him every time I looked at him.”
“Your own self-worth is where you need to focus your energy, not on things that happened or that you’ve done. You did make the choice and it probably wasn’t the best choice, but life doesn’t always follow a perfectly clear path. You know now it was a bad idea, but there’s more than Topher here. You’re not just mad that you slept with him,” she says.
“No, you’re right. I’m mad that I let sleeping with him get to me again. I’m mad that I quit school rather than face him.”
“So go back to school.” She says it with such certainty and, for a second, I don’t have an argument. But then I remember the three and half semesters I already did.
“I obviously can’t do school. I failed at it.”
“That’s not true. You hit a speed bump. That’s not the same as a roadblock.”
“Where would I go?” I ask.
“Anywhere. Let me ask you. What’s keeping you here? Why couldn’t you reapply to NYU now?”
“Well, there’s Jack…”
“There isn’t, though. I hate to be harsh, but there isn’t Jack. He’s moving forward, and you’re just making excuses. I know that you’re scared, that you think you can never be more than people see you as, but it’s your life, Alana. They don’t get to define you. Nothing defines you, except you.”
“But all the things I’ve done-”
“Are things you’ve done,” she interrupts. “You need to take ownership of the bad choices, but you also need to assign blame to those who deserve it. You’re still young. You can still have everything you used to imagine. You just need to believe that you can.”
“No one will want me. I’m used.”
She smiles. “I don’t think that’s true. I think the right person will see past that. Maybe it’s Dave. Maybe it isn’t. But until you tell yourself that Jack is not the only person who cares for you, you won’t be able to see the others who do.”
“You’re being really motivational,” I say, smirking.
She shrugs. “It’s kind of my job.”
****
It’s too late to start at NYU in the spring, but they send me everything I need to apply for the fall. I don’t know if I’ll get in. I don’t know if my grades at the community college will wash out the grades I got in h
igh school, but there’s an essay part and maybe I can tell them my story, too. It seems to be a trend these days.
I go to see Jack a few days before Dave is headed home. I haven’t told him all the things that I need to tell him, but he and Lily are just starting out and I have to figure out what’s going on with Dave, and Jack and I will have forever to deal with the past. Dave’s been emailing and Skyping, and it’s weird how little time has passed and yet how much he has changed. He looks amazing, and I feel somewhat giddy every time I see him. I don’t know what will become of us, but I want a chance to apologize, to try to repair what I should have fixed ages ago.
Jack’s making a list of Christmas ideas for Lily. Of course, he has none. I hate to dampen the holiday cheer, but I want to broach a few things before Dave gets here. Because I need to see him with some clarity.
“Dave’s going to be here soon,” I say, watching Jack scribble notes and toss papers into the bin.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
“Can I be honest?”
He nods and puts the notepad down. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
“I never gave it a chance with him. And I want to deal with that. I don’t know if there’s still hope for a future, but I also want to go into this clear. Of us.”
“You’re my best friend, but I think us ended a long time ago.”
I nod. “I know. It took a while, but I know. And I’m okay with that, Jack. Really. I love Lily. She’s great and, if I wasn’t trying to address this huge mess in my past, I wouldn’t mind spending a lot more time with both of you.”
He laughs, but he shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t want to share.”
“That’s cute. But it’s not important anyway. The thing is, with Dave, it was over before it started. There was Prom and then there was you. Or, I don’t know, maybe there was you, and then there was Prom, and then there was still you. But whatever the case, I never gave it a real shot. And before he left, he told me that there was nothing worth fighting for with us, because I wasn’t ready to let you go.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. But he was right. I wasn’t.”
Jack leans back and looks me over. “I never wanted to hold you back from anything. In fact, the only thing I cared about in this entire fucking universe, until I met Lily, was not being a burden on you.”
“You’re not,” I argue.
He shakes his head. “You know how you asked me if I’d thought about you? That night, before I…?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I did. In fact, I thought a lot about you. It took longer than it should have because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I just didn’t want to hurt you, to let you down, but it was already broken between us. I had already ruined everything.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“If I had gone to Prom with you guys, if I hadn’t been so petty, none of that would have happened. I hated losing you, Alana, but I promised that I would never be that guy. I would never the person they thought I was and I would never treat you the way that they said you should be treated. You’re beautiful. Inside and out, and I fucking destroyed that. I was so hung up on not being like them, that I let you walk into that fucking mess. And after… I couldn’t bear to look at you. Even now, I hate myself most of time when I’m with you, because I could have fucking stopped it.” He looks at his hands, which are shaking. “I didn’t want to leave you, or to hurt you anymore, but I realized that I just couldn’t watch you fall apart. I couldn’t watch you realize that I had let you down. I’m just another asshole. Another fucking source of pain for you.”
“So, you thought I would rather that you were dead?” I ask. “That’s so fucking stupid, Jack.”
“Yeah, well, maybe. But the funny thing is that if I hadn’t been thinking so much about you, I would have done it earlier. And my grandma would have walked in a lot later. So, I guess, in the long run, you kinda saved my stupid mess of a life.”
“That’s fucking hilarious,” I mutter.
“Anyway, yeah. I did think about you. I do love you, Alana. But you need more than some asshole who lets you down all the time,” he says.
He’s right, of course, but I feel like what I need most of all is to stop letting myself down.
32
Even though we had agreed at the beach that it was basically over, saying goodbye to Dave was harder than I expected. We agreed that I wouldn’t go with him to the bus station, instead saying our goodbyes the night before. We had sex and I tried to be present, but it just felt even worse because we both knew it was final. After, he asked me if I thought that Jack and I would pick up where we’d left off, once he was gone. I didn’t know how to answer, so I pretended to be asleep. Then he told me that he loved me and that there wasn’t enough distance or time to change that.
He was gone when I woke up in the morning, without a note or anything. I walked home and, during the walk, I decided I couldn’t let it end like that. My mom was out of town for work, but she’d rented a car so I still had a means of getting to the station. I didn’t have much time and I showered and dressed fast, deciding I didn’t need great hair and makeup to say goodbye. However, I definitely needed to say goodbye. I had thought it would be fine this way, but I’d had a dream that Dave had died overseas and I couldn’t live with myself if I let him leave like this.
The station was really crowded. There’s nothing good in a bus station. It always feel like everyone is carrying their burdens in their luggage and the sense of hopelessness permeates the place. I hate bus stations, and that day was the worst. It was also raining and dark and I felt more like I was walking into a funeral than into a transportation hub.
Dave was alone on one of the benches. He was looking at his cell phone and I realized that he was probably waiting for a message from me. I couldn’t believe his parents weren’t there. I knew that his father wouldn’t show, but I was surprised his mom hadn’t, either. He didn’t see me and I watched him for a while. I knew that he was going into training and then probably off to war or whatever the hell they called it, but he looked so young. I couldn’t imagine him at war, carrying a weapon, hurting anyone. Even though he was a big guy, he was still my friend. And I couldn’t picture my friend killing another human being.
I didn’t want to sneak up on him, so I took out my phone and I texted him. All I said was that I missed him already. When the message popped up on his phone, he smiled, and it was heartbreaking. I saw in his smile that he loved me in a way that no one ever had. And I hated myself because I couldn’t run to him and tell him that I felt the same way. I just didn’t. I cared for him and I would miss him, but I didn’t love him. Not in a long-term way. And when I saw him smile, I realized that I couldn’t fake it enough. I couldn’t walk over to the bench where he was and pretend, because he’d see right through me. I didn’t want him to leave with that memory. Instead, I wanted him to leave with the memory of holding me in his bed, telling me that he loved me, and then believing there was hope for later, even though we’d both agreed there wasn’t.
He texted me back quickly. “I thought we agreed to let this be goodbye.”
I stood in the doorway, where passengers were coming and going, and I watched him. I drafted a hundred replies in my head, but I didn’t send any of them. And then they announced that his bus was boarding. I watched him walk away, still staring at his phone and waiting for the reply that would never come. And then, he was gone.
I got his only letter a few weeks later, and it was clear that any doubt he had about us being over was gone. He didn’t say much about how he felt about the army. He just said that he was moving on, and I let him. I made the choice in the station, in not replying to his text or his letter, and really in every step of our relationship to that point.
33
The bus station looks exactly the same as it did a couple of years ago. Except someone had the brilliant idea of adding holly and greenery to the ticket windows, because nothing says Christmas cheer
like a dirty bus station.
Dave’s supposed to be in around 4:00, which means I have twenty minutes to wait. I get a coffee and sit down, watching the arrivals and departures board and thinking about time. I don’t know what’s different really, except that I opened up and I’m trying. Having Owen around has helped, because he’s getting me to trust him. Then, seeing Jack with Lily and seeing how different they are and yet how open they are with each other gives me hope. All combined with finally feeling comfortable with a therapist and maybe there is a new path forming in front of me.
I’m not delusional. Dave and I have a lot to work through, but I’m also relieved that we waited until now. I don’t think I was ready and at least I feel like I can be honest with him. Our conversations have been short, but I get the impression that he’s looking forward to seeing me.
His bus is early and I see him before he sees me. He’s gotten broader and his head is shaved, but he still mostly looks the same. I think about his body, the way he moves, his eyes, and I feel surprised at how much detail I remember. For a guy whom I was convinced I only cared for as a friend, I certainly memorized the hell out of him naked. I feel stupidly embarrassed thinking about it here and my face gets warm. What’s wrong with you? I think, but that’s all I have time for because he looks up and sees me. His smile is full of two years of questions, but also a look of pure joy. With just a smile, Dave makes me feel like the entire bus station is a stage set and that I’m the only girl who’s ever existed.
He walks slowly toward me and I’m anxious. I feel in my purse for my Xanax, but I don’t take it out. I just wait until he’s close and then he drops his bag at my feet and pulls me into a hug. He smells the same as I remember and his arms engulf me. I just want to curl up alongside him and start over.
“You look amazing,” he says, which is funny because I’m wearing old jeans and a crappy t-shirt. I spent hours going through my clothes, but I kept worrying about the message that each outfit sent. I didn’t want to look slutty in case he thought that I was only coming to see him to start that up again, but I didn’t want to look too disinterested so he thought that there was no way we would start that up again. After finally deciding that I hated everything I own, I went with a t-shirt and jeans. And not even nice ones.
Blue Rose (A Flowering Novel) Page 12
