Dating the It Guy

by Krysten Lindsay Hager

“I slept in for once, got my car washed, and worked out. What about you?” he asked. I said I went to a movie with Rory.

  The movie started and it was a lot scarier than I anticipated. When the Mummy’s wrappings came off his decomposed face, Brendon put his hand up to shield my eyes.

  “Sorry, I know you hate gross stuff,” he said.

  “Yeah, didn’t expect it.”

  He put his arm around the back of my seat, and it was just like when we had been going out. I forgot how much I missed it.

  After the movie, we stopped for coffee at the bookstore. We sat on the comfortable couch in the café, which was never available, and he brought a stack of magazines over for us to look at. I read a gossip magazine, while he read Newsweek. I always liked the way he and I could sit without having to talk all the time. We only had uncomfortable silences back when we first started dating, when I was a nervous wreck around him.

  “Do you want to split a cookie?” he asked.

  “Depends. Those huge ones no one can finish or a regular-sized one?” I asked, smiling.

  “You know I’d never share a regular-sized one.”

  “Just checking.”

  When he took me home, I wondered if he was going to kiss me as he walked me to the front door. We hadn’t specifically called this a date, and I still wasn’t sure if Lauren or Nicola were in the picture. I wanted to get back together, but I didn’t know what he wanted, and I was too spineless to ask. He ended up only kissing me on the cheek, but it definitely wasn’t the kind of kiss you give to your grandmother.

  Chapter 21

  The next day, Brendon waited for me after class.

  “Hey, you’re not wearing all your bracelets,” he said. After talking with Cheryl at the psychic fair, I had been wearing my crystals less and less.

  “I’m not super into them right now.”

  “But you are wearing your watch,” he said, smiling.

  “Well, it goes with the outfit.”

  He laughed, and then reached over and took my hand. Okay, holding my hand in the hallway definitely meant something.

  “Hey, are you going to math lab today? Because I can drive you home after class as long as you don’t mind waiting for me during my seventh hour.”

  “I should go to work on my homework, so yeah, it’d be great.”

  I was in the math lab when he came to pick me up. Darren raised his eyebrows at me as he walked past us out of the room.

  “What’s his problem?” Brendon asked.

  I just shrugged, and we left to go to get something to eat.

  “Stargazer Deli, okay?” he asked.

  “Sure.” It was the one of the few fast-food restaurants we could agree on. He always got the bacon classic cheeseburger, and I ordered a peanut butter and banana sandwich and fries.

  “So I applied to my dad’s alma mater last month,” he said.

  “Have you heard anything yet?”

  He shook his head, and I told him he’d probably get in.

  “You think so? Sam told me I didn’t have a prayer,” he said, jamming a fry into his mouth.

  “Why? You’re an honor student, you’re on a million committees, and you played soccer last year. What else are they looking for? Nomination for sainthood?” I asked.

  “Well, you have to be in the top ten percent of your class,” he said. “I am, but I’m having problems in my physics class. I even got myself a tutor.”

  “You’ll be fine. My grandma always says worrying about something doesn’t solve it, so just concentrate on doing your best,” I said.

  “Makes me wish I had told you before I told Sam.”

  “Will your dad be upset if you don’t get in?”

  “Well, all the men in my family have gone to one of two schools and only because two of them wanted to focus on constitutional law, so I pretty much have to get into one of them or else it’s like I don’t measure up, you know?”

  No, I didn’t, and I couldn’t imagine the amount of pressure he was feeling.

  “Did you apply to both?”

  “Yeah, and to a safety school. Sad thing is my safety school is my own first choice,” he said.

  “What does your dad say about the safety school?”

  “Huh? Oh, he has no clue it’s where I want to go. I mean, I mentioned it had some great programs, but he basically blew me off.”

  “Does it have a better journalism program than the other two?” I asked.

  He stared at me while chewing his French fry. “Yup, and it’s where my favorite newscaster went to school. They help you get internships, bring in guys from the field—people who have gone in with the troops in Afghanistan and the reporter who was captured in Syria came last year. I watched a video of his talk online and it was epic.”

  “Your whole face lights up so much when you talk about this stuff. You need to try to talk to your dad again about it. Or maybe your mom.”

  “It won’t go anywhere. My mom goes along with what my dad says, and there’s no way he’d ever be okay with it,” he said. “There is a scholarship to get in, and it’s pretty prestigious. He might take it seriously if I won it, and maybe he’d entertain the idea of letting me go there for a semester, but then I know he’d make me transfer.”

  “Are you going to apply for it?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d have to write an essay on what story the news isn’t telling today and why it isn’t being covered.”

  “Do you have any ideas for it?”

  “A couple. One on race relations, one on military suicides, and another on how families that decades ago would have fallen into the middle class are now living just above the poverty line.”

  “Wow, that’s heavy stuff. Which one are you going to write on?”

  “I’ve written something for all three, but I don’t know which one to submit. If I do the military one, I risk my dad losing votes if my essay ever became public. And if I hand in the one about families…well, then people could go over my dad’s voting record and point out anything he voted for which might have caused anything like what I’m writing about. The race one is controversial, but probably the safest bet.”

  “Which one are you the most passionate about?”

  “The military suicide one. My cousin had a hard time when he came back from being overseas and…well, one of my family members attempted suicide once, and I know there’s a stigma about it.”

  “Then why don’t you go with what you’re passionate about? People should be able to separate what you do from your dad,” I said.

  Brendon stared out the window for a minute. “I’ve never told anyone this—not even a lot of people in my family know this—but the person who attempted suicide was my brother.”

  “Jayson?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it’s part of the reason he’s taking time off from school. They say he’s doing work with my dad, but he’s going to therapy, and nobody wants to rock the boat.”

  “I had no idea. What happened?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know the whole story because it happened while he was away at school. His roommate was gone for the weekend, and luckily he called my mom, and they went up there and got him before things got too far. Jayson’s never told me everything or how it went down, but now you know why I got so upset when I saw Brooke with her new boyfriend.”

  “Does she know what went on with Jayson?” I asked.

  “I think she knows something went on, but I don’t think she knows how far it went. You know what drives me nuts about this whole thing? Why do we have to keep it so quiet? I get they don’t want Jayson’s personal business out there in the street, but even at home they never talk about it. My dad tells him he can come to him with anything, but you can tell Dad is uncomfortable about it, and my mom keeps her books on suicide and depression hidden in her bedroom where the maid won’t see them. Mom won’t order books online or download them because someone might trace them to her and wonder why she’s buying them—I heard her say those words to my dad.”


  “Wow, is Jayson doing better?”

  “I think so—hope so anyway. Family secrets suck. You know, they used to hide away Grandpa once he got sick so people could remember him the way he was. What’s wrong with the way he is now? He had a stroke—nothing to be ashamed of. Yet when everything was going on with Jayson, they had Grandpa come to one of Dad’s speeches, and I feel like it was to put the focus on Grandpa, so anyone who might be curious about why Jayson left school wouldn’t pay attention to it.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all of this.”

  “Yeah, but I’m glad I told you. I feel a little better talking about it.”

  Reaching over, I squeezed his hand. I didn’t need to ask him where we stood. Just knowing he could confide in me was all I needed.

  “You can always talk to me.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter 22

  The next day, Mr. Horowitz wanted us to go outdoors and write about nature in our journals. The memorial area seemed like the perfect spot, but I could hear a bunch of noisy kids playing soccer nearby. I had been there for five minutes when I noticed a spider web attached to my jeans. Between swatting at bugs and my hair blowing everywhere, I ended up writing about how next time I would remember to bring a hair clip. When Mr. Horowitz read my piece, he wrote I should let nature “overtake me” and not focus on the “outside world,” but on the natural world. Whatever.

  When I got home, Dad said Grandma had been throwing up again.

  “Mom’s been there all day. Do you want me to drop you off?” he asked.

  Dad drove me to the hospice, and Grandma seemed so helpless lying there. I had never seen her so vulnerable. I was used to her hauling huge laundry baskets, cooking goulash, and yelling at game shows on TV, not lying there half-unconscious. There was this part of me that kept thinking if she wanted to, she could make herself well again. If she cared about us, she would fight and get out of this stupid bed and go home and make a pot of vegetable soup, and we could eat some carrot-cake muffins. Sometimes I felt like she was in there somewhere, and I almost wanted to scream loud enough for her to hear me.

  I read to her for a while, and my mom said she had a migraine and wanted to go home. As we were driving, I checked my social media sites and saw a bunch of my friends posting about what they were doing after school. It was all stuff like practices, clubs, hanging out with friends, or their boyfriend or girlfriend. Then there was a post of Katia with her grandma, and they were going to yoga class together. Seeing everyone with their normal, uncomplicated lives was hard enough, but seeing Katia’s grandma on a yoga mat while mine hadn’t made eye contact with anyone in days? It was too much.

  As soon as Mom pulled into the driveway, I grabbed my purse and told her I was going for a walk. I went all the way down to the elementary school in our neighborhood. There were a bunch of kids on the swings, and I wanted to be alone, so I went over and sat on the bleachers next to the baseball diamond. It was the first time I had been in complete silence in a long time. I tucked my hair into my jacket collar, put my phone ringer off, and stared into space. As long as I was outside I figured I might as well do my nature journal assignment, so I pulled a notebook out of my purse and found a pen. I started writing about the bugs and about how cold I was, but pretty soon it was all about the stuff I had been dealing with recently. I filled three and a half pages, but when I stopped to look it over, it shocked me what I had put down on the paper. I wrote how I didn’t feel my writing was as good as everybody else’s and how I didn’t know if I would have been able to handle interning at the newspaper. Then I wrote about my feelings on how I wasn’t sure if I was good enough for Brendon and if he actually liked me, and how there was a part of me which felt like if my grandmother truly loved me then she’d fight harder. I felt guilty even writing it, but I felt I needed to write it down because a little part of me had these nagging feelings.

  I walked home, and Mom told me Brendon and Rory had called the home phone. Since I didn’t feel like talking to anyone, I went upstairs to read. Kylie called later, and I had to pick up for her.

  “Zach’s driving me nuts. He went to Moby’s with his friends the other night, and I thought he and I were doing something at night, so I was at home waiting for him to call while he was out with his stupid friends,” she said.

  “I hate men,” I said.

  “I thought you and Brendon worked things out,” she said. “Hold on, other line.”

  She came back and said it was Zach calling to apologize.

  “What was his excuse?” I asked.

  She said he didn’t realize she wanted to go out, and he said he’d make it up to her. He even made a special playlist for her. Gag me.

  “And you’re going to let him get away with it?” I said.

  “It’s not like he ran over my puppy,” she said.

  “Men are so self-centered. I feel like maybe I’m letting Brendon get away with too much stuff—like, yeah, we’re getting along, but he did blow off a big moment for me, and the whole Lauren dance thing. Plus, I never—”

  “You like him, right?”

  “Yeah, but why should I always have to—”

  “Give in?” she said.

  “Right. I’m getting mad all over again,” I said.

  “Okay, you can tell me I’ve been reading too many of my mom’s self-help books, but don’t you think maybe you’re getting mad at him to push him away?” she said. “Hold on, let me get my copy of Being You.”

  She came back on the line. “It says sometimes we put up roadblocks because we don’t feel worthy of something, and we run from our fears instead of facing them.”

  “So you think I’m not good enough for him?” I asked. “You said it at the football game—”

  “I didn’t—the book said it. Maybe you feel unsure about some stuff, and instead of dealing with—”

  This was getting way too close to what Cheryl had said. “Not in the mood for a therapy session right now. My grandma’s still in a coma, I still have my stupid journal thing to type up, my grandpa’s—I’m just not in a good mood right now,” I said.

  “You don’t say. What’s wrong with your grandpa?” she asked. “Is he sick, too?”

  I didn’t feel like going into the whole “my grandpa was wetting the couch, and he doesn’t even realize my grandmother’s gone half the time” thing.

  “He’s just upset over my grandmother,” I said.

  “Listen, I’m working at the coffee shop after school if you want to stop by. If my manager’s not around, I’ll slip you an apple cinnamon muffin,” she said.

  “Okay, I’m supposed to wait for Brendon after school. I’ll tell him to meet me there.”

  I dropped by the bagel shop after class, and Kylie made me a white chocolate soy latte and gave me a chocolate chip muffin since they were out of the apple cinnamon ones.

  “White chocolate is our new coffee flavor, but so far all of mine have been too sweet or not sweet enough,” she said.

  “It could do with a touch more chocolate,” I said.

  She put more flavoring in my latte and said she brought Being You for me to look at.

  “Is this the book your mom reads while she’s in the bathroom?” I asked. “Maybe I should wear rubber gloves or something.”

  She rolled her eyes, and I thumbed through it to make her happy. She had stuck a bookmark in the chapter on self-sabotaging, as if she was being subtle. Brendon came to pick me up, but said he had to drop me off without hanging out because he had a student council meeting at seven o’clock. I wanted to talk to him about my grandmother, but instead I was home in time to work on my math.

  On Friday, Grandma’s breathing had gotten worse. The nurses said she might not pull through, and Mom and I went to sit with her. I wasn’t sure what to say because I didn’t want to talk to her like this was our last conversation. Even though things were looking worse and worse, I still didn’t want her to know I thought she might die. We stayed for three hours re
ading from her prayer books, but Grandma didn’t even stir. Mom went straight to bed when we got home, but I stayed up listening to music and crying and didn’t fall asleep until four in the morning.

  Chapter 23

  My parents went to the hospital early the next morning. Later Aunt Caroline and Uncle George came to the house, and I went with Caroline to the hospital while George stayed with Grandpa. The doctor told us to prepare ourselves, and I felt frozen inside. I wanted to scream, asking how you prepare yourself for something like this. Was it like bracing for a car accident? It seemed so crazy to say you could get ready for something like this.

  We all took turns talking to Grandma. I sat outside her room wondering what to say to her for the final time. How did you sum up all those years in one moment? Aunt Caroline came out of the room and told me I could go in next. Standing up, my legs felt shaky. My anxiety spiked as I walked into her room. An unfamiliar, sickening sweet smell hit me. I had no clue what it was—it certainly wasn’t the antiseptic cleaner I was used to smelling in this place. It almost made me gag. Grandma looked waxy and lifeless on the bed. I had seen her sleeping many times, and this wasn’t anything like that peaceful dozing she did on the couch. This was a deep trance that made me look over at the monitors to see if she was still with us.

  “Grandma,” I said, reaching for her hand. “We’re all praying for you, and I don’t want you to be scared. Please know that we’ll take care of Grandpa and do everything we can for him. I love you so much—” My voice broke, and the tears streamed down my face. Pretty soon I was crying so hard I began coughing and gagging. Aunt Caroline came into the room and put her arms around me.

  “It’s okay, Em. She knows. There’s nothing more you need to say. She knows your heart.”

  Aunt Caroline and I left, and we were just pulling in the driveway when Uncle George came out of the house.

  “The hospice just called. They said she passed away,” he said.

  I just stood there frozen in the driveway until Caroline pushed me back in the car.