by Allie Martin
“I know. It’s hard, though. We have another year of being apart.”
I stop Nat from walking and face her, but she keeps her head down. “It’s almost summer; don’t worry about next year yet. You have all next year to worry.” I say and she smiles, but it’s not convincing enough. I shake her shoulders. “It’ll happen. We’ll graduate. You’ll go to his college and get smart, get married, have babies, buy a house, and do all those things you want to do. Then you’ll tell your kids how your time apart made you stronger. Solid.” I say it like I mean it. I really want to mean it.
There’s doubt in her eyes, but more than that, there’s pity—all the things I can’t plan on doing because there’s no point yet.
“Don’t make this about me, Natalie.” It’s as stern a tone I can conjure. “You’re allowed to plan your life.”
Nat steps back, and we both suck in big breaths to snap the tension. We’ve never gotten this close to actually talking about my potential lack of future. Like, for real talking about it. At the exact right moment, Jordan throws an arm around each of our shoulders.
“Things feel like they got really serious really fast over here.”
“Nat misses her boyfriend. He’s away at college.”
“Well, my services as a pretend boyfriend are second to none.” Jordan winks at Nat, and she ducks out from under his arm. I slap his stomach, and he makes an ‘oof’ sound. “What? Oh, I’m a monogamous fake boyfriend? Gotcha.”
Nat is almost back to normal-Nat when Jordan uncaps his pen and takes her by the hand, tugging her to a lamp post. He tilts his whole upper body so he’s writing vertically on the thick green post that holds up the orange light above. When he steps back, Nat wraps her arms around her stomach, and her shoulders scrunch up to her ears. I move closer and angle my head so I can read Jordan’s words as they curve up the metal.
Even on the darkest night, the stars around us burn.
“That’s sweet.” I pat Nat’s shoulder as she gets her phone and takes a picture of the words. I twist and start walking again, the hotel now in sight. No more than three steps and Nat speaks.
“He slept with someone else.”
I freeze mid-step and so does Jordan. I’m curious about her words but too scared to turn around and face her.
“What?” I glance over my shoulder. She’s focused on the lamp post as if she’s been ordered to kill it if it moves. “Aaron. He had sex with someone else.”
This time I spin so fast I get dizzy. “Natalie!”
Her eyes are glossy, and I wrack my brain to remember the last time she cried. My first seizure? No. Well, yes. She cried, but that wasn’t the last time. Her Nana’s funeral. Yeah, that’s it. Over a year ago.
“He said he couldn’t help it. That because I wanted to wait—”
Jordan scoffs a loud disgusted noise.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “This isn’t my business, but that’s bullshit. He couldn’t help it?” He puts up his hands and steps away. “I’m done. Sorry. Backing up now.” He turns and disappears into the darkness outside the street light’s reach, leaving me and all my stunned emotions to sort themselves out.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I struggle to keep the irritation from my voice.
"I couldn't." She wraps her arms tighter around herself.
"What do you mean you couldn't? When did this happen?" My own arms cross as we face off in the flood of orange light. Nat shrugs, angling her expressive eyes down.
"When?"
"New Year’s." Her voice is so small, but the words topple me.
"New Year’s?" I squeak as I talk, but I'm not as shocked as I sound. Right after we went back to school after Christmas Break was the last time I fought with Nat. She called me a Scrooge, complete Nat-level meltdown, all because I made some tiny comment about something I can't even recall anymore. That's how unimportant it was.
"He went to that party... the one my parents wouldn't let me go to because it was all graduates."
A couple nights before she freaked on me.
"He told me right away. He was more upset than I was..."
"I can't believe you didn't say anything."
“It’s not like you don’t have enough to deal with,” Nat says.
“That’s not why you didn’t tell me.” I know it’s not. “You didn’t tell me because you thought I’d say I told you so.”
Nat’s features are shadowed with distinct anger, or maybe resentment, but mixed in her tormented eyes there’s something else. She’s begging me to figure it out so she doesn’t have to say it. But as my frown gets deeper so does my confusion.
“This isn’t only about New Year’s, is it?” The words release her from whatever enclosure she had trapped herself in, and tears begin to spill down her face. “What else happened, Natalie?”
My heart is working too hard to process my anger, and the sound of it mixing with Nat’s sobs is creating a storm inside my head. My first thought is that I’ll kill him. I’ll fly to Denver right now and crush him, but I’m still not sure what he did that seems to be more horrible than cheating.
I hug Nat on the cold street as her tears soak my sweater. “Hey, let’s get back to the hotel, and we’ll talk there okay?” I guide her alongside me, unable to think of the last time, or any time, I've been the one picking up the pieces of Nat. Theatrics are her thing, so I’m used to drama, but this is real. Something has hurt her, and I feel like it happened in the last half hour. No. I know it happened in the last half hour.
Jordan's standing in the hotel lobby, wholeheartedly uncomfortable with his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. I step away from Nat and to him.
“I should probably go, right?” he asks.
“Yeah, I need to talk to her alone.”
“Fair enough,” he says, lightly threading his fingers through my hair. There’s an awkward air of uncertainty between us as he scans my face. “Are you still meeting up for midnight breakfast?”
I look over my shoulder at Nat who’s tapping away on her phone and shrug. “I don’t know, Jordan—”
He slides his fingers further into my hair, his mouth is on mine, and the words dissolve from my tongue. It’s a kiss to end all kisses, or that’s what it feels like in this moment.
“In case you don’t make it.”
He uncaps his pen and takes my wrist.
“I’m almost out of skin for you to write on, you know.” I tease him, but silence falls over me. He runs his gaze down my body and lets my arm drop from his grip.
“I doubt that.” He leans forward again and kisses the tip of my nose before turning. “I really hope this isn’t goodbye, Evan.”
He’s gone before I examine my wrist expecting words, and my heart stutters when I read a number.
Me too, I think.
11:30 PM
Nat flops face first onto her hotel bed, and I sit next to her, crossing my legs beneath me. We sit in silence as the clock on the little wooden nightstand between our beds ticks away the minutes.
The last time we sat like this, we were fifteen, and it was the other way around. My eyes were puffy and sore and hers concerned.
“You want to go show me some stuff on your telescope?” Nat said gingerly after the silence became like black hole, sucking all the happiness out of the world, slowing down time and memories only to crush them into nothingness. I shook my head, fresh tears forming.
“She’ll come back, Evan,” Nat said, but there was zero conviction in her voice. The bed bounced as she shifted uncomfortably next to me. I shook my head again.
“No she won’t, Nattie.” I was full-out sobbing again. “She took everything. She’s gone.”
She took everything, except me. I cried for her. I cried for her like she had died. I cried for her like I’d never cried for anything.
Nat sat next to me and braided my hair over and over until I was completely empty, until she gutted me of all my strength, and all I could do was stare at a small tear in the kn
ee of Natalie’s jeans.
“She took everything,” I whispered.
11:40 PM
I don’t say anything to Nat until eleven forty. “This all kind of came out of nowhere.”
How fitting that sentence is for our whole day.
Nat rolls onto her back, staring at me with red rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry, Evan. I was going to tell you, but I knew you’d give me the look.”
“What look?” I feel my nose scrunch up.
“That look.” She pokes my cheek.
“You don’t deserve to be cheated on, Natalie. I’ll always have that look.”
She sighs and rolls over again. “I know. He was really upset. He cried, Evan. He sobbed and bought me flowers and called me every five minutes. I had a thousand apology texts. He showed up at my house. We talked and I forgave him. He said he wouldn’t do it again.”
I purse my lips, but she starts to cry again.
“I called him tonight,” she says through hiccups. “And a girl answered.”
“What about his roommate? Does his roommate have a girlfriend?”
“Aaron lives alone, Evan.”
“Oh...” I cast my eyes down and pick at the deep crimson comforter on the bed.
“Yeah... oh. And who answers someone else’s cell phone anyway? I wouldn’t even answer your phone unless you knew I was going to, and you’ve been my best friend forever.”
Her phone beeps, but Nat doesn't move to answer it. It flashes face up on the bed between us.
"That's him?" I ask, even though his name is displayed across the screen. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." She flips over the phone. “This can't be same girl as Christmas. She answered his phone, EJ... That’s like trust or something. You think he loves her?” I get the feeling she’s more upset he could love someone other than her than the fact that he had sex with another girl. "What if over Christmas he cheated on both of us?"
"Nattie..." My voice is a near whisper. I never thought of that.
"Tell me what to do, Evan."
I know what she should do, but I don't have the guts to tell her.
“Nattie...” I say again but can’t bear to finish my thought. Jordan’s words come tumbling back to me.
Sex and love.
Connections.
Nat wipes the tears from her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “I feel so stupid,” she says, and I take her hand, my eyes catching the little ring around her finger.
“You’re not stupid.” It’s all I can think of to say, but I can’t focus on anything beyond the ring. "You're in love."
Natalie scoffs and yanks the ring from her finger. "Same thing, right?"
Just then there's a knock at the door and I get up to answer it.
Mom's smile quickly falls from her face as she enters our room. Her black dress is tight across her fit body in a way that says, “I’m trying to hide the fact that I’m a mom by overdoing everything” (I guess the beef-cake boyfriend was her personal trainer... still is her personal trainer? Anyway, yeah. That cliché happened).
Mom practically waddles in her high heels. My ankles hurt at the thought of walking in them. She never used to be this way. She wore jeans and sweaters and knelt in sandboxes, dug in gardens, laid with me in the grass on starry summer nights. My heart aches for those memories.
Mom's hand goes to her chest when she sees Nat, and her gold bracelets jangle together. He buys them for her. One thin band for every year they’ve been together... If those were Dad’s bracelets, both of her arms would be so full she couldn’t bend them. High school sweethearts to mid-life divorcees. I wonder if that will be Nat and Aaron. God, I hope she gets out.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Mom’s voice goes sickly sweet, and I have to clasp my arms to keep them from shaking.
“She’s fine, Mom,” I say sharply, putting myself between her and Nat. “She’s fighting with Aaron. She’ll get over it.”
Mom opens her mouth (to give me crap about my attitude probably) when Nat's phone rings again. She springs up from the bed and hurries into the bathroom. Mom and I jump at the sound of the slamming door. Nat’s voice is shrill and high and the paper-thin walls of the hotel almost amplify the sound rather than muffle it.
"Listen to yourself, Aaron," she shrieks. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I'm going to buy that bullshit story? Who is she really? I know she's not the same girl...Yes really...Here's a question for ya, stud. How many girlfriends do you have?” Nat growls loudly, and it crescendos into a frustrated scream. “I'm done Aaron. We’re done. You don't get to say sorry anymore.”
The room goes silent, and Mom and I both shift uncomfortably. We both act like we didn't hear anything when Nat comes out with a big fake smile on her face.
"Natalie, are you okay?" Mom asks. Her face contorts for half a second before she gathers herself. She doesn't want our night to be done yet either, but I see she's torn. I am too—split into little wedge shaped pie pieces of varying sizes representing various desires like a chart.
One piece says stay and be with Nat. She is three years deep into this relationship, and that's a lot of climbing for one person to do alone. Single Nat was a lifetime ago.
Another piece says I have my whole life to comfort Nat, and I'm not ready to leave Jordan.
Yet another piece clearly states that going for midnight breakfast with our favorite band is plain dumb to miss.
But the biggest piece of all knows that I will gladly do whatever she needs me to do, like she has always done for me. I will sit and braid her hair while she cries if that’s what she needs.
Nat holds Mom’s gaze and moves toward her, throwing her arms around Mom's neck. "Thanks, I'll be okay, but I want to veg and watch a ton of stupid movies that make me hate love."
Mom pats Nat's head and hugs her back. "I understand, dear. The first love is hard to get over."
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I press my palm even harder to the incision under my collarbone. It's supposed to have some sensor in it that picks up when my heart changes, but my anger moves faster than machinery, faster than sound or light.
I clutch my sweater in my fist, but Mom doesn't see me as I fight down a scream clawing its way straight from my lungs.
Liar! Dad was your first love! I want to yell it, but I draw in a calculated breath all the way from my diaphragm like my yoga instructor taught me.
Mom pats Nat's cheek before pulling my stiff body in for a hug. She kisses my forehead and turns to waddle in her tiny skirt out of the room.
"Not too much later girls, ‘kay? We have an early morning." Mom pauses at the doorway, lingering for a moment and catching my eye.
As soon as the door shuts, I rush to Nat and wrap her in a hug. She rests her head on my shoulder, and her body feels heavy and tired.
"We can just watch movies, Nattie." I rub her back and she snaps.
"And miss our chance to hang out with Lemming Garden? Fat chance. Aaron doesn't get to win this time. I'm not ditching a once-in-a-lifetime moment for him. I won't." Nat settles her face into the determination I've only ever seen on her Nana Rosie. I confessed things to Nana Rosie I swore I wouldn't tell a soul all because she shot me one terrifying glare. “Cheating bastard isn’t stealing this from me...” Nat continues in Spanish.
"Are you sure?" I ask, but the smile is already finding its way to my lips. Nat squeezes me into a hug again.
"I'm sure. Tonight we live in a bubble. You and Jordan, me and the drummer... or the brass player? Maybe Hector?" She winks even though there's sadness in her eyes. "Next weekend we will have a pity party for me, complete with Zac Efron, ice cream, and a pound of cookie dough."
"Your secret love of High School Musical is embarrassing, Nattie. It’s not even cool anymore...like, at all.”
She flips me off, and I laugh.
“Only if you're sure. Jordan doesn't matter."
She lightly slaps my cheek. "You're so funny. Of course
he matters. It's okay to let it happen. Stop trying to keep everyone out." She hoists her suitcase onto the bed and rummages through it.
"So they can break my heart?" I point to her leather coat I know she's searching for.
Nat wipes her fingers under her eyes to smooth her makeup and I hate that she doesn't get red and puffy like I do.
"No one can break your heart, silly."
"Right. 'Cause it's already broken..."
Nat takes her makeup bag out next and heads to the bathroom, pausing at the door. “You know, EJ? All things considered, Jordan wouldn’t be such a bad guy to get your heart broken by...” She frowns and taps her fingernail against the doorframe before disappearing inside.
Friday, April 19 • 11:50 PM
Jordan
Snapping the small square packet, I stare at the steam spiraling up from my coffee cup as Rick rambles in the booth next to me. I rip the top off the sugar, and the sweet smell brings Evan back to the front of my mind.
“Hey, brain-dead.” Rick hits my shoulder, and the sugar spills across the blue and white plastic table cloth at Angela’s Diner. The little overlapping circles like ocean waves with frothy sugar crests. “I asked you a question.”
I shift against the cracking powder blue vinyl seats as we wait in the brightly lit, but almost empty restaurant. “Sorry, man. What did you ask?”
“I asked if Annie texted you. She’s been calling me non-stop, asking if I'm still with you. Told her to call you if she’s so concerned with what you’re doing.” Rick’s voice falls to a hush while he spins a spoon against the table top.
“She is your cousin...” I say and Rick glares.
“I ain’t her keeper, though. Or yours. You know how I feel about that.” Rick slides the little ceramic bowl that holds more sugar packets my way. I don’t respond. He understands what Annie is to me. She’s like a cigarette; I inhale her as deep into my lungs as I can, but the more often I do it, the duller my senses get and the more of her I need. Like a cigarette, I get how she’s bad for me. I’m completely aware she does nothing other than slowly kill me one breath at a time.
