Better Late Than Never

by Ghiselle St. James

  Becky has been using her mortality as a bargaining chip. It’s cute, but I hate when she jokes about it.

  “Becky, stop that,” I scold her, sitting next to her on the bed. “You’re okay. You have loads of living to do.”

  “But…I mean, we just got close, you know? And now you’re leaving,” she whispers sadly.

  The girls join us on my bed, and we all hug her. The Goddesses of sisterhood are looking down on us from above and laughing at me. The hives I have been expecting don’t come. Instead, I feel sad to be leaving them.

  “I’ll come home as much as I can, okay?” I promise, but even I know that that may not happen. None of them call me on it, though.

  “And make sure you text us and take pictures of all the hot guys,” Monica requests, sniffling.

  “Definitely take pics of hot guys,” Lisa agrees, as does Kelly and Becky.

  These girls.

  I laugh, but they stare at me with straight faces.

  “Oh, yeah, definitely hot guy pictures. Definitely,” I give in, fearing for my life.

  These girls are scary.

  “Promise me though, Becky,” I request, brushing her short hair back. “No dying, okay?”

  She smiles sadly at me, knowing she can’t promise me that; but as she sticks out her pinky finger and I entwine mine with hers, she does.

  If she dies, we are so having problems.

  We finish packing me up, Becky eventually jumping around and helping. At the end of the night, we pig out on pizza, and binge on that show with the hot vampire and his slayer girlfriend. We fall asleep, littered on the floor in sleeping bags in the living room – Becky on the couch. A perfectly bittersweet day.

  The next morning, everyone is here to send me off, even Joy and her parents. I don’t know why I expect to see him, but my heart sinks anyway when I don’t. Grayson sees the forlorn look on my face and comes over to me, providing the strength I need in this moment. Unlike the girls, who will talk and vent with me until I feel better, Grayson Moxam is my Rock of Gibraltar – the strong, silent, and unmovable force in my life.

  After hugging Joy for the fourth time and promising Becky for the tenth that I would call her every half an hour until I get to the campus, my parents and I set off to Florida. I stick my head out the window, waving to my friends and family before they go out of sight.

  Something catches my attention in the distance away from all of them – a white Henley – and my heart does skip a beat then.

  But it couldn’t be him. And the sooner I realize that it will never be him, the better.

  North Shore Florida University is teeming with fresh-faced college kids. Booths are set up all over, welcoming students and giving them directions and information. We find my dormitory, meet my roommate Kasey – who is a little bit too bubbly for my liking – and set up my side of the room, which is by the window.

  “I’ve got a tiny bladder, so the bathroom is like my favorite place after a night of drinking,” Kasey explains with a fit of giggles following.

  Okay…

  I open the door that leads to a small balcony enough to hold three or four people, and I look out at the lush green gardens, listen to the life on the campus and breathe in the crisp Florida air. This is my new life. I stare out at the nameless faces, none of them him. New people, new normal, new me?

  My Dad joins me on the balcony and tucks me under his arm. I wrap my hands around him and take a big whiff, committing his soft masculine musk and weed scent (masked by cologne) to memory.

  “You guys know I know that you smoke weed, right?” I confess.

  Dad stiffens and I could laugh at him. “What gave it away?”

  “The munchies you both get every single time,” I tell him. “Late night snack my ass. I’m not stupid.”

  He ruffles my purple hair and chuckles. “No, baby girl, you aren’t.”

  Mom comes to join us, and she is a weeping mess.

  “Is it weird that I expected you to be the one crying?” I whisper to Dad.

  “The afternoon is still young, kiddo.”

  Downstairs, we say our final goodbyes. Dad sets me off with a kiss on the cheek and a warning to stay out of trouble – his actual words were to stay a virgin – while Mom, fresh from crying – tells me to enjoy the college experience and slaps my ass.

  “Hey, kid,” mom signals with a whistle before they drive off. “You are gonna rock at this.”

  “You bet your sweet ass I will.” Because I am my mother’s daughter and giving up is not an option.

  I watch them as they drive away, a huge chunk of my heart going with them. Remnants of my heart are at home with my friends and family and then another huge piece is with…

  “Hey, there,” a voice calls from behind me, interrupting my train of thought.

  I turn to see a tall, lanky, glasses-wearing guy in khaki shorts, a white t-shirt and board shoes. He’s talking, but somehow my mind is still where my heart is. I grab on to the globe pendant, suddenly feeling grounded.

  “My name is George, so if you have any questions whatsoever, feel free to ask me,” he says with a wide smile.

  “Oh, yeah, definitely, Jeff,” I answer absently before walking away. “I’ll see you around.”

  “I-it’s George,” he corrects as I pass him. “But you can call me Jeff any time!” he calls after me.

  In my room, I start to unpack, enjoying the short reprieve of silence while my roommate is out God knows where. I pull out the scrapbook Kyle made for me last year, my soul feeling halved at not having him around, and a note falls out of it. Picking it up, I notice Kyle’s flashy handwriting and my heartrate intensifies.

  When did he write this? How did I miss it?

  With shaky fingers, I grip the piece of paper tighter as I read and let his words saturate my soul, “You shouldn’t be able to know how I feel, but at the same time I don’t want you to ever forget. The love I have for you is never-ending; it’s longer than forever. It approaches infinity. You are my best friend, Savannah…always. What we have is rare and I fucked it up, I know I did, but I hope that we can salvage our friendship someday. I just hope that day isn’t when we’re old and senile and blind as bats, when we can’t SEE each other. Continue to be light, Savannah, and that special brand of amazing that you always are. Happy birthday when it comes (since I know I’m still blocked). P.s. that’s my favorite day. Love, Kyle.”

  I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can do is feel: hurt, lost, loved…anger. Why does he always do this? How does he say stuff like this and not expect my heart to break? He knows just how to make me swoon and want to punch him in equal measure. I need to break this hold, this spell Kyle seems to have over me, but it’s hard to do when he pours his heart out like this. Life can be so unfair at times and Kyle doesn’t play fair either. The paper crumples in my palm as I struggle to handle all of this.

  I tug my iPod from my pocket and turn it on, the raspy voice coming though the earphones I plugged in asking the question: “Who knew”?

  Who knew life would take this turn? Who knew that my best friend would no longer be my best friend? Who knew that even after everything, I’d still be hopelessly in love with him?

  It sure as fuck was not me.

  At eighteen, life should not be this complicated, but it wouldn’t be me if it wasn’t.

  Ripping the earphones out, I toss my iPod on my newly made bed. Pulling my cell phone out, I dial Becky’s number, tears already filling my eyes.

  “I was just about to send out an APB,” she answers. “It’s been forty-five minutes!”

  “Talk me down from the ledge.” It is a tearful plea, code for: I’m in full-on Kyle crisis mode.

  “Well, I was just about to watch some porn before you called,” she confesses, making me burst into hacks of laughter.

  Funny as it is, I know she isn’t joking, and her truth has done the trick in distracting me from…from…

  He who shall not be named.

  Hmm, it has a nice r
ing to it. Thank you, “boy with the lightning scar.”

  THE LONG WAY HOME

  Chapter Twelve – The Girl with the Crazy Hair

  Kyle – Past

  August 2008

  I STAND IN the distance, the large oak tree on the Millers’ front lawn blocking me, and watch her leave. Mr. Miller is washing his car and gives me a funny look, but when he looks in the direction of his retreating neighbor, he gives me a sympathetic nod before acting like I’m not there.

  I have been in purgatory. These months without her have been torture; and those months since I have had her feels like slow suicide. How do you keep yourself from Heaven after going there? Yet, I know I’m not ready for her. So, I drive over a thousand miles to see her off to her new journey without me, but instead of doing that, here I am lurking like some stalker.

  She sees me, I know she does; but her brows furrow, doubt filling her up. She thinks I don’t care; thinks that I have let her go, but she doesn’t know it’s far from true.

  God is it far from true.

  Savannah Carpenter has been the reason my heart skips multiple beats per minute. She is the reason I want to be a better person. I have felt this way from the very first time I saw her. I knew she would change the course of my life forever, but I also knew I would never be good enough for her.

  Her brand of beauty and uniqueness is rare, and I think I fell for it, for her, from the get-go.

  Kyle – Past

  15 years old

  January 2005

  Closing my locker, I grab my book bag and sling it over my shoulder. Cotton, the shortstop on the baseball team, says something about bagging one of the cheerleaders and the guys laugh, patting him on the back, but I stop in my tracks, my attention elsewhere.

  Who is that?

  Down the hall, a mess of purple curls catch my eye. Not very often you see girls with a full head of purple. Most times it’s a purple streak, giving off a grungy look, but not this girl. Her hair is a medium purple and, somehow, as over-the-top as it is, it works for her.

  She’s new, that much I can tell; not just from the fact that I have never seen her face before, but because every guy she passes cannot seem to take their eyes off her. That only happens when there is fresh meat around. They are like wolves surrounding prey; flies smelling shit.

  Not that she’s shit…um, let’s rewind. Wolves surrounding prey…

  And this girl, with her beautiful purple hair, enchanting smile, and oddball style of dressing, is like a neon sign telling all these hungry wolves to eat her. I bet she would be delicious, too…

  The big guy in my pants starts to stand at attention. “Slow down, buddy. Not the time,” I coax him mentally, hoping he listens this time.

  Fifteen-year-old hormones are a pain in the ass.

  As Cotton continues to entertain us with stories of his latest conquest, I cannot help but stare at this girl. She is beautiful, and even that is an understatement. She is wearing a blue and black polka-dotted dress straight out of the 1950s and red flats. She isn’t the typical teenage girl, yet if she were a carbon copy of the chicks I see around here, I wouldn’t be as interested in her as I am.

  Tom Needleman approaches her bravely and if I were not busy hating his guts, I would pat the kid on the back. Tom’s a linebacker on Rainier’s football team who gets his fair share of tail. The dude’s funny and talented and could actually get drafted in the future. Those qualities aren’t what’s making me wish he would slide on his drool and break his neck, though.

  He is making the purple-haired beauty smile.

  As I witness this phenomenon, I notice how much brighter the school looks and how every other girl pales in comparison. He doesn’t deserve to be so close to such perfection.

  It should be me…

  Tom reaches out and touches her cheek and I hold my breath to see what she’ll do. She looks expectant and I pray to all that is holy that she isn’t like every other Rainier High girl who swoons hard for all the jocks around here. Me included.

  What happens, though, is nothing I expect…

  Purple Hair swats his hand away before pulling him forward then swinging him face front into the lockers and pinning his arm behind him. She puts her mouth to his ear and says something before kissing his cheek and releasing him. With pep in her step, she saunters to her class while everyone else stands and stares after her in shock and awe.

  It would take me another few months to finally work up the courage to talk to her, but that moment is when I think I fell in love with the girl with the crazy hair.

  Kyle – Past

  August 2008

  I swing at the ball coming right at me and hit nothing but air. Disappointed with my strike out, I drop the bat and stomp off to the dugout.

  “Get your head in the game, Moxie!” Coach shouts at me and I want to yell right back.

  Does he think I set out to stink? And isn’t he “Captain of the fucking obvious” …of course I don’t have my head in the game! Two days ago, my best friend left for Florida. It is ten hours away from Duchannes, but it might as well be on the other side of the country. What’s worse…

  I let her go.

  I must be the stupidest son of a bitch on the face of this planet and whichever other one apes occupied in that movie with those damned dirty primates. I love her and I let her go. Those things only work in movies, but in real life, if you let someone slip through your fingers, the Universe is fucked up enough to make it permanent.

  But I let her go for her.

  Surely the Universe can’t punish me for that? Then again, the Universe probably knows my stupid ass doesn’t deserve her anyway, so it may be for the best. And it is in moments like these that I remember her smile, that special smile that would cross her face when she’d sketch a kick ass floor plan; or that secret smile she smiles when her events come together nicely and she doesn’t want to gloat like a dick.

  In these moments I am reminded of her soft, purple hair; I am reminded of how it feels to hold her; how her lips felt on mine; how right she felt beneath me; how I experienced a little bit of Heaven when I was inside of her. And it makes me dig deeper because all of this is for her.

  I get my shit together and walk back out, gripping my bat firmer. “There we go, Moxie!” Coach cheers when I hit a homerun this time.

  And I pretend that I just hit that one for the girl with the purple hair who has my heart.

  December 2008

  Christmas break. Four agonizing months since I last laid eyes on Savi. I thought each day, each week, each month would make it easier – a reality without her at my fingertips – but this distance is enough to drive me crazy most days.

  I have caved a few times and have called my dickhead cousin, Grayson, and asked him about her. She has not lifted my blocked status, so I have had to swallow my pride and reach out to my mortal enemy. He has never made it easy; rubbing the fact that he can see and talk to her whenever he wants in my face every chance he gets.

  But it is a small price to pay just to hear that she has been well, that she has been happy, that she is the same beautiful, effervescent bad ass that she always has been.

  Which is why, instead of going straight home, Savi’s house is my first stop. It has been too long.

  I pull up and have barely shut my engine off before I am sprinting up to her front door. I hear laughter inside and raise my fist about to knock on wood – no pun intended – when the door is swung open.

  There have been very few times when the wind has been knocked out of me. The first time was when I was in middle school and Grayson and I got into a fight over Jenny Pinkerton about who would take her to the Easter Egg Festival. He had sucker punched me and stolen my date. I got the last laugh, though, since she ended up going with Pizza Face, Lachlan Adams, instead.

  The second time I can remember is when I saw Savi for the very first time. And, here again, as I struggle to breathe, she is the reason. She is like light after being in the dark for months. Her bright purpl
e hair is down and the smile she is dressed in makes the world fade away. God, but she is a sight for sore eyes.

  The moment she notices me standing there with my hand positioned to knock on her door, her smile falters. She stares at me for seconds and I’m sure she is about to kick me to the curb. My hand automatically scratches the back of my head and I discreetly sniff my armpit, nervousness sinking deep into my veins.

  I know I should say something, but it has been so long…

  Savi bursts forward and her arms are around me in an instant. Surprise and relief throw me off-kilter and we fall in a heap on the grass. I’m sure she has forgotten that she’s mad at me, that there has been a rip in our friendship, but there is no way I’m ruining this moment. I hold her, even though I am a thousand percent sure that I fell in some of Spike’s shit. Something right settles inside me, grounding me as only time with my best friend can.

  I have missed my Crazy Hair.

  “You’re wearing jeans,” I observe. “How did the apocalypse not happen?”

  Savi snorts out a laugh before slapping at my chest. “Figures you would notice; can’t hide a thing from you.”

  Sarcastic ass.

  I’ve missed that mouth…in more ways than one.

  She helps me up and I take in every curve that the figure-hugging piece of clothing covers. I knew she had curves, but in this pair of hip huggers, she looks filled out. I have to contain myself from reaching out and exploring every single inch of her.

  I may end up humping her leg and that wouldn’t go down well with her Dad who is approaching us right now.

  “Ah, Kyle,” he greets, slapping me on the back. “It’s been a while, but I see you making your parents proud over there at Duchannes as third batter.”

  I shift a look to his daughter, wanting to tell her that none of this is for my parents, but for her, for us. That won’t earn me any points with her, so I keep it to myself.