Better Late Than Never

by Ghiselle St. James

  “Thanks, sir,” I say, an insecure feeling settling over me. It’s still strange hearing all the fuss people create over me and what I can do on a baseball field sometimes.

  Savi notices. She knows me well enough to pick up every nuance and gesture.

  “Dad, c’mon, stop fangirling,” she reprimands. “Next, I’ll find a poster with Kyle on it in your room.”

  Mr. Carpenter goes silent before he hustles inside the house and up the stairs. The thought of him having a poster with me on it should weird me out, but this is Savi’s Dad. They are cut from the same cloth. If I can love her and all her weirdness, I can surely accept his.

  “So, what brings you here?” She is nervous.

  We are sitting face to face on her front steps, our knees touching and, although she seems to have controlled her nervous tell – grabbing on to the ends of her hair – I can still see the slight tremor of her hands.

  “I missed my best friend,” I tell her honestly.

  A whispered intake of breath is all I hear from her. Bright, blue eyes stare at me, her pink, full lips part, but no sound comes out. Slowly, her hand finds the end of her crazy, beautiful purple hair and she tugs on it.

  “I’ve missed you more than I can even put into words.”

  “Kyle,” she whispers in a tremulous voice.

  Tears billow in her eyes like a storm of emotions ready to rip through her. When I reach out and stroke her cheek, she recoils as if I’ve burned her, and fuck if that doesn’t sting. I don’t know what I expected, but that was not it.

  “Kyle, you’ve been gone so long,” she says, shaking her head. “You can’t just waltz back into my life like everything is okay.”

  “But it is–”

  “No!” she hisses. “It’s not. I’ve changed, things have changed.”

  “Sav–”

  The door opens, cutting off her sweet name on my lips and I see her quickly dash tears from her face. A guy walks out, short black hair, V-neck white shirt, ripped jeans, barefooted and wearing black-rimmed glasses like he’s a stunt double for that superhero reporter.

  I am about to introduce myself to her cousin, but then I see a wide, dazzling smile break out on her face and it momentarily stuns me. She is more beautiful now than four months ago when she drove away from this very spot and took my heart with her.

  How is that even possible?

  “Hey, babe.”

  “Hey, yourself.” I see Savi’s lip move and hear her speak, but I’m stuck…

  Stuck on her beauty. Stuck on the fact that I am in her presence after the year we’ve had. Stuck on this guy calling her “babe”. Stuck on the fact that she hasn’t punched him in the Adam’s apple for calling her a tiny human “like some pedo”, as she would normally say. Stuck on the fact that she did not correct him. Stuck on her staring at him as if he hung the moon with his dick.

  Stuck on the fact that her smile is not for me.

  “So, who’s this?” he asks.

  “Oh, this is Kyle,” she answers before sidling up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

  The sight does something to me. My jaw tightens and my fists automatically curl, ready to throw punches. He doesn’t deserve to touch her; doesn’t deserve whatever affection she is throwing his way. It shouldn’t be him that she is holding on to. It should be me.

  Because it has always been her.

  “Oh, Kyle,” he drags my name out like it is some kind of secret they share. I don’t like it. “Best friend, Kyle,” he adds.

  I want to smile. She’s been talking to this prick about me. I wonder how much?

  “Yeah, I’m her best friend,” I say. “We did everything together.”

  I hope neither of them miss it…the pun is most definitely intended.

  My poker face slides on and I see his slip for a fraction. Savi’s eyes bulge almost out of her head and she coughs a little.

  “So, you are?” I question, feeling like I have regained the upper hand.

  And by the way he stutters his response, I reckon I have.

  “Y-yeah, I’m C-Cam,” he stammers out. “Short f-for…”

  “Lemme guess, Cameron?” I interrupt, enjoying making this reject Clarke Kent flinch.

  “Uh, um, no, it’s uh…C-Camelot.”

  I pause at his response because…he cannot be fucking serious.

  “Camelot, as in, sword in the stone?” He is fucking with me…has to be.

  “Yeah, Camelot.” This time Savi answers, and when I look at her, she has a hard, pissed off look on her face and I literally see her grabbing my shirt and threatening me.

  “Do not make fun of my boyfriend, or I will cut your balls off and wear them as earrings.”

  I hear your silent warning loud and clear, Crazy Hair.

  “I’ll be right in, babe,” Savi says to Cam. “Go in and warm up the bed for me.”

  My heart stutters to a halt in my chest and then it breaks when she rises on tiptoes and places a lingering kiss on his cheek. He looks down at her with all the adoration in the world and then he looks at me and holds his hand out, victorious.

  “It was nice to meet you, Kyle,” he offers, a smirk on his face.

  He has won this pissing match, and he knows it. Prick.

  “Yeah, nice.” Shaking his hand, I hold myself back from busting his nose with my face. He’d deserve it.

  And why is his hand so damn soft? Fucking goddammit!

  He leaves and goes back into the house and I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s me and Savi again, like it was always meant–

  “If you ever try to piss all over me like that again in front of Cam, I will whip out my tits and make him lick them while you watch,” Savi threatens, slicing into my thoughts with her words sharpened and intending to kill.

  The image both turns me on and pisses me off. That mouth…

  I hold my hands up in defeat, deciding that today isn’t the day to show her what was always there all along – that she and I fit, that we are meant to be together.

  We sit and talk tensely for another few minutes before my Mom calls me wondering where I am. We part with a stiff hug, but she lingers, and I hear her quiet inhale. She is sniffing me.

  Weirdo.

  I smile, knowing that, although it’s small, it’s a W. There’s hope there, and when I walk away, I feel renewed. As I drive home with a shit-eating grin on my face, I breathe with new life…and realize that I really did land in Spike’s shit.

  So that’s what she was sniffing. Goddammit…

  Chapter Thirteen – And, Apparently, the Shits…

  Kyle – Past

  December 2008

  CHRISTMAS IS MY favorite time of year, but only because it’s hers. Savi loves Christmas, and the joy it brings her is always something to behold. She always went all out with the decorations at her house, so much so, that one Christmas, Mom got her to decorate ours. It was the most spectacular Christmas we’d ever had. My Dad and I even shared laughs that year, despite us being at odds the months prior.

  I would always look forward to going to her house to exchange gifts and to her coming back to mine to open them. We would then go to Cape Aventura and end the night with Pop Tarts and purple soda and a bonfire.

  Those were the days. They were uncomplicated. They were happy days. They were simpler times.

  As I sit on the hood of my car, overlooking the horizon of the Cape and sipping purple soda, the moment feels empty somehow. Things have changed so much since the last time I was here. I want to say that it’s because I’ve grown, but I know within my heart that it’s because the one person who made coming to the Cape worthwhile isn’t sitting here with me. Not even Pop Tarts and purple soda is enough to ground me right now. Without her sharing this with me, it feels wrong.

  I miss her.

  The bonfire is in full swing. New teens have carried on the tradition and I look on with a reminiscing smile on my face. I can see Cotton doing drunken cartwheels, Joey grabbing girls and throwing them into the
cold beach waves, Grayson smoking while two girls drape themselves all over him, Savi moving her hips secretly to the pop song playing while sipping spiked fruit punch…I see it all like it was yesterday.

  “Reliving your childhood?”

  I turn to the voice next to me, smiling in earnest when I see a beautiful, healthy-looking Becky. She’s the ex-girlfriend who became a friend.

  “Becky Becks!” I exclaim, throwing an arm around her for a hug.

  She giggles and squeezes me before letting me go and giving me a proper once-over.

  “You look good, Moxam,” she praises with a wide smile on her face.

  “You look better,” I tell her honestly. “So much better.” And I mean it.

  “I feel better,” she adds, leaning against my car.

  Becky stares at the group of teens having the same fun we used to have, and she smiles. I know she’s probably thinking the same thing that I am.

  “Seems like yesterday, huh?” she muses.

  “Yeah,” I agree, stuck in the past.

  Still stuck on my best friend…

  “So, how are things going with Savi?” she asks after a few stretched seconds of silence between us.

  “Oh, they’re great. We had a great time catching up the other day,” I lie like a loser.

  “Let me rephrase that,” Becky says, turning to give me her full attention, a smirk on her lips. “Savi and I are practically besties, we talk every day. So, tell me, how are things not going with your best friend?”

  It’s like an anvil crushing down on my dreams, a nightmare come true. My best friend and my ex-girlfriend are…friends. Somewhere in my mind, an apocalypse is happening, and I can do nothing to stop it. The stories they could tell, or have told each other…

  I just hope I was on point every time Becky and I had sex…

  “Why didn’t you tell her that we were broken up?” The million-dollar question.

  I sigh, out of lies and, frankly, out of steam.

  “Becky…” I hedge, knowing what I want to say, but not how to put it into words.

  Scrubbing a hand down my face, I start again, “You ever wonder what it would be like to be with someone, but scared to take that chance? You and this person have been friends forever, or you guys just hit it off somewhere along the way, and you start having these…feelings.”

  I look up at Becky then and she has a faraway look on her face, like she knows exactly what I’m talking about. So, I continue.

  “These feelings confuse you and you start to question everything.” I don’t add that you start having this “When that dude met that girl in that movie” vibe, because guys shouldn’t know about that movie…you know, being manly and all.

  “So, finally,” I go on, seeing the memory flash before my eyes, as if my retelling it is giving it life all over again. “You get the chance; nothing is standing in your way. You know that this friend is probably feeling the same feelings, but you also wonder if, maybe, you’re imagining it. All these doubts start to assault you all at once and you begin to second-guess everything. So, you get cold feet, and chance after chance passes you by because of this one thing…”

  Before I can finish my thought, Becky does it for me, “You don’t want to ruin a great friendship.”

  We go silent then, lost in recollecting each of our own missed opportunities. It hurts worse than a dick in the butt…not that I would know what a dick in the butt feels like.

  “Do you think you’re ready to change things?” she softly asks, cutting into my anal thoughts, and I wonder if she is directing the question at me or herself.

  I need to get a grip.

  “I don’t know.” And I really don’t. One moment, I can’t see myself without my best friend, and the other, I’m so crippled by fear of messing things up and losing her that I don’t bother trying. It is a cycle, a rollercoaster ride that I am hoping will stop soon. That I will stop soon.

  “What if she feels the same way about you?” Becky submits, and I resent the optimism I hear in her voice because it gives me a little…hope, and that’s not what I need to be having right now.

  I give a mirthless, half-suppressed laugh. “If she does…” I know she does, that’s part of the problem. “I can’t do anything about it right now, especially with her having a boyfriend and all.”

  Admitting it makes my jaw clench. Fucking Cam swooping in like a knight in shining armor with soft hands and taking my girl from me…

  “Boyfriend?” Becky repeats, confused. “Oh, boyfriend!”

  “Yeah, Cam,” I say with disdain. “And what kind of name is Camelot by the way? They named him after a fictional place! That can’t be normal.”

  “Yeah. Fictional,” Becky echoes, smiling like the cat that got the canary.

  “Hey, I know what you’re thinking,” I argue. “I’m not jealous. I’m…I’m…”

  “Jealous?”

  “Oh, fuck off, Becks.” So what if she’s right? I’d rather be in the next room listening to Crazy Hair and Cam go at it before I admit to Becky that I’m jealous. But I am. Insanely so.

  We talk a little more, pointing out the look-alikes from our former circle of friends among this new set of teenagers. I pass her my can of purple soda, but after a few sips, she gives up on the sweet drink.

  “I don’t know how you and Sav eat and drink that crap,” she mutters, turning up her nose. “Talk about walking diabetes.”

  I chuckle at her comment, but my brain latches on to the fact that Savi still acknowledges our tradition. It means that these past few months she has been thinking of me, of us. Hope glimmers in the distance, reawakening from mere moments ago, and I am almost blinded by the prospect of a future with her.

  Music rises from the bonfire with an oldie but goodie rock tune, the singer asking if everything could ever feel this real forever, and all the kids seem to pair off. Such a poignant song and a poignant time in all of our lives. Standing next to my ex-girlfriend, consumed with thoughts of my best friend, and watching these kids who were once us. Life used to be this simple, but then we grow up and we start to feel and give into those feelings; and before long, the life we imagined – perfect and exciting – isn’t.

  I notice that the fire isn’t as bright and raging as it was in the beginning and something dawns on me then. Like the bonfire, anything that starts out blazing bright, eventually dies down. They are only meant to burn for a period of time before having to start a new fire or adding kindling to keep it going.

  What Savi and I have, is not a raging bonfire, but a slow burn that refuses to be extinguished.

  “I gotta go,” Becky announces, moving away from the car.

  She and I hug for long seconds, soaking up the memory of each other, before we let go. My eyes pass over her supple skin and growing hair, giving her another once over. It is almost unbelievable how much she has come around. I remember how sick she had been in the beginning and my heart pangs because there was a time when none of us knew if she would have overcome this disease.

  “Becky, I am so proud of how strong you are,” I tell her and kiss her cheek. “You’re a fighter.”

  “Thanks, Kyle. I’ll always remember how you helped me through this, even after I ended things. You really are a great friend.”

  She walks back to her car, leaving me still staring out at the bonfire. An era is coming to an end for me, right here and now. I am officially closing my high school chapter tonight.

  “Hey,” Becky calls out to me and I turn around. “You know the saying: If you love something let it go? I hate that saying.”

  She starts her jet blue Jetta and before jumping in and driving away, she continues, “I say, if you love something, fight like hell for it, because you don’t want that love to let you go.”

  Her words settle over me like a warm sense of assurance. I hear you loud and clear, Becky.

  Loud and clear.

  I swipe up the white envelope containing the wedding invitation – that’s been sitting on my bedside t
able for the past few days – and the big box containing a bottle of premium, aged liquor, and the gift-wrapped set of four crystal decanters I had bought for the happy couple. I check myself in the mirror for the fourth time in twenty minutes, more nervous than an alcoholic priest during communion.

  Today is Savannah’s aunt Regina’s wedding. She finally said yes to her boyfriend of ten years. I don’t know her very well, so imagine my surprise when I saw her at my door a week ago with an envelope in her hand that was addressed to “Jailbait”, which is apparently my name.

  “I’m only inviting you because I know it’ll piss off my niece,” she had said, shoving the invitation into my chest. “You make her squirm and not many people can. She’s tough, like me and her mom, but I see something different in her when you’re around. You make her vulnerable.”

  She walked away from me after that, not waiting for a confirmation, and her bad ass aura made me smile. Her arms were tattooed, hair cut short with the sides shaved, wearing ripped to hell jeans, a baby tee and biker boots. And I made the decision right then that I would go.

  Only because I thought she would cut me in my sleep if I didn’t.

  Sitting at the back of the wedding ceremony now, I can’t help but take in my surroundings. It is an outdoor affair, fully decorated with whites, purples and silvers. The whole location looks almost magical. I have to give it to the wedding planner or decorator, though, it is beautifully put together.

  The area where the ceremony is being held is two-fold. While the audience is on one side of the garden, the bride, groom, bridal party (which includes Savi’s parents), marriage officer (because the couple isn’t religious), photographer and videographer are on the other side, on an island gazebo separated by a lake, with steps leading up to it from the water. Two gondolas are idling on either side of the gazebo, waiting to take the party back on land.

  The groom is staring at Savi’s aunt as if she is the only woman in his world. I can only imagine the type of hold she has on him. She is a sassy and straightforward woman, just like her niece.