“Fine,” he says. “Fine. It’s fine. Whatever.”
I watch Tony’s chest rise and fall—under a binder, of course—and suddenly this all feels so familiar.
It feels like it did that day back in August. When I took Tony to the swing set near my house and told the truth about going to NYU.
Tony sat down, breathing just as hard as he is now, saying, “Fine, fine, it’s fine.” The same way he just said it.
Tony was lying then. And he’s lying now.
“You don’t think it’s fine,” I say. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Oh, because you’ve never lied to me.” Tony’s breaths are coming faster now.
“You’re mad at me,” I say. “Just say it.”
Tony shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever this thing was, I’ll pretend it never happened. The past is the past and it can stay there.”
I was ready to agree to that plan a few minutes ago. Now I’m not so sure.
“What’s the point of pretending?” I ask.
Tony glares at me. “The alternative is for me to keep being pissed about this. Is that what you want?”
“I’m not allowed to have an opinion about what you do,” I say. “How come it doesn’t work the other way around?”
Tony jumps up again. I stay where I am.
“What do you mean, ‘what I do’?” Tony asks. “Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about? I’m going through something huge and life-changing, not experimenting like a little kid.”
“Oh, so I’m acting like a little kid? I’m not the one flying all over the East Coast, coming out to people when I’m not even sure I mean what I’m saying!”
Tony stares at me. I stare right back.
“I’m not—” Tony swallows. “Look, I know you can’t understand what I’m dealing with, but this is the person I am.”
“I want to understand,” I say. “But you hardly even talk to me about it. You only want to talk to your other friends.”
Tony drops his head. I can’t tell if he’s angry at me or if he’s about to cry.
“My other friends understand already.” His voice is quieter. “That’s why I want to talk to them about this stuff. They just get it, and...”
And I don’t.
“I know,” I murmur. I try to slow down. To think about every word before I say it. “I’ve been trying to understand, when you let me. The thing is, I’m a person, too. I have friends and a life apart from you. That’s why I came to this school. To start making decisions for myself. That means sometimes I’m going to do stuff you’re not going to like.”
Our eyes are locked. We’ve never talked like this before. It’s kind of scary.
But I have to keep going.
“I used to think I’d done something wrong,” I say. “It turns out all I was doing was being me. Sorry, but that’s how it is. Who I am.”
Tony sits back down. “You’re not really sorry.”
“I’m not sorry I’m not your perfect girlfriend who always says the right thing and who you can show off to your friends, if that’s what you mean.”
“You are my perfect girlfriend.” Tony’s voice is soft. “You were anyway.”
“Maybe in your head,” I say. “Being perfect in real life is way too hard.”
Tony stares down at his feet. “I thought you could help me.”
“You thought I was going to make everything better?” I shake my head. “I can’t make everything better for me. I don’t have the first clue how to do it for you. The thing is, though, you don’t need me to. You can do this on your own. You have to. No one can figure this out but you.”
There’s something glistening in Tony’s eyes. I can’t tell if it’s tears or anger. Maybe both.
“I’m not going to apologize for what happened with Carroll, either,” I say. “It was stupid, yeah, but I didn’t do anything wrong. We said we were going to see other people.”
Tony looks at the floor. All I can see now is the back of his head.
“I just can’t believe it,” he says. “I get what you’re saying about it not being officially against the rules or anything, but it just feels like this huge gut punch. It’s not even that he’s a guy. It never crossed my mind that you actually would’ve—I thought you’d—”
Tony trails off. That’s when I figure it out.
Tony said that stuff about how we should go out with other people, but it never crossed Tony’s mind that I might actually do it.
He thought I’d just sit around, waiting, while he figured everything out for the both of us. Like Penelope in the stupid Odyssey, weaving her damn tapestry and waiting for her hero to save the day.
Maybe that’s sort of what I was doing. With the freaking out and getting drunk and making a fool of myself. I was keeping myself busy while I...waited.
Tony even said that, back at Thanksgiving. That he didn’t want me to be stuck waiting around. I should’ve listened.
I don’t want to be Penelope.
I thought we knew everything about each other. Maybe that was true once, but something’s changed. I’ve changed, and so has Toni. Tony.