“Shut up,” I said. “Shut the fuck up, Ari. Me and Diana, that’s not the issue. You forgot Win. You went in and ripped him out like a cancer. But you weren’t going to die from the memory of him. He wasn’t a cancer. He . . . loved you. And you didn’t care.”
“I think I must’ve loved him a lot to do what I did.”
“That is such pathetic bullshit.”
She shrugged. “You’re right,” she said. “Old Ari was full of shit.”
My eyes closed, but the blackness didn’t mean she was gone. I could sense her there, breathing. I didn’t know what to say, so we sat in silence.
“Tell me why you broke Diana’s heart,” she said.
I opened my eyes. “What do you care?”
“She’s my friend.”
“You’re a shitty friend, which I think we’ve already established.”
“And you’re being more of an asshole than usual. Why’d you do it? Was it only so you could feel loved and special for five minutes? That’s inhumane.”
I sat up straighter on the couch, blanket bunched around my shoulders. “That’s who I am, Ari, in case your memory needs refreshing. I’m the one who messes around. I’m not serious. What did she expect?”
She kicked my shin. It hurt, but the pain was sharp and red and satisfying. She stumbled, as if kicking me knocked her off balance.
“I get that you’re mad at me,” she said. “Hell, I’m mad at me, too. But breaking Diana’s heart is a stupid way to get revenge.”
I froze for what felt like years, and then I burst out laughing. Nothing had been that genuinely funny in weeks.
And then I had the feeling, for a fleeting moment, that the Ari I used to be friends with was the same one as the one in front of me now, and any second now she would start laughing, too. And she’d sit down and we’d make fun of daytime TV together, and she’d tell my brothers to leave me alone, and I’d make her snort soda out her nose.
But she didn’t laugh. She wasn’t that girl.
“This isn’t only about you, you psycho,” I said, pretty nicely, all things considered. “Why don’t you tell me, though, just for fun—what is it that you want me to do? Because here are the options: I leave Diana alone, which is pretty much what I was doing before you showed up. Or I apologize, and I’m not sure I see the point in that. She would know I didn’t mean it and that you’d made me.”
Those were the best options she could’ve hoped for, but she still looked disappointed. “I want you to be different,” she said.
I snorted, though it was no longer amusing. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” I turned the TV back on.
“Markos . . .” she started, raising her voice to be heard over the infomercial, but oddly hesitant. “Why do you think I did it?”
Because you’re a bitch.
Because you never loved Win.
Because you were weak.
“You spared yourself,” I said.
She shook her head, but I knew I was right.
“If you really loved him, you would’ve wanted the memories and the pain. You excused yourself from being a human being.”
I didn’t look at her. My eyes followed the slice of a knife down the screen.
“What do you know about love?” she asked.
When I didn’t answer, she finally left me alone.
But something she’d said wormed its way into my head and I couldn’t get it out. It made the infomercial seem stupid; it made my plan to stay on the couch and never leave seem childish.
She wanted me to be different. Well, I wanted to be different, too. For real, like different down to the DNA. I wanted to be someone I’d never met before. I wanted to be someone who’d never met me.
I went upstairs, took a shower, and fell asleep in my own bed. The next morning I snuck out of the house before anyone else woke up and started walking to Diana’s.
—She’s going to slam the door in my face.
—Think positive.
—She’s going to throw a lamp at me and then slam the door in my face.
—Or maybe she’ll listen.
—Yeah, right. It’s like I told Ari: I’m not the apology guy. Diana knows that. She knows me.
—And that’s bad?
—Yeah. Because I ruined it all like I always knew I would from the night of the bonfire. There were only ever two options: stay away, or complete devastation. I went through door B.
—Why even go over there, then?
—Because I need to.
—Why?
—Because . . . maybe she’ll forgive me.
—But you said—
—If there’s even a chance she might forgive me, I have to try.
—And why would she?
—Because she knows me.
Echo started waiting for me after baseball. Actually, she watched our entire baseball practices, a black dot along the third base line, and then she’d loiter by my truck after practice. If I came out with Markos or some of the other guys, she’d fade away. But if I came out alone, she’d get in the passenger side door and we’d talk.