7.
the honeymoon
LAKE HASN’T MOVED a muscle in the last fifteen minutes. She’s been soaking in every word I’ve said. Recalling the day we met and our first date was actually fun. Recalling the things that tore us apart is grueling.
“I don’t like talking about this anymore,” I say. “It looks like it’s making you sad.”
Her eyes widen and she turns her body toward me. “Will, no. I love hearing your thoughts on everything that happened. I actually feel like it helps me understand a lot of your actions better. I don’t know why I felt like you sort of blamed me.”
I kiss her softly on the lips. “How could I blame you, Lake? All I wanted was you.”
She smiles and rests her head on my forearm. “I can’t believe my mom told you to leave me that note,” she says.
“God, Lake. That was so embarrassing. You have no idea.”
She laughs. “She really liked you, you know. At first, I mean. She loved you in the end. It was the in-between where her feelings about you sort of waned.”
I think about the day Julia found out, and how worried she must have been for Lake. To have everything going on in her life like she did, then have to watch your daughter deal with heartache? Unimaginable.
“Remember when she found out you were my teacher?” Lake says. “The look on your face when she was walking up the driveway toward you, it was awful. I was so afraid you would think I told her because I was mad at you.”
“I was so scared of her that day, Lake. She could be really intimidating when she wanted to be. Of course after we talked again later that night, I saw a more vulnerable side to her, but still. I was scared to death of her.”
Lake jerks up on the bed and looks at me. “What do you mean when y’all talked again?”
“Later that night when she came back to my house. Did I never tell you that?”
“No,” she says abruptly, almost like I’ve deceived her. “Why did she come back? What did she say?”
“Wait, let me start from the beginning. I want to tell you about the night before she found out,” I say. “I slammed a poem about you.”
She perks up. “No way! How come you never told me?”
I shrug. “I was hurt. It wasn’t a positive piece.”
“I want to hear about it, anyway,” she says.
this girl
I’M HOPING THIS situation is like dieting, where they say day three is when the cravings start to subside. I really hope that’s the case. The fact that she sits two feet from me in class makes my mind feel like a damn hurricane. It takes everything in me not to look at her during third period. In fact, I spend the entire time in my class trying not to look at her. I’ve been fairly successful, which is good considering Gavin still watches me like a hawk. At least it felt like he was today, anyway. I’ve never so looked forward to a weekend off in my life.
One. More. Day.
“I might be a little late tonight, Maya. I’m performing so I may stay until it’s over.”
She plops down on the sofa with a carton of ice cream. “Whatever,” she says.
I grab my keys and head out the front door. No matter how hard I try not to, I glance across the street during my short walk to the car. I could swear I see her living room curtain snap shut. I stop and stare for a minute, but it doesn’t move again.
I’M ONE OF the first to arrive, so I take one of the seats toward the front of the room. I’m hoping the energy from the crowd will distract me long enough to get out of this funk. I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, but I feel more heartbroken over this entire situation with Lake than I did when Vaughn dumped me. I’m sure a lot of that heartache was lost in the heartache from losing my parents, so maybe it just seems different for that reason. How could ending things with a girl who wasn’t even my girlfriend to begin with possibly cause this much distress?
“Hey, Mr. Cooper,” Gavin says. He and Eddie pull out their chairs and sit at the table with me. Unlike last week, I actually welcome their distraction tonight.
“For the last time, Gavin, call me Will. It’s weird hearing you say that when we’re not in class.”
“Hey, Will,” Eddie says sarcastically. “You doing one tonight?”
I had planned on performing, but seeing Gavin has me second-guessing my choice. I know most of the pieces I perform are metaphorical, but he’ll see right through this one. Not that it matters; he already knows how I feel.
“Yeah,” I say to Eddie. “I’m doing a new one.”
“Cool,” she says. “Did you write it for that girl?” She turns around and scans the room. “Where is she? I thought I saw you leaving with someone last week.” She returns her focus to me. “Was she your girlfriend?”
Gavin and I immediately look at each other. He makes a face that tells me he didn’t say anything to Eddie. I try to steady my expression when I respond.
“Just a friend.”
Eddie pushes her bottom lip out and pouts. “Friend, huh? That sucks. We really need to hook you up with someone.” She leans forward onto the table and puts her chin in her hands while studying me. “Gavin, who can we hook Will up with?”
He rolls his eyes. “Why do you always think you have to hook everyone up? Not everyone feels the need to be in a relationship every second of their lives.” He’s obviously trying to squelch the subject and I appreciate him for that.
“I don’t try to hook everyone up,” she says. “Just the people who clearly need it.” She looks back at me. “No offense, Will. It’s just—you know. You never date. It might do you some good.”
“Enough, Eddie,” Gavin snaps.
“What? Two people, Gavin! I’ve mentioned finding dates for two people this week. That’s not excessive. Besides, I think I may have figured out someone for Layken.”
When Eddie says her name, I immediately shift in my chair. So does Gavin.
“I think I’m gonna try to get Nick to ask her out,” she says, thinking aloud.
Before Gavin can respond, the sac is called to the stage. I’m relieved the subject is off the table now, but I can’t deny the twinge of jealousy that just made its way into my stomach.
What did I expect would be the outcome of all this? Of course she’s going to date other people. She’s got her entire senior year of school left; it would be crazy if she didn’t date. But still, it doesn’t mean I’ll be happy when she does.
“I’ll be back,” I say, excusing myself from the table. It’s been five minutes and I already need a breather from Eddie.
When I return from the bathroom, the sac has already finished performing. As soon as I sit back down, the emcee calls me to the stage to perform first.
“Break a leg,” Gavin says when I stand back up.
“That’s theater, Gavin,” Eddie says, hitting him on the arm.
I ascend the steps and take my place in front of the microphone. I’ve noticed in the past that if I concentrate and really put my emotions into writing, performing can actually be therapeutic. I really need to find some relief after all that’s happened this week.
“My piece is called This Girl.” I do my best to avoid Gavin’s glare, but it’s obvious by his expression that he knows the poem is about Lake as soon as the title passes my lips. I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath, then begin.
I dreamt about this girl last night.
Wow.
This girl.
In my dream I was standing on the edge of a cliff
Looking down over a vast, barren valley below
I wasn’t wearing any shoes and the rocks were crumbling beneath my toes.
It would have been so easy to take a step back,
To move away from the ledge,
Away from a certain inevitable life that had somehow been determined for me
a life that had somehow become my only option.
It had been my life for two years and I accepted that.
I had not embraced it,
But I had accepted it.
It was where I belonged.
As much as it didn’t appeal to me, as much as I yearned for the rivers and mountains and trees,
As much as I yearned to hear their songs . . .
To hear their . . . poetry?
It was apparent that what I yearned for
wasn’t decided by me . . .
it was decided for me.
So . . . I did the only thing I could do.
The only thing I should do.
I prepared myself to embrace this life.
I sucked it up and took a deep breath. I placed my hands on the edge of the cliff and began to lower myself onto the rocks protruding from the edge. I burrowed my fingers deep into the crevices and slowly began lowering myself down.
Down into the vast,
barren
valley
that had become
my
life.
But then . . .
Then this girl . . .
Holy hell, this girl . . .
She appeared out of nowhere, standing directly in front of me on the edge of that cliff. She looked down at me with her sad eyes that ran a million miles deep . . .
and she smiled at me.
This girl smiled at me.
A look that cut straight to my core and pierced through my heart like a million of Cupid’s arrows,
One right on top of the other, on top of the other, on top of the other
Straight . . .
Into . . .
My heart . . .
Now this is the part of the dream where most girls would bend down and grab my hands, telling me not to go . . . not to do it. This is the part of the dream where most girls would grab my wrists and brace themselves with their feet as they pulled me up with every ounce of strength in their being. This is the part of the dream where most girls would scream at the top of their lungs for help, doing anything and everything they could to save me . . .
To rescue me
from that
vast,
barren
valley
below.
But this girl.
This girl wasn’t most girls.
This girl . . .
This girl did something even better.
First, she sat down on the edge of the cliff and kicked off her shoes and we both watched as they fell and fell and fell and continued to fall until they landed in a heap. One shoe right on top of the other in that vast, barren valley below.
Then she slid a rubber band off her wrist,
Reached behind her . . .
And pulled her hair
into a knot.
And then this girl
This girl . . .
She placed her hands right next to mine on the edge of that cliff and she slowly began to lower herself off of it. She poked her bare feet into whatever crevice she could find next to mine. She dug the fingers of her right hand into the cracks between the rocks, then placed her left hand
directly . . .
on top . . .
of mine.
She looked down at the vast, barren valley below us, then she looked back up at me and she smiled.
She smiled.
She looked at me and smiled and said . . .
“Are you ready?”
And I was.
I finally was.
I had never been more ready in my life.
Yeah . . .
This girl.
My mother would have loved this girl.
Too bad she was just a dream.
I CLOSE MY eyes and tune out the noise of the crowd while I wait for my lungs to find their rhythm again. When I descend the stage and take a seat back at the table, Eddie stands up, wiping tears from her eyes. She looks down at me and frowns.
“Would it kill you to do something funny for once?” She storms toward the bathroom, I’m assuming to fix her makeup.
I look at Gavin and laugh, but he’s staring back at me with his arms folded in front of him on the table. “Will, I think I’ve got an idea.”
“Pertaining to . . .”
“You,” he says. He gestures toward the stage, “and your . . . situation.”
I lean forward. “What about my situation?”
“I know someone,” he says. “She works with my mom. She’s your age, cute, in college.”
I immediately shake my head. “No. No chance,” I say, leaning back into the booth.
“Will, you can’t be with Layken. If your poem had anything to do with her, which I’m thinking it had everything to do with her, then you need to find a way to get over this. If you don’t, you’ll end up screwing up your entire career over this girl. A girl you went on one date with. One!”
I continue to shake my head at his reasoning. “I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Gavin. I wasn’t even looking for anything when I met Lake. I’m fine with where I am right now; I definitely don’t need to add even more female drama into the picture.”
“You won’t be adding more drama. You’ll be filling an obvious void in your life. You need to date. Eddie was right.”
“What was I right about?” Eddie says, returning to her seat.
Gavin gestures toward me. “About Will. He needs to date. Don’t you think he and Taylor would hit it off?”
Eddie perks up. “I didn’t even think about her! Yes! Will, you’re gonna love her,” she says excitedly.
“I’m not letting you guys set me up.” I grab my jacket. “I’ve got to get back home. See you guys in class tomorrow.”
Eddie and Gavin both stand. “I’ll get her number tomorrow,” Eddie says. “Is next Saturday night okay? You two could double date with us.”
“I’m not going.” I walk away without turning back or giving in.