PART V
Back to Now
TWENTY-THREE
At least revenge had seemed very sweet back then. But now that I was standing there in James’s driveway, I could suddenly see something very clearly. Contrary to my now sixteen-year-old belief, he was not—and had never actually been—a movie character. He was a real man with real feelings.
And I had now broken his heart not once but twice.
“Is this true?” he asked me.
Both he and Veronica were staring at me with twin sucked-lemon expressions on their faces.
I wished I was back in Mississippi. I wished I was still traumatized and known as the girl that didn’t talk. Also, I wished I was still the kid that took time to think up perfect replies, and then never, ever said them out loud.
But I wasn’t that person anymore. So the first thing out of my mouth was “Of course it’s true.”
Then I said, “And I’m not sorry I did it. I truly believe in my heart that you guys deserved it.”
That didn’t come out right. I should have said “truly believed in my heart” that they deserved it. I could have explained that this was before I got my college learning and realized that what I had done was neither healthy nor rational.
When I looked back on this conversation later, I wished that I had explained, that even though I was thirty-one years old now, my love life had been severely stunted due to being a social pariah in high school and a fake over-twenty-one-year-old for most of my teenage years. Therefore, I only had the experience of maybe a twenty-two-year-old when it came to matters of the heart. So I had been little more than a child when I had done those things to the Farrells, a child stuck on something that had happened in high school. Maybe he would’ve understood and forgiven me if I had explained it that way.
Instead, I stood there in his driveway, with hot tears welling in my eyes, and said the least helpful thing that could possibly be said after your boyfriend finds out that you manipulated not only his heartbreak, but also that of his two sisters.
I said, “Fuck you, Veronica. You’re a fucking bitch. I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”
Veronica’s expression went from repulsed to incredulous. “I’m a fucking bitch? Well, you’re a fucking psycho.”
What could I say to that? It was the perfect comeback.
Because while what I had said about her being a bitch was true, what she had just said about me being crazy was even truer. Especially at that moment.
James stared at me. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said.
Of course, I had thought about the possibility of James finding out what I had done before this point. I had imagined him getting angry and dumping me, so that it would hurt less when our breakup happened. But somehow him saying that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, and then just standing there, looking like a kicked dog, was much worse than anything I had ever imagined.
Damn it. . . . A wave of humiliation, larger even than the one outside of Farrell Manor fifteen years ago, washed over me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I told you from the start that us getting together was not a good idea. Now you understand why I—”
Veronica interrupted. “Come inside.” She put her arm around James’s shoulders. “You’re not supposed to engage psychos. They can turn violent.”
Anger rose inside me, and I realized she was right, because as she walked away with James, I wanted to tear her to pieces for exposing me. I could see myself jumping on her back and yanking out her perfect blond highlights. The rage was so powerful it immobilized me.
Obviously Veronica thought she could just leave me here in the driveway, that I was some bug that could easily be swatted with a private detective and a late-night confrontation.