“But I told you!”
“Well, I guess I didn’t really believe it until… you know… The Tent.” His voice had turned serious again, and there was a moment of silence in remembrance of our fallen soldier Private Hymen before Trip swiped a hand through his hair and said something that completely knocked me out. “That night, the way you looked at me. God, Lay, nobody’s ever…”
He stopped himself mid-sentence and just shook his head, sinking lower to rest it on the back of the futon, staring at the ceiling.
“Do you have any idea what my life is like these days?” He let out a breath that was half-laughter, half-growl. “I go to parties and every woman there is stuffing phone numbers in my hand. I can’t walk through a hotel lobby without room keys being shoved into my pockets.”
“Poor baby.”
“Lay, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that these women… they think they want me. But they don’t. They want him. The Movie Star. Even back in school it was like that. The Mysterious New Kid, you know?”
Of course I knew. His appeal was all-consuming. I thought about how I was just one of many who were drawn like a moth to the flame, as I sketched a dragon on the back of his hand.
He continued, “Don’t get me wrong. I took advantage of that, no question. They wanted to use me? I used them right back. They’d say or do almost anything to get my attention, and I let them. I allowed it to happen, thinking that that’s all I was ever worthy of. Those girls, and then later, those women… I guess—and I’m sorry for ever thinking this—but for a short time back then, I just figured you were one of them.”
He rolled his head toward me and added tenderly, “But as it turns out, you were the only girl who ever wanted me. I want to thank you for that.”
This was turning dangerous again, and I focused my attentions on the swirling flames I was shading with abandon, trying to ignore my racing heart. What were we doing? The whole confession thing seemed like a necessity years ago, but at this point, what could we hope to accomplish? After a decade, maybe some things were better left unsaid.
Wish I knew what those things were.
My voice didn’t even sound like my own as I returned cautiously, “I really did love you, you know. I just think it’s important that you know that. That you were—are—worthy of it.” I stopped coloring and made myself look him in the eye to add, “Thank you for that.”
The proud smile he gave me was enough to stop my heart, but then his lips curled into a sarcastic smirk. “So she says ten years later.”
That made me smile, too. The fact that he didn’t jump my bones at my admission gave me the confidence to continue the line of questioning. “So, is that why you stopped writing to me? Because you thought I didn’t say, you know… you thought I’d never be yours?”
“No, because… and what the hell are you talking about? You stopped writing to me.”
“Uhh, nice try, movie star. You went off and got some big life and had no more time for a mere peon like me.” I was laughing as I said it, but it still bothered me.
He turned sideways on the couch, facing me head-on. “Layla, shut up. You’re so full of it. I wrote you like the last three letters and you never bothered to write back. Who went off and got the big life here?”
Trip had stopped writing the year after he’d settled in L.A., around the time I’d moved into my apartment senior year.
“I never got any letters and I know I gave you this address. Even if I hadn’t, you know where my father lives. You could have sent them there.”
“I never knew you didn’t get the ones I did send. I just always figured you got yourself some jealous boyfriend who didn’t want you writing letters to the guy you used to fuck.”
A jolt went through me when he said that, and it took me an extra second to find my bearings. I considered pointing out the fact that we didn’t used to fuck. We merely only fucked. Singular. Once.
“So… what? We lost touch all these years because of postal error?”
“I guess so.”
Regret passed between us at that revelation, at yet how another pointless screw-up had managed to keep us apart. Jeez. There were more misunderstandings between us than in an episode of Three’s Company.
But the fact was, we had both gone on with our lives. We’d gotten used to living separately, and I guessed it had to be that way. I mean, how many people still kept in touch with their high school sweethearts a decade after graduation, for godsakes? The things that happened must’ve happened that way for a reason. Would Trip have had any motivation to go off to Hollywood if I was still hanging around Jersey? Would I have gone off to college and found my passion for writing if he had asked me to stay? What if I had followed him out there? Or if he’d stuck around closer to home to be with me?
We both had our own lives to lead. We were both living the lives that we had chosen.
It was time to get back to them.
Chapter 23