A Tragic Kind of Wonderful

“But the worst—” Her voice catches. It’s not grief I hear, or anger. More like disgust.

“He said the worst part was how much of the story he wrote himself. The errands she’d run nights and weekends—she didn’t say why she went by herself. He assumed she was being nice since he worked hard all week. So yeah, she lied, but he filled in the gaps. He’d invented the lie he was living just as much as she did.”

Zumi takes the bottle from Connor. She drinks and sets it between her crossed legs. Then she hits her forehead with the heel of her hand. Twice. Three times.

I push her hand away. “Do you know why your uncle filled in the gaps?”

“He’s a sucker.”

“He just assumed the best. Because he loved her.”

Zumi takes another drink. This time she coughs.

“He’s still a sucker.”

“He wasn’t,” I say. “And neither are you.”

“I feel like one. What’s the difference?”

“You can stop feeling something if you’re not. You can’t stop if you really are.”

“Uh … easy for you to say.”

“I mean it. Who you are has nothing to do with who Annie was.”

Zumi snorts. “She said it, all the time. I was her muscle. Connor was her minion. She didn’t care about us. We were just the only ones willing to follow her around.”

I want to soften this, but it’s true. Zumi can only feel better once she talks it out and gets past it.

“Connor and I weren’t with Annie,” I say. “We were with you.”

I reach for her hand but she pulls away.

“Don’t,” she whispers.

“Sorry—”

“I didn’t get it till she packed her shit and jumped on a plane without saying good-bye. You didn’t need to get hit with a sledgehammer to figure her out.”

I reach for her again and she shrinks back.

“You just assumed the best with her,” I say. “Because you loved her.”

She looks down. “I loved all you guys.”

“And we love you. Stop beating yourself up. I was the one breaking the rules when I asked you to take my side.”

“Annie asked me, too, the day before you did.”

“But you were in love with her. You can’t ask a friend to choose you over someone they’re in love with, even if you think that person’s no good for them. That’s the rule I broke. The heart wants what it wants.”

If it surprises her I knew, or that I’m talking about it now, she doesn’t show it.

Zumi shrugs. “She didn’t love me.”

“Did she say that?”

“Sneaking off to Paris said it. She told me she loved me, but like the sister she wished she had instead of Lulu. She talked about guys all the time …”

I catch Connor’s eye. He presses his lips together and looks down.

Zumi sighs. “I just thought eventually … if she realized … that she might give us a chance …” She takes another drink. “God, it sounds so pathetic out loud! As if I could be so right for her that it would …” She laughs bitterly.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say. “I saw how she was. She was leading you on, giving you little hints it might be possible.”

“Why would she do that?”

“To keep her thumb on you. You know. If you kept thinking there might be a chance …”

Zumi slaps her hands over her eyes.

“God …”

She bends over, covering her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me? No! Never mind. I wouldn’t have listened. I didn’t listen. God!”

“No, Zumi—”

“Yes, Zumi!” She sits back up. “I chased a straight girl for years, let her manipulate me, let her be mean to Connor! And I … I believed what she said about you!”

I get up … whoa… I’m really dizzy … and clumsily sit behind her to make a train. She tenses up, but when I hug her, she relaxes.

I wave Connor to sit closer. He slides over but not enough. I reach out and yank on his collar. He topples and spins and ends up with his head faceup on Zumi’s lap. I’m sure he’s going to leap away, but Zumi puts a hand on his forehead and he stays put.

“We want more than anything for some nice girl to fall in love with you,” I say. “Until then, you’ll just have to live with us loving you regular. Right, Connor?”

“Right,” he says.

“Whoa!” I say. “He talks!”

“Only when I have to.”

It’s too dark to see clearly but I think Zumi’s stroking Connor’s hair.

She raises her head and turns. “How’d you know?”

I think about it. “It wasn’t any one thing. It was just … obvious.”

She looks down. “Was it obvious to you, too?”

“Yes,” Connor says. “I knew in the seventh grade.”

“Bullshit, Connor. Even I didn’t know it then.”

“You probably would have if you’d thought about it.”

I say, “How come you never told Connor? I didn’t think you had secrets from each other.”

“It’s not a secret,” Zumi says. “I just didn’t say it. I love broccoli on my nachos but I’ve probably never said that, either, or all kinds of other stuff you don’t bother announcing to the world.”

Connor says, “You don’t have to say anything at all.”

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