I spend the whole weekend with Asha. Selfishly, it’s a relief to have the time away from Matt, but our weekend apart seems to do him some good too. Monday is uneventful, and that night I hand out candy at Asha’s dorm, while the Richardsons turn off their lights to avoid trick-or-treaters. On Tuesday, he follows me around silently while I try to work, which is annoying, but bearable.
But Wednesday he gets weirdly pissy that I have plans with Asha and can’t stay for dinner. And Thursday morning he’s immediately mad at me for running late, which gives someone else time to steal his parking spot. He doesn’t say anything as we hike up from the gravel lot, even when Eddie says hello at the lobby door, squeezing my shoulder in greeting. The pipe he saved is hidden in my jewelry box, but I don’t use it. It’s just a talisman, a memento. A tiny piece of Andrew that stays with me.
A wolf whistle meets me at the stairs. “Sanders!” someone calls down. “Eddie the Janitor your new boyfriend?” I don’t know the voice, but there’s no mistaking Carson’s booming laugh in response.
I ignore them. Matt ignores me. And we both ignore the fact that no matter what everyone else expects, things will never be normal again.
*
Matt stops giving me the silent treatment by the end of school, but within a few minutes I’m wishing he’d shut up. “Are you going out tomorrow?” he asks, not glancing away from the road.
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“What are you going to do then?” he asks. “Hang around my house?”
“If you don’t want me to, then no.”
“What if I do?”
“Then I will, Matt, god!” I have no idea what he wants from me. Not that I ever did—a fact that’s getting harder to ignore as he takes his grief out on me more and more. Is he still holding out hope that we’re going to be more than friends? Are we really even friends at this point?
I consider just taking the afternoon off, but I need the money, as usual. I spent my last paycheck on some clothes to replace the ones I threw away after Eagle Point. I also went on an impulsive card-buying spree—I’m going to send one to everyone I love. I even found a Thanksgiving one for The Nuge with a farmer holding a turkey by the neck. It plays “Stranglehold” when you open it.
By the time we reach the house, I need some air and a few minutes alone. But Matt follows me out onto the deck, into the gray and chilly afternoon. I tuck my hands inside the sleeves of my hoodie and rest my arms on the rail, looking out at the backyard. At the garden Mrs. R. abandons halfway through every summer. At the lawn the boys take turns mowing.
Took turns.
Just one boy now.
Andrew was a much bigger part of my life than I realized, even before we were together. His house is nothing but a minefield of memories. It’s impossible to be here and impossible to leave.
I shake my head, refusing the tears I don’t deserve. The sky gives me a few of its own, raindrops sprinkling on our heads. I pull my arms tighter and curl in against the damp. I’m not just sad, I’m mad. At Matt, for being jealous, for being possessive, and for continuing to be mad at me.
And at Andrew, for falling. For stepping backward instead of forward. For being stupid enough to kiss me in public.
For leaving me here by myself.
MATT
It starts to drizzle, but I ignore it, the same way I ignore Raychel’s shivering. I hate that I don’t care enough to hate that I don’t care.
There’s just not room when my guilt overwhelms everything. How many times did I warn them to stay back from the edge? How many times did I warn him to be careful? I tried and tried to be responsible, but it wasn’t enough.
I can’t say I’d give anything to have him back, because it’s a pointless exercise in thought, playing poker with invisible cards. But looking at Raychel now, it’s not hard to imagine her in his place. We’re not that high up, but high enough, and I fight the urge to pull her back. “How long?” I ask.
She turns slowly and squints through the rain. “What?”
“You and Andrew,” I say. “How long were you…”
“Not long.”
I exhale loudly, making a puff of steam.
“It started that weekend you and I fought about books,” she says, and pauses. “With a break, and then…”
I reach out, the first time I’ve purposely touched her since the Grove, and pull her back toward the center of the deck where it’s safer. “Does Keri know?”
“Yeah.” I expected to be mad when she said no, not furious at her yes. Other people knew, but not me. “They weren’t together. But she and I talked about it a day or two before he…”
“Died.” Everyone keeps pussyfooting around it, saying he “passed” or “walked on” or “went to be with Jeebus,” but Andrew fucking died. Because of me.
She starts pacing. “We were going to tell you. That’s what we were talking about, when you walked up.”
God. “At least he died happy,” I say, unsure which of us I’m trying to hurt more. Her face crumples and I want to pull her to my chest, but I don’t.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and she waits for me to reply, but I don’t do that either. I’m carrying enough blame. I can’t take hers too.
RAYCHEL
Matt watches the drizzle slowly stain the deck. I’m afraid that if I let the conversation end, it’ll be months until we have another.
“Matt,” I start, waiting for him to look up. “What happened…” I want to say It wasn’t your fault, but I can’t, even if I don’t blame him entirely. And if I know Matt, he’s blaming himself plenty already—which is why I’ve put up with his attitude this long. “You can’t keep living like this,” I say instead.
He glares at me. “How am I supposed to live then? Pretend like it never happened, like you’re doing?”
“I’m not pretending that. I’m just trying to get through each day.”
He snorts. “Yeah, well. You’ll find a replacement. I don’t get another brother.”
“A replacement?” I repeat. “For Christ’s sake, Matt.” That’s a low blow, even for his current state.
“You’ll be fine,” he says.
“Fine?” My voice rises. “I’m not fine. I miss Andrew. We spent a lot of time together.”
He snorts again.
Anger steams its way past my patience. “I’m sorry that was a shock to you, but the truth is that I liked your brother. A lot.” How this news can still surprise him, I’m not sure. But he looks devastated, which just pisses me off even more. “Would you rather hear I was just using him?” I demand. “Or that he was using me?”
Matt shrugs sadly. “I guess … that’s what I assumed.”
“That’s a hell of a thing to think about people you care about.”
“At least I cared!” he says back, louder. “At least I wasn’t sneaking around!”
I stop and take a breath before this can get nastier. “Listen. I can’t go back in time and erase anything. And you know what? I wouldn’t erase what happened with Andrew even if I could. So you’re either going to have to get over it, or…” I’m not sure how to finish the sentence. We can’t not be friends.
Matt looks like he’s going to cry. “How am I supposed to get over it? You slept with my brother, Raychel!” He waits, and after a moment, I realize he wants me to deny it. But I don’t. “I can’t believe you slept with him,” he repeats, almost to himself.