“Where do you live?”
“Framingham.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Yes.” But apparently no interest in telling me about them.…
I take the hint and leave her alone. I’d be pissed too, stuck at a camp where my only choice was to sit there. When Robin stops over to check in, I quietly suggest Kathleen stay at a different station twice since she can’t really participate in art. Suddenly Kathleen is at my side, tugging my sleeve. How does she know where my arm is? “Excuse me, Miss Eve,” she interrupts, “but this is my favorite activity.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “But you aren’t able to do the project.”
“I’m doing it with my imagination,” she says. “I love art.”
I’m such a freaking idiot. This whole time I’ve been interrupting her with pointless questions.
As the group files out of my station, I approach Kathleen. “I’m sorry about the confusion. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to give you some peace and quiet while you think.”
Her face lifts. “It’s hard to know what to do with me sometimes. Thanks for apologizing. No one ever does that.”
I smile. My mom would have. She was big into accountability. Who makes mistakes? she’d ask out of nowhere when I was a kid. Everyone! I’d shout, as she trained me to. And what do you do when you realize you’ve made a mistake? she’d ask, her voice getting louder. Acknowledge! Apologize! Address! I’d cheer.
I get home and take a nap without stopping for lunch. I’m too exhausted to even sneak some of my mom’s journal. I’ll deserve a trip to Paris by the time these two weeks are up.
I awake to a ringing phone and slobber on my pillow. Still groggy, I take a second to process that it’s John’s number. His thirty days in rehab are over. I’d be a giant ass to ignore this call.
“Hey,” he says, pretending all is normal.
“Hey back,” I play along.
Silence. There’s no way to move the conversation forward without giving up the act. “We need to talk,” he says. “Can you pick me up?”
“Sure.” Better to get the breakup over with before he hooks up with someone and causes drama. I head to his house in sweats and no makeup, knowing this isn’t a date that ends with a selfie.
When John gets in the car I notice he’s lost weight and, for summer, is way pale. He’s still completely hot, but it’s like looking at a magazine photo; he doesn’t feel like mine anymore.
“Was it horrible?” I ask.
“Nah … it wasn’t that bad. It was crazy to hear how messed up some people get. The circle would come to me and I was like the loser. Compared to those crack heads I haven’t done shit.”
“Sounds depressing.”
He flings his chin my way. “Probably wasn’t as bad as things have been for you. You holding up?”
I think of the night I just spent crying so hard I hyperventilated. “Yeah, I’m good.” I wish we weren’t in a car. It forces us to be so close.
“Jake and Noel said they haven’t seen you around.”
“Yeah, well, my dad’s needed me, and I have the community-service thing.”
He puts a leg up on my dashboard. “I hope you can forgive me for the accident, Eve. I know it’s the last thing you needed.”
The apology reminds me that he’s a good guy. I hadn’t been thinking he was a bad guy; I’d just stopped thinking about him altogether.
“Oh my God, John. I’m the whole reason we dragged ourselves to your car. It’s my fault. I know your father blames me, like we were on some kind of death wish or something.”
“My father blames a lot of people for a lot of things. I think it goes with being a judge.”
“Well, I’m wicked sorry you got in so much trouble. Thank God no one got hurt.”
“Yeah.”
I know he has more to say because he flips his thumbs in circles without letting them touch, the way he did the first time he said he loved me. It’s crazy to compare how much I cared then with how little I care now.
“Here’s the thing though, I know my dad said we couldn’t talk, but I was surprised you didn’t send a letter or anything.”
I look down at my lap. “I’m sorry. I suck. There’s been a lot going on. Just constant shit.”
“Stop apologizing. It’s fine anyway; I’m only wondering if we are, you know, fine.” His eyes are on me now, looking for clues.
“Is that what you want?” My voice can’t hide my surprise.
“Of course that’s what I want. I love you. I don’t see why a car accident should change anything.” He places a hand on my knee. I look at it. He loves me. Huh. I feel like I barely know him.
“Honestly though,” I stall, “things were different before the accident.”
“I know.” He squeezes my knee to show that doesn’t matter.
“I’m a totally different person now.” Tears slide down my cheeks. “I think about everything more, you know? I question if I’m spending my time in, like, a meaningful way. No one really gets me right now.”
“Do you think I get you?”
“Pfft. I don’t know. I think you want to. I think you’re the only one in our group who cares anymore.”
“That’s not fair. Everyone cares.”
“No they—”
He puts a hand up. “In April, we didn’t know how to respond. I admit that. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. A lot of time. I never should’ve dragged you to Lindsey’s. Kara told me to skip it and she was right. That was shitty.”
“Kara told you to skip it because she suddenly hates me. It’s like my mom’s death ruined her life.”
“Forget Kara. She’s been a freak to everyone, not just you. But the rest of us care. We just don’t know how to show it.”
I understand why John would fight to keep me. We’re finally seniors. The bridge by the railroad track reads Class of 2016 for the next twelve months. He doesn’t know how to separate me from his excitement. We lost our virginity together. We’ve been going out almost two years, the longest of any couple in our grade. People joke that we’re the school mascot. I have to tell him I’m leaving. Telling him will end it for good.
“I’m going to Exeter in September,” I whisper. “As a boarder.”
He pulls his hand away, a relief. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“I mean why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known?”
“I dunno. Since May, I guess.”
“So you knew before the accident, before I left?” I nod. He glares at me. “What the hell, Eve?”
The passion in his voice stuns me. How can two people view the same relationship so differently? “I-I guess I assumed no one would give a shit by the time I left anyway and-and I didn’t want to get into a whole big conversation.”
He throws both hands in the air. “What else can I possibly do to prove I love you?”
I turn the radio on instead of answering. Solid-gold oldies fill the car, making me think of my mom. If she were here she’d say, Listen to this music. No wonder everyone was happy in the fifties.
“How far away is Exeter?” he asks.
“A little over an hour.”
“That’s not too bad. You’ll be back for weekends?”