Not If I See You First

“The it’s-me-not-you speech.”


“It’s us, Jason, and it’s not a speech. I like you but when we talk it feels more like stumbling than dancing. And the more honest I am the worse it gets. Before you I’ve kissed one guy and that was years ago and not for very long, so I was a little starved and moved too fast and now I got my head straight and want to pull back. So yeah, that’s mostly me not you but yesterday was all you and I’m not a cliché, I’m a person, a person who’s not happy you thought the best thing to do when I fell apart was to hang back and wait for me to get normal again—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! Can’t you forgive me?”

“I do. But I want a guy whose first impulse is to be with me when I need help, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I have friends who I wouldn’t go running over to if I heard them break down crying because I know I would just get in the way of their closer friends, like you said. That’s okay—everybody can’t be closest friends with everybody else. I think we can be very good casual friends.”

“Now it’s the let’s-just-be-friends speech.”

I snort a bit, the nice kind, or at least I hope it sounds that way. Somehow I’m not really upset by any of this.

“You know why I like you? You’re nice, and charming, and from the moment we met you’ve treated me like a normal person who just needed a bit more information than other people. That’s extremely rare and exactly right, so you made a great impression. I think we could be great friends. For dating, though, I’m looking for something else.”

“This is about Scott.”

“Um… no. We’ve barely talked in years, and when I asked him if we could just be friends, he said no. If you say yes, you’ll be miles ahead of him.”

Silence.

“As far as boyfriend material goes,” I say, “yeah, he was a tough act to follow. Unfortunately for you. Even more unfortunate for me.”

More silence. I listen for breathing or shuffling to make sure Jason hasn’t walked away.

“It’s funny,” he says in a bitter voice. “When I talked to Scott about you, I think we liked you for opposite reasons.”

I want to ask, I really want to ask, but I’d rather he just tell me so I try waiting him out.

“He says the problems other people have, like being petty or liars or snobs or whatever, they could fix them if they wanted to, but they just don’t do the work or they blame everyone else. And even though your problems can’t be fixed at all, you’re the one who needs taking care of the least.”

“And you think… what, the opposite?”

“No, just… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. You’re smiling so I can tell he’s right and I’m wrong.”

“But I really do want to be friends. All those good things I said about you, I mean it. I wish more people in the world were like you. I’d have more friends if there were. Can we?”

“I guess.”

“Hmmm… That’s fine for being in the outermost circle of friends. If you want to be better friends, what’s the more honest answer?”

Silence.

“Come on, it’s okay to tell me how you really feel. Just try it once. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“No,” he finally says. “I don’t think we can be friends. I’m starting to think you’re… demanding, exhausting, and… high-maintenance. There, happy now?”

I laugh. “Yeah, I am. Because it’s all true. I think we’re already better friends now than we were a minute ago. Don’t you?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t you at least feel better getting that off your chest?”

“No, it makes me feel like a dick. Look, I… I’m going to go walk the track. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Okay. But you’re not a dick, Jason. You’re a good guy and a quick study. It gives me hope. Thanks for that.”





Sarah and Faith decide they need to keep an eye on me despite my amazing performance of normalcy today, so they come to study with us in the library after school. I don’t think they understood that Molly and I need to talk the whole time, and our talking makes it hard for them to get anything done, so they talk too and nobody gets anything done. By the time Stockley comes after football practice we’ve done nothing but we’re having too much fun to stop.

“Hey, P.G., Molly, sorry I’m late,” Stockley says. “Coach loves to hear himself talk.”

“Hey,” I say, “everybody, this is Stockley—Kent Stockley. That’s Sarah and Faith.”

Greetings are exchanged as Stockley sits down hard on the other side of Molly. I’m hoping to use this interruption to bear down on some homework. It would be lousy to invite him here to work on trig and then not do any. I’m glad he dives right in.

“What was all that Sacagawea stuff? I didn’t get that at all.”

Molly laughs. I swat at her arm but my hand finds nothing but air and this makes the others laugh.

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