And then I went home, because I was done.
I didn’t see him this morning; he left for school without us. Simone was a couple minutes late getting to my house, so we were running behind when we knocked on the Chos’ door. In his typical fashion, he’d already gone stomping off without us instead of waiting five minutes. We don’t have any AM classes together and his mom was coming to get him before lunch so I didn’t have a chance to see him before he left.
I felt bad about how we left it last night, even though I technically didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been pinging him all day about stuff to take his mind off being nervous, trying to get him fired up, trying to ignite that spark in him. He hasn’t responded. Truth is, it’s starting to hurt my feelings.
I glance at the clock on my phone. Okay, his interview has to be over by now. I try him again, this time not sugar-coating anything.
I finally text what in the actual fuck, dude?
My phone chimes and I glance down to see Stephen’s message i’m so sorry. u were right, kent.
Okay, Cho, that’s more like it.
28
MALLORY
I need to get out of my own head.
I figured helping other kids with their probs will take my mind off mine. So, I signed up for an extra peer counseling shift because I could use some perspective.
With the whole Liam thing, I can’t figure out if I’m sad or worried or just plain pissed off because he’s already so tight with Simone.
I’m all, her? Really? And that’s not rumor, either; it’s fact. First, Elise saw them riding to school together the Monday after Homecoming a couple of weeks ago. I started hearing about LiMone (their couple portmanteau) a few days after that.
Please. LiMone sounds like a Walmart-brand soda.
I hear they’ve gotten very close, very fast, but I was so wrapped up in ending the field hockey season that I didn’t pay attention until after we took the state title. (Told you so.) Didn’t see for myself until I walked past them making out by his locker yesterday. Witnessed them with my own two eyes.
Tongue! School tongue!
Who does that?
When classmates asked about our breakup, and, of course, they did ask, I told them an abbreviated version of reality—that we’d grown apart, that senior year was too much of a grind. I didn’t mention our (unrequited) love triangle, that there was a third person in the relationship who kept me from being present for Liam. To explain the full truth would be a complex answer to what should be a simple question.
Most people hate to hear about unwarranted emotional complications. They don’t like messy. They want succinct, breezy, something that makes sense so they can move on. For example, look at the question, “How are you?” In casual conversation, folks expect us to reply with a “fine” or “good.”
No one wants a dissertation on how my mom is a total bitch who plays favorites and how the two of us are locked in a power struggle that’s only escalated since Braden died.
“How are you, Mallory?”
“Good, thanks. And you?”
That’s how I play it, every day.
What’s satisfying about peer counseling is that I can get past the surface with my counselees. I’m not afraid of the messy. I welcome the emotionally complicated. I engage so that I can help resolve. I want kids to know it’s okay if they aren’t “fine” or “good,” that I’m here regardless.
Mr. Gorton’s all, “I only want you to listen to them—what they’re looking for is a chance to be heard. Then you give them the appropriate literature and point them in the right direction.”
We’re not supposed to, but I know I can do more than just emotional triage. I’m not just gonna hand out related pamphlets when I can offer solutions. He expects me to sit here and nod, like I’m a human bobblehead doll; that’s just not me.
Would you not toss a drowning man a life preserver, especially if you have so many extras on your boat? Doesn’t make sense. I just wish I’d been better at it when it mattered most.
Ultimately, people confide in me because I’m trustworthy. I’ve never once squealed about what anyone’s told me. Literally, I’ll take their secrets to the grave. I mean, I didn’t even blab when I heard how Jasper cries after sex. Seriously. Sobbing. I’m saying boo-hoo-like-a-baby-with-a-bowl-of-Spaghettios-on-his-head tears. Every time. And I’ve heard this from multiple sources because boyfriend gets around.
How easy would it have been for me to be all, “What are you gonna do, JasHole, cry about it?” whenever he’d give me shit at the lunch table? I’m talking heroic self-restraint on my part. Yet I never have told. Never will, either.
At least I’m not forced to sit with Jasper anymore. That’s a definite upside to the breakup.
If my mom weren’t so relentless about my doing the whole Wall Street thing, I’d want to be a therapist. The one time I mentioned an interest, she said, “No kid of mine is going to be one of those Prius-driving deadbeats, getting paid in Kleenex and going home to all the cats in her studio apartment.”
Another argument I lost. Why do I even try?
Maybe I wouldn’t have been good professionally. If being there for Braden was my first test of being a mental health professional, then I failed. Profoundly.
I will always wish he’d said something to me, that I had a clue things had gotten so bad for him. If he’d opened up, if I’d truly let him in, could I have made a difference?
Maybe he kept those parts of him hidden because we were so tentative about our feelings for each other, both too proud to make the first move. What if one of us had relented? Seemed like any time we would touch on something real, the other would make a joke or redirect the conversation. I can think of a million examples where he and I did this dance, but the last time is the most profound.
It happened at my family’s lake house, in late summer. Braden was always coming up north with us. Said he liked not feeling like an only child.
Anyway, Braden and I were outside that night, the only ones not yet asleep. We were lying down at the end of the dock, watching the meteor shower. The stars were whizzing across the clear Wisconsin sky, exploding like the fireworks grand finale on the Fourth of July. The beauty of it all left me breathless and I was glad he was there to witness it with me.