I write about people I used to know and how I used to be. When I was a friend of girls. And a girlfriend of boys.
And finally, I write a letter to Evan because I want to. I want to know him. My words are real. I have to say them. Because there are things about me he needs to understand if he’s going to know me. And they’re things I can’t imagine saying to his face. Not yet. Writing is safe. I tell him what happened and what I’m like now. I tell him I stay inside because I’m afraid. I tell him I’m working on it, but I don’t know if I’ll ever change. I tell him he’s the first person I’ve wanted to know in a very long time. I tell him things that are real and true, and I hope admitting them will make him come back, because the last eleven days of not seeing him have felt like a really long time.
chapter eleven
I decide to deliver my letter to Evan as soon as I’m done writing it. I’m eager to get it to him before I chicken out. I want to be someone Evan might like. Maybe it’s selfish to want that because liking me is a lot of work, but I think it’s brave, too. I open my front door. I peek out, craning my neck to see his front door. Even standing on my welcome mat, I’m too far to be able to reach his apartment. If I toss my letter over there, I might miss and risk it sailing through the slats of the balcony railing and into the pool. Evan has a welcome mat, too. It says ALOHA on it in rainbow colors. If only I could take a couple steps, I’d be able to stick my letter under it. Or I might even be able to secure it near the handle of the screen door. I visualize this. I breathe. I move my upper body forward, but my feet don’t follow. They can’t. Being out here alone is different from being out here with Brenda. Evan’s apartment is too far away. So I do the only thing I know how to do: I go back inside and lock my front door behind me.
*
That night, Ben rushes inside, practically plowing my mom down as she pulls her keys from the knob. He’s all flushed and panting, with his brown curls sticking to his sweaty head. He unzips his backpack and yanks out a red folder, shaking it in my face.
“Look! I’m in a play!”
He’s so excited, and it’s hard not to get caught up in it. I high-five him. “That’s so cool. What are you going to be?”
He wrinkles up his nose. “I’m a frog. But a really smart one. I know everything.”
“Sounds like the perfect role for you.”
My mom chuckles as she moves past us and into the kitchen, where she sets two bags of groceries on the counter.
“It’s gonna be in the auditorium,” Ben continues. “There’s a real stage there. They even have one of those spotlight machines. And everyone is invited. Even you. Will you come?”
I try to imagine myself sitting in a dark auditorium packed with people and not being able to keep my eye on all of them at once. The idea makes me feel so sick that I almost wonder if I need an emergency pill. I take a deep breath. I think of my list.
1. Breathe.
2. You are okay.
3. You are not dying.
I brush the hair back from Ben’s face and pull his chin up to look at me. “We’ll see.”
“You’re going to come, right? Yeah, I know you’re going to come.” It’s like he’s talking himself into believing it. I don’t know what to say, so I plant a kiss on his cheek instead of talking. He plops down on the middle of the living room floor to look at his script. “Wanna read all the parts with me?”
His grin is so huge. It’s as wide as the whole room. I sit down next to him and pull him into my lap. “Tell me who you want me to be,” I say.
“You can be all the parts except for the frog. And the alligator. I want to be the alligator, too. He’s crazy.” He waves his hands up in the air to indicate crazy.
I laugh. “Okay.”
When we finish reading, I send Ben next door to deliver my letter to Evan before I change my mind. I wait. My heart thumps. And I cross my fingers.
Ben comes back a little bummed out.
“Nobody’s home. But I left it for him.”
“Where?”
“By the door.”
“Good job. Thank you.”
So now I have to wait. And wonder. I picture Evan reading my words. What will he think of them?
*
An hour later, it’s dark and cold outside, but it’s cozy and bright in my apartment. I help Ben with his homework and fill up the tub for him with warm water and bubbles. My mom fixes dinner, and we eat together in front of the TV. We watch a cartoon that makes Ben laugh so hard, he snorts.
“Chew your food,” my mom says.
I hear Evan and his mom come home while we’re eating.
I hear them banging around in the kitchen. I hear the whir of the microwave. I tilt my head toward the wall, trying to make out the sound of something meaningful.
“You okay?” my mom asks.
“Mm-hm.”
But she doesn’t stop watching me.
I eventually hear the clanging of dishes in the sink next door. And then I don’t hear anything at all. Ben falls asleep against my shoulder. My mom picks him up off the couch as his arms droop limply at his sides. She shuffles him off to the bedroom.
I sit in the dark for a few minutes. I want to be alone. But then my mom calls out to me.