The Leaving Season (23 page)

Snap!

“I am so sending this out to the interwebs,” Haley said as she clicked her iPhone over my ring. We were at a corner table at the Matchbox on Monday afternoon, drinking giant cups of frothy cappuccino.

“It's not really something to celebrate,” I'd cautioned her when I showed her the ring at my locker that morning. “I'm not even wearing it on my left hand.”

She aimed her phone on an angle and squinted at the image on the screen. “Don't move. This is perfect.”

Snap!
More typing. Another picture sent out into the ether.

She saw my worried look and waved me away. “It's just a few friends, not the world. Did you set a date?” she asked, settling back in her chair and crossing long, muscular legs in front of her as she sipped at her coffee.

“I told you it's not official. We are not actually
engaged
.”

Haley's phone buzzed on the table and she grinned at it. “Hang on. Text. Corey. And another from Katrina. Oh, a third from Debra. Can I tell them we're here?” she asked even as she typed a response. “Katrina says don't say anything until she gets here. Okay?”

“But there's nothing—”

“Ah! Stop!” She held a palm up to me while she tapped her phone with the other hand. “They'll be over in, like, five. Let's just sit quietly.”

“No more pictures?”

“No more pictures.”

I splayed the fingers of my right hand on top of the table and adjusted the ring so the diamond and emeralds were perfectly centered. I felt incredibly lucky: Nate had forgiven me and Lee. Every single one of my friends would jump at the chance to be in my position. It was kind of insane that he wanted
me
.

“What are you getting Nate for Valentine's Day?” I heard Haley ask.

“Oh geez, I have no idea,” I said.

“It better be something special after he gave you that blingy-bling.”

I twisted the ring on my finger just as my phone buzzed with a text. Allison.
Omg! xoxoxox

I smiled at the message. She sent another:
Best guy ever! Lucky!

I was. Luckiest girl ever.

Then I wondered who else had seen Haley's photos.

Between final exams and taking the SATs for a second time, the rest of January passed in a blur. But I did manage to find the perfect Valentine's Day gift for Nate, and I couldn't wait to give it to him.

About an hour before Nate was coming to pick me up, Emma waltzed into my room with a wrapped box and crawled onto my bed. “It's not for you,” she said. “It's for Nate. Can I give it to him tonight?”

“You want to go on our date?”

She rolled her eyes as if I were stupid. “He's coming here first. I want to give it to him then.
Before
you give him yours,” she added.

I handed the present back with a grin and shooed her off the bed. “Sure, now go so I can get ready for my
date
.”

“Okay, okay,” she grumbled, dragging herself to the door. “You and Nate are getting married now, aren't you?”

I froze. “What makes you say that?”

“The ring. Allison said that's an engagement ring.”

“Well, not really, but—”

“If you and Nate don't get married, can I marry him?”

“Can you . . . ?”

“Not
now
,” she said. “I'm not old enough yet. Duh.”

“Maybe you should ask Nate instead of me.”

“Oh. Okay.” She shrugged and left my room.

Nine years old
, I thought.
Only nine and she has her whole life planned out. First she will conquer Brownies, then the Girl Scouts, and then Nate. If she were ten years older, she probably
would
make a good choice for him.
I laughed to myself.

The moment he arrived, before he could even set foot in the living room, Emma thrust her present at Nate. “Happy Valentine's Day! This is from me. Not Middie.”

Nate accepted the gift graciously, of course, and even gave her a peck on the cheek as a thank-you. She'd made him an intricate friendship bracelet with very masculine colors of brown and navy blue, which he insisted on wearing right away.

“Okay, Middie, it's your turn,” she said.

I glanced at Nate. “Well, I kind of thought I'd give you your present when we were out.”

“You don't mind doing it now, do you?” he asked.

“Okay, sure.” I pulled a flat box out from the dining room and handed it to him. “You first,” I told him as I sat down on the couch beside him. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he saw what I'd gotten him.

Emma hung over Nate's shoulder as he carefully unwrapped the paper. “Rip it!” she shouted at him. “Don't be neat!”

He grinned at her and then up at me. “You sound just like your sister.”

As usual, Nate took his sweet time. He even paused briefly to smooth the unwrapped paper with his fingers and place it in a neat pile. Finally, he opened the top of the box.

Under the tissue paper was a brand-new shade box to replace the one that had been damaged in the jungle. Nate's eyes lit up. “Middie! It's perfect.”

I grinned, happy he liked it. “It's not as nice as the other one—”

“I love it.”

“And it's not filled like the other one—”

“We'll fill it together.” He leaned over and kissed me quickly on the lips. “Now open yours.” He handed me a much larger box, also flat, wrapped expertly in red-and-white Valentine's Day paper.

With great care, I shook the box from side to side and then held it aloft as if I could see through the bottom of the wrapping. Then, unlike Nate, I tore off the ribbons and paper and threw them in the air like confetti. Emma clapped her hands. Inside, under a layer of white tissue paper, was a dress.

A blue dress.

A plain blue dress.

I stood and held it up to my body. It was conservatively styled, with cuffed sleeves and cloth-covered buttons, a
thin belt around the waist, and a stiff pointed collar. The material was twill, smooth and satiny, and the hem fell to my knees.

It was ugly. It was boring.

It was . . . not me.

Not me
anymore
.

“I like it!” Emma said.

I felt Nate's eyes on me, waiting for my response. I . . .

I hate it.

I glanced up at him. “It's nice.”

Nate let out a breath. “Allison helped me pick it out. I wanted to get you something new so you wouldn't have to wear her clothes anymore.”

“Her clothes?”

“Yeah, they were nice, but they really weren't
you
.” Nate's eyes lit up. “You can wear it next week on campus. Allison said it will look good with my suit.”

“Ooh, can I come?” Emma asked. “I want to see you give your speech!”

And in that moment, I saw my life ahead as plain as the dress in my hands: no surprises, no challenges, no changes allowed. Our lives would be as neatly put together as the folded wrapping paper on the table. Our clothes would match. Our schools would match. Our schedules would match. Our lives would match.

Nate wanted to return to the security he'd had before his trip.

I wanted the messiness I'd had after he left.

He wanted comfort and simple colors.

I wanted lace and high-heeled boots and skirts that swirled.

I carefully folded the dress back into the box and replaced the lid. Then I put it down on the coffee table.

“Middie? Is it the wrong size?” Nate asked. “Do you want to exchange it?”

I stared at the box and said nothing. But there must have been something in my body language that told Emma that I wanted some privacy with Nate, because she scurried up the stairs to her room, leaving us alone. I walked over to the fireplace and picked up a photograph of all of us and Nate at a barbecue about seven years ago. Emma was just a toddler holding on to Nate's legs for support. Nate had been in our lives then, even when he was just a friend.

He was just a friend.
He's just a friend.

I twisted the ring off my finger and, turning from the fireplace, held it out to Nate in the palm of my hand. “I can't take this.”

“But why? I thought everything was back to normal.”

“It . . . is. It is back to normal, and I guess . . . I guess I don't want normal.” Objects in the room swam before my eyes—the couch, the coffee table, the gifts and wrapping paper—as if I were underwater. Nate gazed down at his lap, at his grandmother's ring.

“I don't understand. I love you. Don't you love me?”

“I do love you. I'll always love you, but . . . I'm sorry, Nate,” I whispered.

Nate wouldn't yell. I knew that. He wouldn't throw anything or lose his temper. Although I wished he would. It would make it a lot easier to say good-bye.

“You're . . . sure?” he asked me quietly.

I nodded quickly before I completely lost it. “I really am. I'm horrible, a horrible person.”

“You could never be horrible,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes and felt tears fall down my cheeks.

He stood and tucked the ring into his pocket. His face was so long, so forlorn, I wanted to tell him,
Wait! I'm wrong, I'm so wrong, I didn't mean any of it. Please take me back—

But I didn't. I watched him go, leaving the present I'd gotten him.

I held the box and felt the years of friendship, of love, of Nate and Middie together forever, stretch between us. We'd been each other's first everythings: date, kiss, make-out session. We'd been to proms and swim parties, to church potlucks and summer barbecues. We'd marched in parades down Main Street and attended CPR classes together. School and family and friends were all intertwined for years and years and years.

I loved Nate. I loved who he was in my life. But I wanted to have
more
experiences in my life.

Tell us about an experience that defines you.

I didn't want the definition of me to be Nate.

I wanted more
firsts
in my life, and even some seconds and thirds.

I let go of the box. I let go of Nate.

I arrived at Lee's house at dusk and the place looked closed up, doors locked, windows dark. I didn't see the Vespa anywhere, so I assumed Lee was out with Liza to celebrate Valentine's Day.

I didn't really want to see him. I only wanted to drop off his sweatshirt, the one he'd loaned me on our night in the tree house. With this, I was free of all . . . entanglements. I was finally just me, just Middie.

No.
Meredith.
I was Meredith Daniels.

Just as I placed a plastic bag with the hoodie on the front step of Lee's house, I heard the
crunch
of gravel behind me and turned to see Lee ride up on his Vespa, alone. He swung his leg off the seat and dropped the kickstand. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice hard.

“Leaving.”

“What's that?” He bobbed his head at the bag at my feet.

“Yours.”

He crossed the space between us in several long strides and snatched the bag off the step. “My sweatshirt.”

“What'd you think it was?” I felt my voice rise. I should have stepped back and away from him as he approached, but I held my ground. “I don't keep anything that isn't mine.”

He stared down at me. “Neither do I.”

“If it's not freely given to me, I don't want it.”

“Neither do I,” he said again.

We were inches apart but truly so far away from each other. A cool moist wind blew through us and between us. Snow was in the air.

“I should go,” I said, trying to keep my tone firm but light. I didn't need Lee to see I was still nervous around him, that my skin still tingled when I was near him and my heart thumped in my ears. I started to walk around him, but he stopped me.

“Does Nate know you're here?” he asked. I shook my head and he snorted derisively. “Figures.”

Anger bubbled up in me. I clenched my fingers into fists by my sides. “I never
cheated
. Nate was gone. You were here. Nate came back. You were gone.” I leaned into him. “See how that works? No cheating.”

He laughed once and took a step toward me. “Please. You still wanted me even when he was around.”

I rolled my eyes. “You? Get over yourself.”

“Still calling, still texting—”

“Still crashing parties you weren't invited to.” Even as we argued, our bodies moved closer, as if we were magnetized to each other. The gap between us narrowed to centimeters, until we were separated by just the clothes we were wearing. I felt my fingers reaching toward him, felt his hips sway into mine and his breath blow the delicate hairs on my cheek. We
were so close I could almost hear his heart beating through his chest.

His lips were nearly touching mine. “Why are you here? Go back to Nate and start planning your silly little wedding.”

“You knew about that?” I asked.

“I'm not completely ignorant of social media.” Lee's eyes blazed. “And I know I could never give something like
that
to you. Manicured lawns and perfection? Look at my crappy bullshit fucking life.” He gestured a long arm at his house, at the peeling paint and bent window shades. “That's why I am your backup plan. The guy you keep in the wings in case anything happens. Like when someone
dies
. I will not be your backup plan.”

I wanted to slap him across the face. “Tell me you don't love me,” I said.

“I don't love you.”

“I don't believe you.”

“I
don't
love you.”

He started to walk away.

“But I love you,” I blurted. He spun back to face me, stared hard at me again.

I scoffed and shook my head at him. “You are a fucking idiot, you know that? Do you know what I did, Lee? Huh? I destroyed everything. I fucked it all up. I threw it all away. All that perfection, all that manicured crap? It's gone, all gone. The ideal guy, the perfect future, the having the world
on a string?” I made a snipping gesture in the air. “I cut it loose. I cut
Nate
loose.”