Authors: Rachel Vail
THEY GOT ENGAGED.
My mother was going to marry Kevin’s father. My head was so messed up my eyes were crossing. Literally. I had to keep pressing my palms against them to keep them from spinning.
Mom woke me up in the morning to tell me and show me the ring. It was beautiful, a sapphire with a small diamond on either side. It looked perfect on her hand. We went to her big bed and she told me all about how he’d asked, flowers, tears, down on one knee, until I really couldn’t take it anymore. I headed upstairs to get myself some crackers, or privacy.
Mr. Lazarus cut me off at the stairs and asked to speak with me alone. “Sure,” I said, because, truly, what more could happen? I was a long way from the girl who’d cried in Mr. Hair-Man’s office over my mother being called when I’d kissed Kevin. The first time. Holy crap.
I grabbed my jacket off the hook and stomped into my boots.
“I want to ask for your blessing,” Mr. Lazarus told me as we walked outside, toward the wood pile of all places.
“My blessing?” It was a bit hard for me to concentrate there. Scene of the crime, so to speak.
“To marry your mother. I love her, Charlie. I love her very much.”
“I know.” I wrapped my arms around myself the way Kevin had wrapped his around me in an earlier lifetime, in that same spot.
“I know there are some parts of this that are awkward . . .”
He should only know. “Yeah.”
“You and Kevin are . . .”
“Are what?”
Does he know?
“We’re friends,” I snapped, sounding a heck of a lot more defensive than I’d planned to.
“What?” he asked. “Yes, right. You guys are having some fun this week, right?”
Shoot me now. “Depends what you mean, I suppose.”
“What I mean is, you and Kevin are clearly old enough to, well, feel . . . a little . . . awkward, blending families at this stage.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. Samantha knew; obviously Joe knew. Did my mother, too? Was she inside interrogating Kevin at this moment? Would he admit or deny? We should have made a plan. Tess would’ve made a plan. Tess.
“You seem very tense.”
“I’m not!”
He smiled Kevin’s smile. Okay, that denial sounded completely tense, even I had to admit, and I am clearly a champion of denial.
“Well,” I said. “This is a slightly tense situation.”
“Yes, I know that it is, Charlie . . . but . . .”
“What?”
Let’s cut to the chase, here. I’m getting frostbite
.
How long does it take to say don’t kiss him ever again?
“I think we could make a really great family. I will never try to be your father or to come between you and your dad in any way.”
“Okay.” So, did he not know then? Was this a case of ABC’s theory that you can’t know what I’m thinking because you’re not me? I’m sorry—my dad? He thought I was tense because of my
dad
?
“I think you and I could have some fun together, Charlie. I’m going to try to be a really good stepfather to you. I like you so much already, your tough façade, your killer instincts, your independence, your vulnerability. I want to really get to know you even better—what makes you tick, what your hopes and dreams are. Okay?”
“Sure, Mr. Lazarus,” I said. Because, truly, what else could I say? And I was cold. Independence? Please. And if he didn’t already know my hopes or dreams, I was perfectly happy to keep it that way. Nobody ever needed to know. Good lord. Tess.
He put his mittens on my jacket sleeves, which kind of freaked me out, as an echo of the last time I’d stood there with someone’s mittens on my sleeves. “Will you please call me Joe?”
“Maybe someday,” I said. “Can we go in? I have to make a phone call.”
She picked up on the third ring. My stomach was in knots as soon as I heard her voice. I sat down on the floor. “Tess?”
“Hey, pal,” she said. “I heard you were sick. Are you better? Happy New Year.”
Kevin walked over, his cereal bowl in hand. “Who’s that?” he whispered.
“Tess,” I said. If she had heard I was sick it meant he’d called her already, right? What had he told her?
“Yeah,” she said. “You okay? You don’t sound good. What’s wrong with you?”
What’s wrong with me? Now there’s a question.
“I . . .” My breakfast was gurgling around inside my stomach. “What did . . .” I looked at Kevin and mouthed,
did you tell her?
He shook his head.
“Charlie? What’s going on there?”
“You were right, Tess,” I said in a rush, looking at Kevin. “He gave her a ring. They’re getting married.”
“Oh, my God! Charlie! Charlie?”
“Yeah.”
Kevin stepped toward me. “Chuck . . .” The room tilted.
“Tess, I have to . . .” I dropped the phone on Kevin’s foot, ran to the bathroom, and puked my guts up.
KEVIN AND I didn’t talk about what had happened or what we were going to do. Mostly we avoided each other as much as possible the rest of the time in Vermont and on the ride home, let Samantha sit between us again. There was a bit of singing in the car, but none of it was by me or Kevin. When we said good-bye at their house, Kevin and I made eye contact for the first time in a while. He stared deep into my eyes and it is possible he was thinking that he loved me. Or that he was confused. Or that he hoped we could just forget what had happened, or that he was about to go call Tess and break up with her because he loved me so passionately. It was impossible to tell. Samantha hugged me good-bye. So did Joe. Kevin just stared. I got into the front passenger seat and rested my forehead against the cold window as we drove away.
I missed the first two days back to school, but managed to talk to Tess a few times on the phone without vomiting, which I considered progress. Apparently Kevin didn’t break up with her or tell her anything that had happened between us because Tess was not only still talking to me but telling me how Kevin and she had been flirting so much by IM since we got back, and begging me to tell her if he had bought her a present while we were away. Luckily I was still feeling sort of weak, the postsick limpness that makes me more patient and less likely to interrupt, so I could let Tess go on and on about what she should do about Kevin, as well as her opinions regarding my mother, the wedding, what we should wear to it, and what life would be like afterward for us all.
The morning I got back to school, everybody was calling Kevin my brother. They seemed to think that was just the greatest thing. I nodded a lot. Which house were we going to live in (mine, since his actually is a rental, as Tess had said) and would his pool table go in my basement (still undecided at that point). It was exhausting. Even Mr. Hair-Man congratulated me. I couldn’t look at him, in case he remembered the last time he said my name and Kevin’s in the same sentence.
At lunch Tess continued to chatter about the wedding and the romance and how exciting it was. Darlene thought so too, though she also wanted to change the subject to the party she was having at her house a week from Saturday. I was pretty enthusiastic about discussing the party—anything to get off the subject of my screwed-up life. I listened happily to her rambles about what the theme should be, who should be included in the all-important setup, which people she hoped or dreaded would come, whether she should ask out Brad before the party or at it. I glanced at Jennifer when Darlene said that, but Jen turned away.
We headed out to the courtyard after Kevin swung by our table. Tess was holding hands with Kevin, walking between him and me toward the door. It was exactly what I had been picturing, dreading—and it felt even worse than I’d expected.
“You are both so moody,” Tess said. “You should just get over yourselves and enjoy it, all the excitement and romance and possibilities for fun this brings up.”
Yeah, well.
I didn’t know where I stood with Kevin at all, although obviously we would not be going to the prom together, ever. I didn’t know how I felt about him any more than I knew how he felt about me. Or even how I wanted either of us to feel. But I knew what had happened.
It didn’t just happen either. I had wanted to kiss him; I had wanted him to kiss me. I’d wished for it; I’d willed it. I’d known he was going out with her at the time and what position that put me in. And I knew—I’d always known—what kind of person that made me.
He hadn’t looked at me at all since we got back. I guess I’d known that was probably what would happen. I had tried to prepare myself for it.
My insides felt like shattered glass.
Tess turned to me, her hand still in Kevin’s, and asked if I was happy.
“Happy?”
“A little happy? She’s in love, your mom—don’t you at least think that’s romantic?”
“Oh,” I said. “Sure.”
“Are you?” she asked Kevin.
“Overjoyed,” he said. “I’m gonna shoot some hoops.”
Tess and I watched Jennifer and the boys play. I was thinking, too bad I’m not the girl my father had wanted, out there shooting hoops, everything clear—win or lose, the goal obvious, knowing which side you’re on. Kevin went up for a layup and missed.
“He’s so cute, isn’t he?”
I shrugged. Every trail of conversation with my best friend hid land mines.
“I’m so whipped,” Tess whispered. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Kevin the whole vacation. It is such . . . it’s so different from eighth grade.”
“Do you feel like he fathoms you, though?”
“What? Does what to me?”
“Nothing. Something my mom said.”
“Oh. She has some weird theories.”
“I guess.”
“But you have to tell me something, Charlie.”
“What?”
“And I want you to remember that you were my best friend a long time before you got to be his almost-stepsister.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I remember.”
“Tell me the truth. Did Kevin kiss anybody over vacation?”
“What?” I had to stretch my legs. I stood up. “Why, why, why do you think that?”
“He did, didn’t he?” Tess stood up, too. “I had a feeling. Oh, man.”
Here it was, then—and she was giving me a chance to come clean, to admit it, to apologize, to take whatever she dished out. “Tess,” I said. My hands were shaking again, and I squeezed my fists tight.
This is a trauma of my own making,
I reminded myself. Why would anybody ever want to have a friend, when a friend might turn out to be like me? “The thing is . . .” How to begin? I’m sorry? I don’t know how it happened, it just happened? More lies?
“Who did he kiss?”
That stopped me. She didn’t know it was me?
“Tell me the truth—he kissed somebody on New Year’s Eve, right?”
I couldn’t believe it. I was getting off on a technicality. “No,” I swore. “He did not kiss anybody on New Year’s Eve. Except his little sister, maybe. I promise.”
“Okay.” She sniffled. “You promise? I had a whole story worked out. He met a girl in ski school, and she was beautiful . . .”
“I was the only one in his ski school class.”
“Just you?” Tess looked relieved. She leaned lightly against me, the way Kevin had on the ski lift.
“Why . . .” I had to ask. I couldn’t stop myself. “Why do you think he kissed somebody?”
“He’s just acting kind of weird to me, since he got back. I don’t know. Like awkward, or distant. So I starting thinking maybe he had fallen in love with somebody over the break.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, or at least made out with somebody.” She sighed. “I know you think he’s a bit of a slut, Charlie, because of how many girls he’s kissed. But he really means a lot to me.”
“I know.”
“Do you think he loves me, though?” she asked. “I told him I loved him.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. We were online after you got back, and I told him, and he said, ‘me, too.’ Do you think that counts?”
All I could do was nod.
“Despite the fact that he’s been acting weird? Or do you think it’s that he’s a little messed up, like you are, about your parents?”
“You think I’m messed up?”
“Deeply,” she said, flinging her arm around me. “You are deeply messed up, my friend.”
“You’re right,” I answered. “I am.”
“Yup,” she said. “So am I.”
“You’re not. You’re perfect.”
“We are all messed up,” Tess said. “Each in our own unfathomable ways.”
I slung my arm around her shoulder too, wondering if that was true. Was she as complicated as I was? Could she betray me the way I had betrayed her? The thought unsettled me completely, what we’re capable of, any of us.
When the bell rang, Tess and I walked into school together, not chatting for once. We went to our lockers, to continue with our school day as if everything were normal, as if we still had confidence in ourselves and each other. Maybe she still had confidence. I realized there was no way for me to know for sure.
What I did know absolutely is that I was stuck. I hadn’t told her. I knew now I could never tell her, not just because I am a wimp and weak and dishonest, but also because I had missed my chance. Telling her at some later point would mean admitting that, in addition to everything else, I hadn’t been honest enough to come out with it right up front. In fact, I had pretty much denied it.
She could never forgive me for that. She
should
never forgive me for that. If I were her I’d never forgive me. She loves him. If she ever learned the truth, it would destroy our friendship.
So I could never tell her the truth.
But I also knew, because of the way I felt every moment I spent with her since I got back from Vermont, that if I didn’t tell her it would destroy our friendship anyway.
Maybe it was already destroyed and we just didn’t know it yet.