Текст книги "I Love Him, I Love Him Not "

Автор книги: Ella Martin

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Three

The sound of rain pelting my window woke me from a restless sleep the next morning, and its accompanying cold weather made me want to crawl back under the covers and never get out of bed. My clock said it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet, but even after my big cryfest, I was wide awake. I allowed a few minutes of futilely willing myself to sleep before I climbed out of bed and pulled on some fuzzy socks and a pullover hoodie before heading downstairs.

Mom and Dr. Griffin were in the kitchen speaking in hushed tones over cups of coffee. He was dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, and I got all mixed up about what day it was until I remembered he kept Saturday hours one weekend of every month. Mom looked relaxed in jeans and a cashmere sweater, more composed than I’d seen her since before the news of my dad’s accident. If I hadn’t known better, I never would have guessed she was crying just the night before.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said when she looked up. “You’re up early.”

“The rain woke me up.” I peered out the window above the kitchen sink. Water was sheeting down the glass.

Dr. Griffin stood and headed toward the sink. He offered a comforting smile, and I returned it with one of my own as I stepped out of his way.

“You okay?” he said as he rinsed out his mug.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Be careful out there,” Mom said as they said their good-byes. “It looks terrible.”

I looked out the window again and tried to remember if the weather was this bad the morning my dad died. It happened just a few days ago, but it seemed so much longer.

“He’ll be fine,” my mom said after the door leading to the garage closed. I glanced over my shoulder at her, and she added, “In case you’re worried about Rob.”

I grabbed a croissant from a pink pastry box on the counter and joined her at the breakfast bar.

“He told me you guys talked last night,” she said as I slid onto the stool beside her. I nodded, and she reached over to squeeze my hand. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too,” I said.

She never asked what we discussed, but I wasn’t surprised. I had a feeling Dr. Griffin told her everything she needed to know.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “We’ve never really talked about what happened that night.”

That night. I hung my head. The night I’d so successfully purged from memory until my dad waltzed back into our lives a few weeks ago. But now he was gone, this time forever. And my emotions were a jumbled mess.

I wondered if this was what Dr. Griffin meant by saying people process grief in their own ways. Then I wondered if I’d ever be able to resolve whatever feelings I still had for and about my dad, especially since I’d never have a chance to talk to him again.

“Your father and I hadn’t been getting along for some time before everything came to a head.” She spoke slowly, halting every few words as if she needed to carefully measure the weight of each one.

I waited. As she’d said, we’d never talked about what happened. I only knew what I’d pieced together from fragments of conversations I doubted I was meant to hear, and my imagination at age ten had been pretty active.

Mom started to say something but shook her head and stopped. She twisted her wedding band a few times and said, “What do you remember?”

The last bite of my croissant became very dry in my mouth, and I jumped up to pour myself a glass of juice. After a couple of gulps, I sat back down. Mom’s eyes were wide as she stared expectantly.

“He yelled a lot,” I said, “and you were always crying.” I folded my arms across my chest and hugged myself. “It was like the more you cried, the madder he got. I didn’t understand why you didn’t just scream back at him.” I glanced at her to gauge her reaction, but her expression hadn’t changed. Her eyes looked a little sadder, though.

“I thought it was my fault he was so angry,” I continued. “I mean, I knew about the restaurant and Franco taking money and stuff.”

Mom closed her eyes. “I’d almost forgotten about Franco,” she said, bitterness lacing her words. “I’m glad he didn’t have the nerve to show up when your father died.”

“I guess he screwed up a lot of stuff for the restaurant.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I warned your dad about entering into a partnership with Franco, but Vince assured me we could trust him.” She shook her head. “That’s where it all began, you know.”

“So, you mean, that time I got a C on my health test…?”

“Oh, honey,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “It was never about you.”

I nodded. I think a part of me had known that back then, but it was hard to reconcile when I’d heard my name so many times through closed doors.

Mom emptied her coffee cup and took a deep breath before she began telling me about their marriage, stuff I didn’t know and more stuff that didn’t make a ton of sense. She talked about how they’d supported each other through graduate school and thought they were invincible, how the pressures of building his restaurant and working her way up to partner had fractured the foundation of their marriage, how my birth was expected to re-cement their bond, how their differing ideas of parenthood ultimately drove them further apart. Watching her career take off while his restaurant folded had been like acid on his wounds.

I processed it as best as I could. In retrospect, it all made sense, and a part of me wished I’d known about all of it before, even though I knew ten-year-old me wouldn’t have understood half of it. There was stuff even sixteen-year-old me didn’t understand.

“But if things were so bad, why didn’t you just leave?”

“We’d talked about separating,” she said. Her body sagged, as though recounting everything was sucking the life out of her. “Nothing came of it, though. He’d throw it out there like a threat and dangle it over my head. I was too scared to take him up on it, and he knew it.”

My mother was scared? Really? This was the woman who could terrify the Westgate Prep administration into doing her bidding just by showing up. I didn’t think anything could rattle her. She was brilliant and passionate and determined—but scared? I didn’t think it was possible.

“Toward the end, I was tired of fighting,” she said. “That’s why I stopped answering him. That’s why I didn’t yell back. I knew it wouldn’t change anything.” She reached for my hand. “And every time he shouted at me, it took everything in me to keep it together for you.”

I closed my eyes, recalling images of my mom on the floor, sobbing. Or in a chair, or at the dining room table, or anywhere, always alone. My dad would break her spirit, reduce her to tears, and leave her where she fell. How could my mother still love someone like that?

“He was drunk that night, wasn’t he?” I asked, though I knew the answer. “He was always louder when he was drunk.”

She hesitated but finally nodded. “Vince said that was the last time he’d had a drink.”

“At least he realized he was out of control,” I mumbled.

If Mom heard me, she didn’t show it. “We didn’t expect you to come downstairs,” she said. “And had I known—”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” I finished for her.

“No, honey. Let me explain.” She put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “If I’d known you were watching, I would’ve done a better job of standing up to him.” She lowered her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. “Some role model I turned out to be.” Her voice cracked as she said it, and I leaned over to put my arm around her.

“You did fine,” I promised. “And I’m not the confrontational type anyway.”

“But I should have been protecting you,” she said with a sniff, “not the other way around.”

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, just the two of us trying to put bad memories and past mistakes behind us, but I felt closer to my mom than I had in a long time.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Something in my gut twisted when I turned on my phone and saw the messages from Jake later that morning. Three messages in all, two just texts and one with a photo, each of them friendly and upbeat, none of them mentioning what happened the night before.

Wakey wakey eggs & bakey!

Stores shouldn’t open before 12 on Sat. Or ever.

A picture of him with his thumb up holding a vinyl copy of the Clash’s London Calling. Near mint 79 press w lyric sleeves! he wrote. And it’s mine! BWAHAHAHAHA!

I read through his messages again and wondered if I’d imagined the events of the previous night. I touched my lips where his mouth had caressed mine and closed my eyes. No, it really happened.

So why didn’t he say anything? I wondered.

I flopped back onto my bed and covered my eyes with my forearm, trying to ignore the growing, persistent ache in my chest.

My phone chirped with a message from Bianca: Ok to hang out later?

Sure, I quickly wrote back. What’s up?

Game at 3 v Xavier, she responded. B said he’ll drop me off.

I laughed. Bianca must’ve really been over basketball. Not even the draw of watching her boyfriend run up and down the court could make her go.

Another chirp. Talked to J?

My fingers hovered over the touchscreen on my phone for a few moments. No, I finally replied. Why?

It took a few seconds before she responded, Curious, followed a few seconds later by, You should call him.

I sneered at my phone and decided her message didn’t warrant a response.

And anyway, I said silently, Jake’s at work, so I couldn’t call him if I wanted to.

Even as I argued with myself, I knew I was lying. I’d bugged him at work a bunch of times before, and he had always responded to texts. The truth was I was scared. A part of me wanted to repeat that kiss, to lose myself in all the tenderness he had to offer. But another part of me wondered if I’d only liked kissing him because my emotions were running so high the previous night and if that meant another kiss would feel empty and meaningless. But the biggest part of me, the one that had kind of taken over, wanted to hide from him, especially since his messages sounded totally normal, as if nothing had happened.

What did you expect? I asked myself. Flowers and a sonnet after you took off running?

I grabbed a pillow and covered my face to muffle a frustrated scream.

A bazillion thoughts flooded my head. Maybe it wasn’t a mistake to kiss him. I mean, it wasn’t like he’d objected to it. Maybe Tim was right and Jake really did like me, but if that was true, then it was probably stupid to run away. But something happened in that kiss, and it was awesome and perfect and transcended everything. Nothing that good could last forever. If we got together, I knew it would only be a matter of time before we’d break up, and I couldn’t handle losing my best friend.

Jake was my rock. I didn’t want to imagine my world without him.

I let out another agitated shriek into my pillow.

I could always hope love wasn’t just some stupid myth created by losers and saps. Maybe it was something real. Or maybe I’d been right all along, and love was only a fleeting, temporary thing.

Did I really want to take that chance?

I tossed the pillow aside and sat up, my fingers itching to do something productive to center myself. My brain was going in circles; I needed some clear direction. I spotted my sketchbook – the one with my Chicago poster ideas – and retrieved it from its place on the floor. After a few minutes of studying my scribbles, I cleared off space at my desk and set to work.

There was no sense dwelling on what had happened between Jake and me. I could worry about it later.

****

The doorbell startled me a few hours later, and, if not for my quick reflexes, I would’ve drawn a charcoal line clear across my sketch of Ally’s face.

“I’ll get it!” I shouted as I raced down the steps. I didn’t know where my mom was, but there was no need to disturb her.

I was surprised I hadn’t heard Brady’s engine before the doorbell rang. Bianca said he’d messed up his muffler or something, and I should be able to hear him coming from more than a block away. I was about to ask if he’d finally gotten it fixed when I flung open the door, but I found Jake standing on the doorstep instead. He was dressed in tattered jeans and a black motorcycle jacket, and the collar of the brown plaid flannel I gave him for Christmas was peeking out from the top of it. My knees almost buckled at the sight of him, and I shivered, though not because of the gust of cold air that blew past me. I had to grip the door handle to steady myself.

“You’re not Bianca,” I said with a smile.

He patted himself down and examined himself. “Nope. Not Bianca.”

“Talia, honey, who is it?” My mom materialized from the study that was her home office. “Jake! So good to see you again.” She turned to me and frowned. “Where are your manners? Don’t leave him out there in the cold. Come on in, Jake.”

He rocked on his heels for a couple of seconds before he said, “Yeah, okay,” and stepped carefully over the threshold.

“Can I get you something?” Mom asked, always the gracious hostess. She glanced at me. “Talia, at least offer to take his coat.”

Jake took a step back and pulled his jacket tighter. “No, it’s okay. I can’t stay long.”

Mom looked back and forth between us before she nodded once and said, “Well, I’ll be in my office if you kids need anything.”

“Thanks,” I said as she disappeared around the corner.

Jake handed me a small parcel. “Molly from the art store came by and asked me to bring this to you.”

“Oh, thanks.” It felt like a journal. I held it to my chest like a shield but stepped closer to him.

“Are you okay?” he said. “I didn’t—”

I held up a hand to stop him. “No, it was totally me. I was hyper-emotional, and I shouldn’t have….” I left the thought dangling in the air. I couldn’t bring myself to complete it, partially because I wasn’t sure which was worse, kissing him or running away.

“Oh.” His expression was unreadable as he pushed some damp curls out of his face. “Okay.”

A little voice inside me started to panic. He’s pulling away, you idiot. Do something!

“No.” I took another step toward him. “I mean, I guess I kind of freaked out, and I—”

“It’s okay,” he said, grinning. He opened his arms. “We’re good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, and my shoulders relaxed as he wrapped his arms around me, but I jumped back as I felt his phone buzz in his pocket. “Shoot,” he said after a quick glance at it. “I have to go.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Huh? Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair and shoved it back into his coat pocket. “It’s from Clover. I need to run home and get some stuff before I meet up with her.”

I blinked, surprised. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I definitely didn’t think he’d be going out with Clover. I ignored my lungs collapsing in my chest and forced a bright smile. “Tell her I said ‘hi,’” I said, my voice coming out in an uncharacteristic squeak.

“Will do.” He hesitated before he leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I’ll text you later,” he said as he hurried out the door.

Either time sped up or I was moving really slowly; I couldn’t tell. But before I could lock the door, I heard something that sounded like a building collapsing in on itself, and it was getting closer. I opened the door and stood on the doorstep, careful to stay under the overhang to avoid the drizzle. About a minute later, Brady’s black classic Mustang pulled into the driveway. Bianca climbed out of the front passenger seat and dashed toward me.

“He’s got to get that fixed,” I said as we watched Brady back out of the driveway. “Does he even know what’s wrong with it?”

She shook her head. “You’re asking the wrong girl. He and Tim and my dad all get together and start talking cars, and my head’s ready to just—” She put her hands by her head and made little explosions with her fingers. “Anyway, he promised he’ll take it to Freddie’s tomorrow, so I guess we’ll be carpooling with Tim until that’s fixed.”

We stepped into the house, and she hung up her jacket on the coat rack before we headed up to my room.

Bianca kicked off her shoes and flopped onto my bed. “Did I see Jake’s car at the end of the block?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” I tossed her the parcel he’d handed me earlier. “One of the ladies from Blue Period asked him to give that to me.”

She tore off the paper to reveal a black leather-bound journal. “Ooh, this is pretty.”

“Hmm? Yeah, I guess.”

“All right.” She set the book down beside her and studied me with narrowed eyes. “What’s going on?”

I shook my head and tried to wave away her question, but she was persistent.

“Either you’re going to tell me what happened while he was here, or I’m going to call Jake and ask him myself.”

That got my attention. “You wouldn’t,” I said, but when she reached for her phone, I added, “And anyway, he’s going out with Clover tonight.”

“Aww, and you’re jealous,” she said, practically cooing as though it was the cutest thing in the world.

“Hardly,” I said, “so don’t get too excited.”

“Oh, come on.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “You’re used to having Jake around all the time, and now he’s with another girl. Of course you’re jealous.”

I started to respond, but everything that came to mind would’ve only served to prove her point. I needed to change the subject.

“So what did I miss at school? Are Ally and Hunter all lovey-dovey and gross?”

Bianca laughed. “They’re cute together. Ally’s wigging out because I guess he hasn’t kissed her again since last week, but it’s not like they’ve been alone together a whole lot, either, you know? Oh, and I’m sure you saw it on the portal, but Jorgensen announced a quiz for Wednesday.”

“I haven’t even looked at my homework,” I said, frowning. “I guess that’s what I’ll be doing all day tomorrow.”

“And after Jake took such careful notes for you, too.” Her mouth curved into a smug smirk. “You know, Finn reminded him that you could get all the notes and stuff on the portal, but he did it anyway.”

“Well, yeah. I wasn’t there to take notes for him. What’s your point?”

“No point,” she said. “Just an observation.”

I knew what she was trying to do. She was reminding me of what a great guy Jake was. And as a friend, I wholly agreed. But how great could a guy be if he’d made plans with another girl after the way he’d kissed me the night before?

My instincts to run had been solid, after all. I just wished it didn’t hurt to be right.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Monday morning came way too soon. I’d spent most of Sunday in my room doing homework, mentally cursing myself for putting it off until the last minute. I may have been annoyed with Jake, but I was grateful for the notes he took in biology and European history. And he was right; I was pleasantly surprised at the level of detail he included. His notes ended up being way more helpful than the stuff the teachers had posted onto the portal, but a full week’s work was still a lot to cram into my Sunday.

The parking lot was practically deserted when I arrived at school Monday morning. As much as I complained about all the times Mom used to drop me off at school super early in the morning before I got my license, there was something kind of nice about being there before everyone else. I trudged up to the main building and noted how the rain from the past week had brightened up all the grassy areas. The bougainvillea wrapped around the gates surrounding the campus were starting to bloom.

I could see how people were drawn to the campus from the school’s website and promotional brochures. Westgate Prep really was a pretty school.

I headed for the library, the only place likely to be open forty-five minutes before the first bell rang. It felt more like a lounge than a traditional library. Large tables well suited for group projects and card games were positioned in the center of the room. Leather chairs and small tables occupied one corner, and a collection of carrel desks was crammed together in another. In the far back were the stacks, where someone would be as likely to find people making out as they would whatever reference material they needed, but I rarely went back there because I could find most of the stuff I needed online.

I greeted Mrs. Ryan, the librarian, with a small wave before I went to the carrel farthest from the door and pulled out my laptop. I’d fallen asleep in the middle of my French homework the previous evening; there was no other time I’d be able to get it done.

About half an hour later, I was writing my last few sentences when Ally materialized beside me.

“There you are,” she exclaimed. Mrs. Ryan hushed her, and Ally lowered her voice. “I saw your car in the lot but couldn’t find you,” she said in a loud whisper. “Why are you hiding in here?”

I spared her a glance but kept my head down. “I’m not hiding,” I said. “I’m finishing up French.”

“Homework?” She dropped her backpack onto the floor beside me and slid into a nearby chair. “Since when do you do your homework at school?”

“Since I totally procrastinated and did a bunch of non-homework stuff all last week.” I saved my work and prepared to shut down my computer.

“Jake’s all worried about you,” she said as I packed up my stuff. “He asked if I’d seen you because I guess you never texted him yesterday or something?”

I kept my eyes down. “I must’ve had my phone off.”

“But you texted me,” she said after half a beat. “What’s really going on?”

“Nothing.” I flung my backpack onto my shoulder and nodded toward the door. “Come on. We might as well go to homeroom.”

“Are you mad at him?” she asked when we stepped outside.

“No.” I was tempted to ask why she thought that, but I also knew if I asked any questions, she’d follow them up with more of her own. I loved Ally like a sister, but sometimes she could give Dr. Griffin lessons in prying.

The expression on her face said she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press any further.

“I asked Hunter to the Sweetheart’s Dance,” she said after a short pause, her eyes bright with excitement. “Last night. He said yes.”

“Of course he did.”

“Jake would probably go with you if you asked him, you know.”

I stopped in the middle of the hall. “Out with it, Ally,” I said. “Subtlety is not your strong suit.”

She grabbed my arm and continued walking. “You know I can’t reveal my sources, but I have it on extremely good authority that Jake really likes—”

“He’s going out with Clover,” I blurted. Just saying the words aloud made my chest ache.

“What?” It was her turn to block traffic. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I kept moving, knowing she’d catch up.

“Okay, I need deets,” she demanded.

I made her wait another minute until we got to homeroom before I said, “If I tell you something, you have to swear to absolute secrecy.”

She sat down in the seat in front of mine. “Of course.”

“I’m serious, Ally,” I said, fixing her with my most intense stare. “Not a single word. Not spoken, not on your blog, nothing.”

She drew an X across her heart and held up her right hand. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

I put my backpack on the ground beside my desk and put my head down. “I kissed him.”

“Who?”

“Jake.” It came out barely louder than a whisper, but when she screamed, I knew she’d heard me.

“You’re kidding!” She practically squealed.

“Shush,” I said. A couple of people turned in our direction, and I didn’t want them to overhear our conversation.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, though I doubted she really was. “When?”

I propped my elbows on my desk and rested my chin in my hands. “Friday night,” I said. “I went to his house after everyone went home.”

She beamed. “Was it amazing? It must have been amazing. Tell me it was amazing.”

I watched as a few people entered the room and took their seats near the front of the class. “I’m not discussing details.”

“Come on. You can at least tell me.”

I chose to ignore her. “Whatever. It’s not important.” I leaned back in my seat, and my stomach twisted as I explained, “He had a date with Clover the next night, anyway.”

Ally frowned. “Are you sure? Because my source—”

“Your source is wrong,” I said as the first bell rang and more people poured into the room. Ally moved to her seat one desk over as Bianca hurried to the spot she’d just vacated.

“Jake was looking for you,” she said, setting down her backpack. “Have you been hiding out all morning?”

“She was in the library doing homework,” Ally answered for me.

“You should turn your phone back on, at least.” Bianca slid into her seat and turned around. “Unless you’re just ignoring him.” When I didn’t respond, she let out a sigh and faced forward. “Passive-aggressive,” I heard her mutter.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” I said.

Ally whipped around in her seat. “What exactly happened?” She poked Bianca. “Did you get deets? I’ve heard next to nothing.”

I folded my arms on my desk and put my head down while my two best friends speculated about what was going on between Jake and me as if I wasn’t there. After a while, I tuned them out. I didn’t want to add to their conversation, anyway.

****

“So maybe he was just meeting up with her Saturday night,” Ally said as we left our geometry class a few periods later. “It doesn’t mean it was a date. I mean, they’re always hanging out, anyway, aren’t they?”

Mrs. Kanda, our math teacher, was out that day, and Coach Norton subbed, basically giving us a free period. As a result, I’d spent most of the last hour updating Ally on everything that had happened and answering most of the questions that followed.

“That’s kind of the point,” I said, stepping around a group of senior girls congregating in the middle of the hall. “They’re always together. And, I mean, after the way he kissed me—?”

“Wait,” Ally said. She had to move quickly to keep up with me. “I thought you kissed him.”

I stopped in front of my locker. “I did. But he kissed me back. And it was like, I don’t know.” I searched for the right words. “It was like it meant something.” I opened my locker and shoved my coat inside.

“Maybe that’s because it did.” She held up her hands. “Look, my source is absolutely certain—”

“Then ask your source for clarification, because this doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What doesn’t make sense?” Jake said as he materialized beside Ally. I jumped, and Ally let out a squeak.

“Jake!” She put her hand to her chest. “You can’t go around sneaking up on people like that. You could’ve given me a legitimate heart attack.” She wiggled some fingers in my direction and stuck her tongue out at him before she flounced away.

“Hey,” I said, slamming my locker door shut. I started toward history class.

“How’s your first day back so far?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Teachers are being super nice. Jorgensen told me after homeroom I don’t need to take that quiz Wednesday if I don’t want to.”

“You mean I didn’t have to take notes for you?”

“I guess not.” I bit back a smile. “Thanks for those, by the way.”

“Sure.” He lifted his chin to acknowledge Keith and some other guys as they passed us before he said, “I texted you yesterday.”

“Oh, I turned off my phone,” I lied, hoping he wouldn’t question me. I glanced at him but couldn’t read his expression. “Did you and Clover have fun Saturday?”

He grunted, which could have meant anything, and I inwardly fumed. If he wasn’t going to clue me in on whatever was happening between him and Clover, I wasn’t going to pry. And I wasn’t going to moon over him like some lovesick puppy dog, either. Friend or no, I refused to be a part of the game he was playing.

“Did you finish those posters for Chicago?” he asked.

“Mostly.”

“And Riley’s deciding today?”

“Yeah.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence and were almost at our class when he grabbed my hand to stop me.

“Are you okay?” he said, his brow furrowed with concern.

I pulled my hand from his reach and folded my arms across my chest. “What? No. I’m fine.”

“Did I miss something? It kind of feels like you’re approaching subzero.”

I stared at him and weighed the possibility he might not have known what he’d done. But that was ludicrous. The more I considered it, the more certain I was there was no way he could not know. Guys didn’t go kissing girls the way he kissed me and then go out on a date with a different girl the next night. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it when I realized I didn’t know where to begin. I turned away with a huff and left him in the middle of the hall as I strode into class.