Between Here and Forever - Elizabeth Scott [22]
He forgot the bag, and I waited until I heard the ferry churning over the water before I went over and got it. Inside was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a note. Two words.
I’m sorry.
I sat there, feeling the wind blow sand onto me and into my clothes, feeling the night air turn the paper bag damp. I threw the bag into the river—peanut butter couldn’t be worse than the chemicals already there—and tore the note into pieces and sprinkled it onto the road as I walked home, watching the tiny bits of paper turn gray and oily as they soaked into the street.
I walked home and watched a movie about the end of the world with Tess. A few days later, she came home from work and said Jack had come in and told her he wanted to know if she’d ever go out with him.
“I felt so trapped, like I had to do something, say something,” she said. “There were all these people watching us, and I could tell he wanted me to say yes. I could tell everyone wanted me to say yes because it would be such a cute story to tell their friends and plus he would be happy and everyone else would too, but I just … I couldn’t. The weird thing was, after I said it, he said, ‘I wish I didn’t have to know your answer. I wish I didn’t even want to ask.’ I was like, ‘So why did you?’”
Because he’d needed to know.
Because sometimes, you have to break your own heart.
I know Jack didn’t want to hurt me. But he did, and all the love I’d felt twisted into hate.
I hated Jack, but I hated myself more. I wanted someone to see me—just me—and want me, and I’d seen it wasn’t going to happen. But what had I done? Gone ahead and tried anyway. It was stupid. And I paid for it.
I don’t have to worry about that now. I’ve learned my lesson, and I don’t even want to think about trying anything with anyone again. Ever. I just want to be left alone.
And I am.
fifteen
Claire’s outside as I pass her house, picking up toys Cole’s left in the yard.
“Hey,” she says. “Wanna help me pick up this stuff?”
I get off my bike and lean it against her mailbox, then head into her yard.
“Thanks,” she says. “I swear, these things multiply. Oh, and tell your mom I said thanks for the coffee, okay? I got called away before I could say it. You’d think I was the only person in the whole damn hospital who knows how to empty a bedpan.”
“You had coffee with my mom?” I didn’t know Mom talked to Claire. She sure hadn’t back when Tess stopped talking to Claire because the one time we drove by her house and Mom waved at Claire when Tess was in the car, Tess wouldn’t talk to her for three days.
“Yeah, I ran into her when she and your dad came to see Tess. How’s your dad doing, anyway? He seemed—I don’t know. Really quiet.”
I shrug, because Dad is a pretty quiet guy, plus talking about the hospital had me thinking about my own earlier misadventures. I still didn’t get why Eli hadn’t talked more. Don’t good-looking people love to talk about themselves? Tess sure did, even though she had a way of doing it that made you feel like it was something you wanted.
“Why are you so quiet yourself?” Claire says. “Oh, wait. Your plan. Abby, you didn’t really think it would work, did you?”
“It’s going to work,” I say. “I just—okay, how do you get a guy to talk? What would you ask a guy if you were talking to him? What would Tess ask?”
Claire laughs, but the sound is bitter. “Tess never had to ask—”
“Exactly,” I say. “I just thought … I thought when he saw her, he’d just start talking. But he didn’t, and I don’t—I’m not good with this kind of stuff.”
Claire laughs, for real this time. “You’re full of it, and you know it. You thought the guy would see Tess and say her name and she’d wake up. I hate to break it to you, Abby, but you’re as much of a believer in that happily ever after, perfect ending stuff as Tess was.”
“Is,” I say automatically and Claire looks down at the ground. I hand her the toy I’m holding and add, “And I’m not—you know I’m not like Tess.”
Claire takes the toy and lets out a little sigh. “Ask him about