The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [48]
“I told you, Sternin—what, you think I’m a liar now?”
“I don’t know what to think. You promised to help me and now you’re yelling at me like I made you do it. It was your fucking idea.”
“I tried. Jesus!” Jeremy is shouting now. “What the hell is the matter with you? You think your father dying over a decade ago matters anywhere near as much as my sister dying now?”
“Yes, I think it’s important,” I say, almost yelling. “I thought you did too.”
I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe I’m being so selfish. I should be focused on Kate. I should remember that we can talk about my father some other time, sometime later; tomorrow, even. But I can’t; I’m too mad. I only confided in Jeremy because I thought he understood that it was important; I thought he understood me. But maybe he never did.
He’s back up on his throne now, a million miles away from me. My problems aren’t nearly as important as those of the royal family. Even if they’re not all that different.
I’m seething. I can’t remember having ever been this mad at someone. I only realize I’m crying because when the wind blows, my tears are cold against my face.
Quietly, like it’s the beginning of an apology, Jeremy says, “Look, Sternin,” but I cut him off.
“Fuck you, Jeremy.” My anger has made me feel strong. “I trusted you. Fuck you.” I turn away from him and stomp into my lobby and press for the elevator. I don’t turn around in case he’s still there, watching me as I wait like an idiot for the elevator to come. It’s taking forever. Of all the times for it not to be here. So much for a dramatic exit. I’m angry at the elevator now too. These things don’t happen to people who live in the suburbs.
But when it finally comes, I step inside and turn around, and as the door closes, I see that he’s not there anyway, not waiting to say anything more, and I’m sure he walked away just as soon as I turned my back to him.
Later, when I can’t sleep, I look again at the picture of my parents. I turn the light on this time, stare at my mother’s legs across my father’s lap, his hand supporting her back. I want the picture to tell me something; to reveal something about the man my father was, the life he and my mother had. But I’ve stared at it before; the picture has nothing else to tell me. I resist the urge to crumple it up before putting it back in its place between the pages of the book.
Jeremy isn’t in school on Thursday, which is also the last day before winter break begins. School will be out until the new year. I’m not surprised, since he said he was getting tested today. In the light of day, I can see that I should call him, see how it went, see if it hurt as much as he was scared it would. I consider leaving physics class—pretending to go to the bathroom and calling him. I go so far as to begin to scoot off the tall lab stool. The tips of my shoes hit the floor, but then I change my mind. I slide back onto my seat and stare straight ahead at the chalkboard. I can’t forget that Jeremy and I fought. I know I said awful things, and I can’t imagine he’d want to hear from me right now.
But I want to know that Jeremy’s okay; that Kate’s okay. I tell myself that if something serious had happened, Jeremy would still call me.
School is different without Jeremy here. Lonelier. I eat lunch in the library. Over the last few weeks, Jeremy and I worked through lunch all the time. Sat in the library going over SAT words, taking bites of sandwiches in between. I never felt lonely then. But now I can’t imagine how I ever sat here by myself.
I wonder if Jeremy will come over for his bedtime cigarette. I wonder if his parents will ask why I’m not coming over for dinner tonight. It’s not fair that Jeremy doesn’t have to be lonely without me; he has his family to eat with tonight and I’ll be eating alone in front of the TV. And when he comes back to school, he’ll still have plenty of people to sit with at lunchtime.
17
My mother doesn’t comment when I walk in the door at three-fifteen