Page 279 of Something Rad
I watch her shake her head at me, but I can tell she’s slipping, mentally and physically. She’s sinking down, settling on top of the counter, her eyes searching my face.
I mirror her, sitting down on the counter as well, swallowing hard as I lock in on those sad storms through the window. “Look,” I breathe, “I’m going to be in here for sixty days. Minimum. So, for eight weeks, I’ll be here. But, as for you…” I raise my hand, tracing her features with my finger through the glass, trying to memorize them all over again, making sure I got them absolutely perfect the first time. “You’re gonna walk that stage in a few days, and you’re gonna graduate with our class–”
“Robbie…”
“And you’re going to give a salutatorian speech twice as epic as your student body president speech. You’re going to bring a smile to every student's face and a tear to every parent’s eye.EspeciallySherri’s. You’re going to take pictures with Alice, and you two are going to make up. You’re going to forget whatever happened between the two of you and move on. Because you’re best friends. Because you need each other. Because you’regoodfor each other. And because she loves you just as much as you love her, despite how much of a stubborn pain in the ass you may be about it.”
Cooper breathes out a laugh, shaking her head as she wipes away a tear.
“And then,” I continue, “two weeks after that, you’re going to go to New York–”
“But, I–”
“You’re going to go to New York City,” I say firmly. “And you aren’t gonna think about me for a damn second, Cooper. Do you hear me?”
She chokes on a sob, looking down.
“Cooper, do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” she mutters, “but I’m not listening.”
She looks back up at me, her eyes full of so much emotion that it almost makes me want to take it all back. To beg her to stay. To make her wait for me. But I won’t do that. I’d never do that.
“Robbie, I can’t.”
“You can and you will,” I tell her, and she immediately looks away. “Cooper, please look at me.”
She blinks hard, forcing herself to face me once more.
“Cooper, I know you think I’m everything to you, but you’ve got it so wrong. Because, actually,youare everything tome. You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. In the short time I’ve been with you, you’ve done more for me than I’ve ever done for myself. You’re the dream I never even knew to have. The first thing I’ve truly ever cared about. The only thing I’ve ever worked for. You are the thing about myself that has made me the proudest. You’re the landmark of my existence. Butme?” I shake my head, letting out a scoff. “I’mnothingin the greater picture of what’s gonna beyourlife. I’m barely a blip on the map. I’m a stepping stone to so much more. I’m a memory you look back on in a couple of decades and laugh about.”
“I wish you’d stop talking that way about yourself. Really, it’s killing me.” Cooper looks at me, her voice raw and her eyes finally dry of tears. “Do you remember when you told me that?”
“Of course I remember, Cooper. I’ll always remember,” I tell her, meaning every word of it. “But the difference now is, whatI’msaying is true.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes considering me.
“I peaked in high school,” I say. “But it’s barely even your starting point. So, I’m going to stay here, and you’re going to move on. You’re gonna go on without me. You’re gonna start your life. You’re going to realize your dreams. And you’re going to do something so rad that the whole world will know your name.”
Cooper rolls her lips into her mouth, a single tear slipping from her eye. I watch her as she reaches up, swiping it away, and I can’t help the ghost of a smile that traces my lips. Because something about that tear is different. It’s not a tear of sadness, or desperation, or frustration. It’s a tear of grief. Of acceptance. It’s the type of tear you cry over a change that’s hard, but necessary. The type of tear you cry when you’re scared out of your mind, but you know you’re doing the right thing, and that you need to do it anyway. It’s a tear that I can live with. A tear I’m okay with making her cry, because it means that I haven’t ruined her for good. It means she’s heard me. That she’s going to let me let her go.
“And what about you?” Cooper asks, blowing out a breath. “What are you going to do after sixty days? After you get out of here?”
I glance around the room, taking it all in before I meet her eyes again. “I guess that’s for me to figure out. It’s probably long past due, if I’m being honest.” Cooper tilts her head at me. “I haven’t made any plans for my life,” I say, “so it’s probably good that I’ll have nothing but time for the next couple of months to think about what exactly it is I might want my life to be.”
Cooper traces circles on the glass, her gaze distant and full of thought. After a few moments, she lets out a gentle sigh, her finger pausing its movement. “I hope you figure it out,” she whispers.
I adjust the phone against my ear, flattening my hand against the window over where Cooper’s fingers still rest. She takes notice, her fingers slowly spreading out, her hand flattening perfectly parallel to mine through the glass. “I hope so too,” I breathe.
Cooper’s eyes flick up to meet mine, and I swear the hurt in them looks like lightning crackling throughout the storm clouds. But, through it all, I can see the truth. That I’ve gotten through to her. And that’s all that matters.
“Goodbye, Robbie,” she says.
I pull back, standing up so I can get one more good look at her, smirking involuntarily as I do it, tears welling in the corners of my eyes. “Bye, Sara Beth Cooper.”
She hangs up her phone. And so do I.
Then we let our hands slide down the glass, dropping them back to our sides.
