Page 111 of It Couldn't Be You
I went into my room and closed the door on him. We didn’t play songs that night. It was completely quiet.
Thirty-Nine
The night of my twenty-first birthday, after Gabriel drove away from my dorms, I fell asleep in a tipsy, happy little ball on my bed. My phone was left unplugged on my nightstand. I woke up the next morning with a headache and a dead phone. I plugged it in and washed my face, drank two big bottles of water.
I kept touching my lips thinking, Gabriel kissed these.
Oh my gosh. We. Kissed. Last. Night.
I crawled back into my bed, blanket over my head. I kept thinking about Gabe pushing my back against the car, lips on mine. I thought about us side by side at the bar, voices low, in our own little world and he looked at me. I still had the shivers down my spine.
Oh my gosh. We ditched everyone last night. It felt rarified. It felt cozy. It felt like last night Gabe just wanted to see me. I could’ve passed out at that very thought. Since I always felt that way about Gabe.
I remembered my phone on my nightstand, finally back to life. The lock screen showed there was a message from Gabriel. I dropped my phone like it was on fire.
Instead of reading it, I put on a show and tried to think of anything but any of the serious aftermath that came from a night from, oh my gosh, kissing Gabriel. I wanted to live in the bubble where there was just the flirting, the streetlamps, and the teasing me about my order. What if he regretted it? What if it was a pity birthday kiss? What if I misunderstood it all?
Other fears rushed in. What if he wanted us to date, but Katie got mad at me, Linda didn’t like me anymore, or things got weird at the Hernandez home like they always did when one of them brought in a new significant other? All the tiptoeing, snickering, and waiting-to-see-what-happens.
Admittedly, my heart swelled at the idea of the two of us… If I got that job in California by him, and then we had good night texts, dinners just us two, more kissing, and long talks about our days—that’s the stuff of dreams.
But then the reality hit me. What if I didn’t get the job in California and we failed at long distance? Or he broke it off because his life was moving on, and I couldn’t keep up. Or he because he was in California and I was in Texas, and he met someone else.
For so long, being with Gabriel had been a fantasy I could never attain. I had never thought beyond the want to the reality, to the dark underbelly of what if.
Finally, I opened the message from him.
Gabriel
Emma, last night was one of the best nights. I feel like we need more nights like that. More nights just the two of us. I have to confess I’ve felt more than friendly for you for a while—I feel like there’s something there between us. I think we owe it to ourselves to do something about it. Give it a shot. What do you think? What do you want to do? You can take some time to think it through. I know you have a lot coming up this semester. I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it. I just really liked last night.
I reread that message hundreds of times. Over the next several days, I crafted a variety of replies in my head, telling him yes, I wanted to give us a shot. Telling him no. Telling him maybe. Asking what we would do if I didn’t get the job and I had to work somewhere else. Apologizing for the late response and requesting more time. I kept putting it off, telling myself he said to take my time, so it was okay. Weeks passed. Until I took too much time, and I realized it was too late.
Then, I was sick with anxiety over my lack of reply. I decided he probably hated me, and I’d lost him. I’d hurt him. Not only had I not replied to him, but we hadn’t spoken since the night of my birthday at all. No calls, no messages, not even social media interaction.
But then holiday break came. We were both back home when I next saw him, and he didn’t mention the message. It felt like old times.
It wasn’t the response I was expecting. It was almost worse. Was he over me? Did he not care? Did I imagine it all bigger than it was? Maybe I had read the message in an intense tone, but he had actually sent it in a casual one. We were just old pals who had gotten too busy to talk, it seemed.
I had been expecting the next time we spoke, we’d discuss the kiss and the message. As nervous as I was to talk about it, I think I was waiting for it. When it didn’t happen, it was like a balloon popping and deflating. All this pent-up emotion, expectation, curiosity, and hope falling flat.
We kind of started talking again here and there after the holidays. He’d check in on my job hunt. I’d comment on something of his I read. Social media back and forth revived. So we weren’t doing this. We’d avoided a big mess, mutually. I didn’t text him back; he didn’t bring it up. This was an “us” decision. Or indecision.
I didn’t get the job in California, and another little balloon of hope popped. Even fate agreed with us that this shouldn’t happen. I moved back home. Jordan invited me to dinner. From what I heard, Gabriel was dating people, too.
I assumed, irrationally and selfishly, that he probably hadn’t even really meant what he said to me the day after my birthday. He meant it casually or something. Maybe I imagined it all to be more than it was. Maybe he’d forgotten he ever sent that message. I decided to forget it, too.
I settled on watching his life unfold from afar. I curled up in my bed in my little town, tucked into my covers, reading his writings, scrolling through photos of travels, and reading comments from his seemingly impossibly cool and beautiful friends. I caught everything his family said about him at every turn. I ached and wondered about his lack of trips back home.
Somehow, in my mind, he turned into the one who broke my heart. The one who left me behind. The one I couldn’t keep up with, always off by one message.
Forty
It was all a blur the next morning. We took a car to the airport but didn’t speak much, only communicating whatever was essential. We kept our eyes looking out the car window. I felt like a raw nerve, permanently holding back tears.
Our flight was actually running early—something I didn’t even know happened—so we rushed through baggage claim and security. Racing down the airport, our bags flopped against us until we barely made it onto our plane before takeoff.
We were out of breath as we scanned the plane for our seats, realizing that this time around, our seats were side by side. Even with all the awkwardness between us, I couldn’t help but feel a little surge of gratitude that we were together, at least for a little bit longer.
