Page 42 of The Way I Used to Be
They both look at me, like I’m supposed to somehow know how to shepherd this mess. When I don’t say anything, Mara takes over: “So, Josh, we were just talking about what we’re gonna do for Edy’s birthday tomorrow.”
“Your birthday’s tomorrow?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
Mara frowns at me. “Edy, you didn’t tell him your birthday’s tomorrow?”
“Yeah,Edymust’ve forgotten to mention it,” Josh answers. “Just likeEdymust’ve forgotten to say good-bye before she snuck out of my house last night,” he says in this way that tells me he’s not going to let it go, not going to just sit back and take it this time.
“Well, um,” Mara begins, uncomfortably, “I guess I probably have somewhere to be, so...” Pause. “I’m gonna go there now. It was great to meet you, really,” she tells Josh with a sweet, sincere smile.
“Yeah, definitely,” he responds, like he genuinely means it.
As she walks away she looks back at me over her shoulder with her lips tight and her eyes wide, and she just points her finger at me, likeYou’d better not fuck this up!
“It was nice to finally meetoneof your friends.”
“So, what are you doing here?” I ask, ignoring his comment.
“You know, I’m really sick of your rules, okay? We need to talk. And we need to talk now.”
“Fine. Can we go somewhere a little more private, at least?” I look around, taking note of all the people watching us.
He takes my hand. I pull away from him involuntarily. He looks at me like he’s hurt, but just holds on tighter, leading us down the hall. We stop in the stairwell and he sits down on one of the steps. I stand more still than I ever have before. I’m scared. Really scared he’s about to leave me. And more scared because I don’t want him to.
“Will you sit?”
My heart and thoughts race, bleeding together in a cacophony of why, why, why? “Why?” I finally say out loud, my shaky voice betraying the look of cool, calm collectedness I’m attempting to secure on my face.
“I told you already. I want to talk. I’m serious.”
I hold my breath as I sit down next to him. He turns to face me, but I interrupt before he can even begin. “Just tell me now—are you trying to end this?”
“No! Not at all. I just—I can’t go on like this. I can’t have this be all there is. We have something more. You have to see that, right?”
“I told you before, I don’t—the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing—I’m not comfortable with—”
“I’m saying thatI’mnot comfortable, Eden!” he interrupts, raising his voice, suddenly upset. Then quieter, “I’m not comfortable with us sleeping together every night and then acting like we don’t even know each other at school. You won’t come out with me and meet my friends. Clearly, you don’t want to introduce me to your friends. We’ve never been anywhere together except my bedroom. I mean, why can’t we at least go to your house sometimes?” He pauses, taking my hand. “Why do I always feel like we’re sneaking around?”
“I don’t know,” I say quietly, feeling so exposed.
“Yes, you do, so just be honest with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is there a reason that we should be sneaking around?” he asks, his real question finally emerging.
“What reason?”
He looks at me like I’m totally dense.
“What, like another person?” I clarify.
“Yeah, like another person.”
I stare at him and wish that I could somehow make him understand everything. Everything that’s happened, everything I think and feel, about him, about me, about us together. How my heart—that stupid, flimsy organ—aches violently for him. But it’s too much for words, so I just utter that one syllable, the one that matters most right now: “No.”
He exhales as if he was holding his breath. Obviously, that was not at all the answer he was expecting. “Then if there’s no one else, why does it have to be like this?”
“I don’t know, because then everything gets complicated and screwed up and—”
