Page 43 of Lavender and Linebackers

“Here, man. Sorry,” he said, pity shining through his words, as he let it go and turned to go celebrate with his friends.

“Ryder,” Alice called my name, but emotionally, I was too far gone.

All I heard and saw was her telling me no.

The world started to close in on me. I knew I was about to lose my shit, and all I could do was turn and run. I think I heard her call after me again, but my heart was hammering hard as it cracked in half, one tiny piece at a time, and there were so many people. This was an absolute nightmare come true.

It never occurred to me, not one time, that she didn’t feel the same way. That we didn’t have a future. At least not one where there was a me and her and only us forever. Of course, over the years we had close encounters of almost kisses, but we never did. Maybe I should have thought about that harder before I decided it would be a good idea to open up my soul and try to kiss my best friend in front of the entire world and God.

Somehow, I made it home. I know I shouldn’t have been driving, but my heartbreak was almost complete, and I was riding out the numbness. My heart was almost done being cleaved in two, and I had to be at home when the pain hit. Had to.

In front of me, my plate is placed, and the sound against the wood pulls me back into my mother’s dining room. For so long, I’ve kept those memories in a box. They aren’t ones I want to revisit. Ever. And I seal it up tight again.

I pick up my fork to take a bite. “It’s not going because she hates me.”

“I doubt that. That girl has loved you her whole life.”

My fork pauses, and I look over at her.

“You seem to forget that if she loved me, then we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

My mother frowns, as deep sadness moves into the lines around her eyes and her mouth. “I don’t know. Looking back, I think I gave you the wrong advice.”

Oh no. She is not putting the demise and nonexistence of my relationship with Alice on her shoulders.

“No, you didn’t. Leaving was exactly what I needed to do. You of all people know this.”

“Is it, though? I was hurt for you, devastated. I had never seen you like that before, and I went into fight-or-flight mode. I should have taken a step back and looked at the whole picture.”

“The whole picture is that she told me no. Not hang on, not wait a minute, not can we talk about this first, just no. In fact, she told me twice.”

I take a bite of the food, but this conversation makes it hard for me to taste it.

She leans back in her chair. “You know, I checked on her after you left?”

“You did? Why?”

She holds her hands out. “Maybe because I loved her like she was my own daughter. She was a part of our family for a long time.”

“And?” I set down the fork. Apparently, she’s not going to eat until we have this talk.

“Her mom thought it would be best if I didn’t reach out and if I left her alone. While they were appreciative, I needed to let things lie. She took you leaving pretty hard.”

I snort. “I don’t know about that. Maybe because we had been friends for such a long time, but I’m not really sure what she had to be upset about.”

She didn’t want me in the way I wanted her so badly. Being friends was never going to happen. I couldn’t go off to college, have her go off to college, and then hear all about it. I didn’t want to hear the stories. I didn’t want to look at pictures of all the fun she was having with other people, or see her with other guys. Any progress I would have made trying to move on, I would have been sucked right back into the black hole of misery.

“I saw her before she left for school.”

My fingers grip the napkin in my lap as I wait for her to continue. Her expression is melancholy, and I’m taken aback.

“And?”

“She didn’t look good.”

“What does that mean?”

“Obviously, I don’t know if something was medically wrong with her, but she had lost a lot of weight. Her face was gaunt, pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she needed to eat a whole pizza and sleep for two days.”