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“My bad,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
I know where he’s coming from. My mother was instrumental in keeping us apart. She called shots, and I was young and… I shake the memories away.
“I understand.” I touch his shoulder, his hair rests on my hand. “How?”
“Broken heart. That’s not what the paper says, though.”
Hearing this makes me sad. I liked Mr. Tamez. He never made me feel unwelcome. Unlike how my mother made Josh feel. “I guess he never got over losing your mother.”
Josh’s head jerks up from digging in the bag. He’s got this expression on his face. I think it’s anger. I’m not getting it, and I don’t want to make him feel worse. I know it wasn’t easy growing up without a mom. He goes back to digging in the bag, pulls out a bag of chips, and rips it open with ferocity.
This probably isn’t the right time to bring up our past, but it’s been sitting on me for so long. “Josh.” I put the quarter-eaten sandwich down. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Confession time?” There are remnants of anger still in his eyes.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe first, I guess, I have a question for you. How did you know?”
“About the baby?” His jaw clenches.
A part of me hates that he says,about the babythat way. I think I’d rather he’d said,about being pregnant.
“Yeah, about the baby. How did you know?”
His eyes close a tiny bit, his lids like a hood, protecting him, or protecting the truth. I wonder which.
“Heard a rumor. So is that why?”
“Yes. That’s why.” That’s why I moved away. That’s why I broke up with him in a text. That’s why I ruined my life.
“And the baby?”
He had to ask that didn’t he? Fuck—so much for the New Year’s resolution—I wish he hadn’t. I don’t want to lie, but the truth is harder to live with some days. It makes me feel heartless. But I guess that’s better than making myself feel selfish. I ponder my answer. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to live through stuff like that.”
He nods, but it’s a half-nod, like it’s trying to become a headshake. “They should give the other person a choice in the matter. You know—the father.”
I recoil like I’ve been hit. I know he’s right. But what good does that do now? Nothing. It serves nothing more than making me feel guilty all over again. Plus, at the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. Not with the way things ended. “I know you can’t forgive me for that.”
“Some things are easier to forgive than others.” He shrugs. “I thought we were tight. That you could tell me anything.”
He’s not wrong. But when you’re young and pregnant and your mother threatens to tell your father, you’ll do anything she tells you to keep from disappointing your dad. It’s all about choices. It’s not like he didn’t find out anyway, but I was a lot more naïve back then. “We were tight. It’s just—” I clamp my mouth shut. Tears are threatening to spring to my eyes. Why is this so much harder than I thought it would be?
I get up, turn away from him, go to the window, and look out to avoid looking at him, to avoid Josh seeing what this is doing to me.
I push a dingy curtain aside. A VW Beetle is parked on the street. Red. That can’t be a coincidence. So if that was Billie he was arguing with, then what is this? An exercise in catharsis? A cleansing? For whom? Me or him?
I blow out a breath of captive air and turn his way. “I can’t discuss this.” Not with you, not now. I don’t say those things, though.
Josh takes the lid off his drink. Sweet tea, I’d bet, like it used to be. He chugs half the 32-ouncer in a couple of swigs, then sets the cup down. “Should I take you home now?”
No. You should take me. And take me. And then take me with you. Wherever. Whenever. Forever.“That’s fine.”
He offers me one nod.
A solid, final one, as if he’s saying,So be it.
29
BORROWED T-SHIRTS AND ILL-FITTING BOXERS
