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“You know, it’s weird,” he begins, his voice sincere and solemn. “I feel like in movies it’s always some big sweeping thing that keeps two people apart—cheating, lying, scandals—but you know what’s worse? A million tiny things. How can I conquer a million tiny things?”
He doesn’t have to tell me I’m mostly in the wrong here. I know how badly I hurt him two nights ago when I insinuated that he needed to be hidden from my roommates. I don’t have to imagine how I would have felt if he didn’t want his friends to know about me, if he’d told me I needed to sneak out. Horrible. That’s how I would have felt—absolutely horrible.
“I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, his attention down on the ground. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“The other night…”
Was amazing.
Spectacular.
Life-changing.
“I won’t apologize for it. I can’t pretend it never happened.”
Is that what he thinks I want? To forget about it?
News flash: I’m going to be 99, still kicking it in some retirement home, and you’ll find me regaling everyone in the buffet line about that one time the Grant Navarro put his hand down my pants.
Neither of us speaks as we sit, looking straight ahead, trying to pull a fix out of thin air. What if we… Maybe we aren’t… You and I could…
The silence seems to expand like a gnarly twisted weed I’m ill equipped to fend off.
Then Grant pushes to stand and I think, So that’s it? You’re giving up? His departure will be so subtle. It makes me think of the T.S. Eliot verse: “This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.”
Where’s the fight, Grant? Where’s all that passion now?
“You’re leaving?”
“I need to go. The guys are expecting me. I can walk you back?”
My jaw is clenched so tightly all I can do is shake my head.
He’s about to walk away, just like that. I can’t even look at him. I stare straight ahead, his tall figure shifting out of focus in my periphery, fading to abstract colors as he continues, “The thing is, Tate…just so we’re absolutely clear…I’m dying to be with you. In fact, I would risk it all just to have you. I can’t stop this, whatever it is…but I won’t force it. Not anymore. So figure out what you want.”
Then he’s gone, walking behind the bench, crunching the leaves so that I can track every step as they grow fainter until they finally cut off altogether.
I whip around then, my mouth open, ready to speak, but he’s gone.
I’d like to say realization dawns right then, his ultimatum shaking loose my stubbornness and illuminating everything I’ve been blind to up until this point, but in reality, I still feel like I’m at rock bottom, like there’s no clear way forward. What’s the point of standing up off this park bench and continuing right on with life as if everything is fine when it’s not?
I stare straight ahead, letting my vision turn hazy as people cross in front of me on the path, nothing more than blurry blobs. Then a little boy on a scooter rolls past me, stops, and walks his scooter back to get a second look at me.
“Why are you crying?” he asks, tilting his head. “Did someone hurt you?” He looks around like he might try to apprehend the person himself.
I sniffle and swipe my hand under my nose. “Nope, just a bad day.”
“Oh.” This disappoints him; he really wanted to beat up a bad guy. Now, at a loss for what else to do in this situation, he offers up the only thing he has. “You want to borrow my scooter? It’s my favorite toy and it makes me happy.”
By this point his mom has hurried to catch up to him, shooting me a sympathetic smile. “Marcus, leave her alone.” She mouths an apology as she prods him along.
I shake my head to let her know I didn’t mind him talking to me. Not at all.
Now I’m just alone on the bench again, probably scaring everyone at the park. I could leave, but I’m stuck in limbo. If I stand up, I have to make a decision about how to move forward. I have to decide what I’ll tell Daphne and Sophia when I get home and they see the evidence of my misery smeared all over my face: smudged mascara, swollen eyes, snotty nose. I have to decide if I’m willing to let Grant walk away from me so easily.
Then there’s also Michael.
Ugh…
I’m not even mad at him about the kiss. How could I be?! He’s ten times braver than I’ve ever been. He’s pursued me from the start and managed to survive on mere morsels of my attention. Then when I tried to let him down gently, no! He had the guts to put it all on the line. I hope karma is real and at this very minute he’s colliding with some gorgeous supermodel out on the sidewalk. Oh, and you know what? She has a heart of gold. Yeah, she’s one of those girls who likes all your Instagram posts and always comments encouraging things. “Yes, girl!” “Love the fit!” I hope he runs right smack into her and they laugh it off and he has to brush dirt off her knee and then she says her name is Christine and they’re right by a coffee shop so Michael asks if she wants to go in and he buys her a drink to make up for running into her, and it’s so weird, she was just craving a coffee…
