Chapter 25
THE DINOSAURS THOUGHT THEY HAD TIME TOO.
That’s what’s plastered in big green letters on the bumper sticker of Kaity’s white Chevy.
It stares me down as I follow her to the nail salon and park on the nearest side street.
I’ve been thinking of getting one too, because in fact, they did not have time.
Sort of like us if we aren’t careful. Plus, my car is a heap of trash.
“I love that—” I start when her door opens, but she’s already talking. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“I should do something Christmassy, right?” Kaitlynn asks again. She’s been super indecisive since lunch. It was one of those last-minute decisions. Getting Julieta on the same schedule wasn’t working after all, so we just said never mind and came right after classes let out.
“Yes!” I say. I’ve known what I’m getting since she brought it up early, but like always it’s a huge ordeal for her to make up her mind. Inside, we wait half an hour before they call us back. Apparently, Monday is a more popular manicure day than I thought.
“Have you decided finally?” I ask.
Kaitlynn takes the seat next to me and puts her hands out, fingers spread wide, and wiggles them.
“I think. Yeah, I know,” she says, and then turns her attention to the dark-haired nail tech. “I want a mix. I want these to be bright Christmas red. These the same color but with a white dot at the top. And the others like candy canes.”
Candy canes? That’s going to be intense.
“And you?” my nail tech asks.
“Can I get a steel gray on my pinky, thumb, and pointer fingers? And then dark dark gray on my middle finger,” I say, pointing to each finger. “And the same color on this one, but with a big snowflake surrounded by small ones?”
“Ah, that’s going to be cute,” Kaitlynn whines.
“No copying!” I tell her.
I don’t mind matching, but if we’re going to do that, I want it to be planned and for a reason. She’s done it a few times after I came out, and it’s just weird.
“Fine,” Kaitlynn grumbles.
The nail techs start filing and I do my usual: look awkwardly in any direction other than at them while they’re holding my hand and cutting my cuticles back.
It’s the only reason I would do my own nails if I had the coordination.
It feels odd, sitting here with some random person holding my hand.
Like, I know they’re doing their job, they’re making art of my nails, and that’s it, but still.
I asked Kaitlynn if she felt the same after my first manicure and she thought I was insane.
I try to focus on the TV in the corner. Some old show is playing silently with the black and white letterbox captions at the bottom.
My eyes aren’t that good, even if I were wearing the glasses I almost never wear, to read them this far away though.
It doesn’t work anyway. My head can’t let go of the awkwardness.
It's no different now after tons of them. The woman carves away at my nail. Her fingers are wrapped around mine, moving them about where she needs, and all I can do is cringe that I’m holding someone’s hand.
There’s only one hand that hasn’t given me the heebie-jeebies.
Zachary’s. The one hand I shouldn’t want but for some reason I do, even though he pulled a douche move and showed up to dinner last night with Hayden. Like who does that?
My phone vibrates, but I’m stuck with one hand dunked inside a bag of questionable-looking liquid while the other’s in this woman’s firm grasp with clippers traveling from finger to finger.
It’s just one vibration. A text. Why do I want to see it now more than normal?
Just because I can’t. It’s always that way.
It’s what I can’t have that I want the most. Like Hayden was.
“What you doing after this?” Kaitlynn asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. My paper was done and handed in on Friday, so I don’t have that to stress me out anymore, just everything else.
I’d thought about going home and making Mom watch more Evil Lives Here with me.
It’s this show I found about families of murderers and serial killers and growing up with them.
It’s intense sometimes. “Probably just watching some TV.”
“Lucky,” she huffs.
“Poor Kaity,” I jest. “Gotta work a little.”
“If my hands were free, I’d show you a finger right now,” Kaitlynn says, then lowers her voice to a whisper, “bitch.”
I laugh, which I don’t think makes my nail tech the happiest because it causes my fingers to shake.
“Dry,” my nail tech says, and motions to the UV lamp machine in front of me.
I put my hand in while she starts the next layer on my other hand.
I watch the number tick away, counting down to when my hand is free long enough to check my phone.
It blinks down to zero and I pull my hand out and steal my phone from my pocket.
The name accompanying the single text on the screen sends a flurry of mixed emotions through my head.
ZACHARY: You work tonight?
Huh? Why do you want to know?
MACKENZIE: No. Why?
MACKENZIE: I’ll be there a little later though.
My second text is sort of like the I’m sorry, that wasn’t meant to sound short and mean message after feeling too snippy about it. I really do need to stop talking to him, but how do I get that across?
ZACHARY: Just wondering.
ZACHARY: Oh, you’re there now?
Where did he get that?
MACKENZIE: No. I’m getting my nails done now. LATER.
ZACHARY: OH! Gotcha. The nail place in downtown?
To confirm or not. I stare at the text a few seconds, but the nail tech nudges me.
“You ready for the next layer?” they ask.
“Yeah, sorry!” I say, and quickly type out a response. “Got distracted.”
MACKENZIE: Yes.
I hit send and lay my phone on the counter next to me.
“Who was that?” Kaitlynn asks.
“Zach.” I roll my eyes.
Kaitlynn’s lifted brows and kissy lips say it all.
“Stop it!” I tell her again. It’s never-ending lately.
“What’d he want?” she asks.
“He…” I drift off. What did he want? “I don’t know. He didn’t actually say.”
“I bet I know what he wants.” She sticks out her tongue and wiggles it around suggestively. “He’s hungry.”
“Oh my gods, Kaity! Stop!” I yelp.
Not in public! And no! That’s not what he wants. I mean I don’t think so. Sometimes I do think she lives to embarrass me publicly.
She grunts, happy with herself. “You know you want it.”
“I mean…” I shrug. There’s no use in denying that. “Generally speaking, not from him.”
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I try to ignore her until my nails are done. She’s getting new acrylics, which take way longer than mine. So as usual, I’m waiting while she’s got her hands under the dryer.
“This takes forever,” I complain.
“Calm down.” Kaitlynn thoughtlessly yanks her hand out from under the light and brushes me off.
“Get that hand back under there,” I chide her, and she shoves her hands under the machine. “You close tonight?”
“I get off at eight. Landon and Dawn close,” she says, and pulls her hands back, checking them. “And we’re dry.”
“Finally!” I gasp. “If you want to come over and watch TV when you get off, you can.”
“Maybe,” she says, and we get up and head for the door. “I’ll have to see how tired I am.”
“You work at a coffee shop. How tired could you get?” I ask.
“Eh,” Kaitlynn says, and follows me outside. She stops and laughs, but she’s not looking at me.
I turn around and Zachary’s getting out of his car. Seriously? What is that important?
“Well…” Kaitlynn smacks her lips. “I would stay and see what’s about to happen, but I have to work.”
“Of course you do,” I say, and before I can complain more, she’s at her car, swinging around, and waving.
“See you tonight, maybe,” she yells and then slings her voice toward Zachary. “Hey, Zach. Bye, Zach.”
“Bye, Kaitlynn,” Zach yells over the car roofs, and steps onto the curb a foot or two in front of me. “And hello, Mack.”
“Hey.” I try a fake grin, but I’m smiling before I can do anything about it.
“So. I just needed to talk to you. Text didn’t seem best,” he says.
“Okay.” I string out the O sound. That seems suspicious.
Zachary twists from side to side, twiddling his fingers together. He doesn’t seem able to look me in the eye. Oh no! No, Zach! Don’t bring the haunted house back up. I do not need to talk about the kiss. I can’t. We can’t! I’m about to blurt it when he finally smiles, all nerves, and speaks.
“I don’t know how exactly to say this, but I think you should know,” Zachary says. My nerves prick at the edge of my skin, sending my invisible arm hairs into high alert. Just stop. “Hayden’s having a hard time with…this.”
“This?” My head bounces back reflexively. What?
“You and him. Uh… Apparently there was, uh…someone else he remembers. He didn’t give me details, but…i-it’s another guy, but he can’t remember you two…” He stops and scratches the back of his neck, and his mouth twitches. “You know…dating.”
My teeth grind together harder with each word coming from Zachary’s mouth. Someone else. I’m in so much trouble.
“He’s trying to trust the doctor and you, and us, but he’s confused. He really doesn’t want to hurt you.”
Hurt me? But I…I’m the one who…
My mind sputters out of control like some car on its last makeshift trip.
He doesn’t want to hurt me? I’m the one who needs to come clean, but he’s worrying that he might hurt me?
But he knows it’s not real, or at least he’s catching on.
Wait! Or is he? Gods, this just feels worse and worse every single day.
“I, uh…” I don’t know what to say, but why? My eyes fix on Zachary. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you should know, right?” he says.
“Isn’t that Hayden’s decision to make?” I angle my chin up at him. “Did he tell you to talk to me?”
“No…” Zachary swallows. “But if you’re not—”
“If I’m not what?” I interrupt with a bite in my words.
“Uh…I don’t want to press, but if you weren’t really dating him before, you can tell me.” He bows his head, and I swear his body flinches.
Does he really think that again, or is it something else?
I’m not sits at the tip of my tongue. It’s ready to spew out, but I hold it back.
I want this to be done, but if it’s done, how does it all end?
Hayden. Zachary. Mr. and Mrs. Marcus. Holly.
Eliza and Catina. Gramps and Kiki. Super Old Gran.
Surely they’ll hate me. I know what I should do, but I can’t do it.
Instead, I lock my knees in place and go on the offensive.
“This is about us, isn’t it? We kissed. Yeah!
I know. It doesn’t mean I like you, Zachary!
” I lie, and part of me somewhere deep inside shatters with each word.
I hurts, but how can I be honest with him right now?
“It didn’t mean anything. You don’t have to go trying to ruin what Hayden and I have! ”
My heart is breaking. I can feel what’s left of it throbbing like it’s about to rise up my throat and scream for him to hold me. But I can’t allow that because I’ve gone too far. Instead I’m left clamping my jaw tightly to hold back the sob building in my lungs.
“But…that’s not it!” Zachary’s eyes morph from realization to fear.
“Is it not? You want us to break up!” I raise my voice. I blame him. All to keep myself from breaking in front of him, but my voice still starts to shake. “You think that’s going to win me over?”
“I…” he whispers. “No! I didn’t mean—”
He stops as I stare back, my face stricken in faux anger while my heart breaks into a thousand pieces over and over again. It’s like a hammer crashing against a spike, impaling my hardened heart again and again, but still I hold the truth inside.
“I j-just… I thought you should know. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you. I’m… He’s scared, Mack,” Zachary tries. “And I don’t want you getting hurt either.”
“Stop calling me that!” I yell. “No one calls me Mack.”
His eyes are full of confusion, entrenched in sadness. And is that…a tear? No, Zach. Don’t do this to me. I clamp my jaw. I want to wipe it away, but I’m the cause. It’s my words that have put him in this place. My arms start to tremble. It’s just a name. Why did I have to react like that?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Zachary’s eyes drop away with his words, drifting somewhere along the sidewalk.
I break my gaze as well. I can’t continue.
“Yeah, I-I’m sorry,” he says again and turns around.
“Zach,” I call after him. I want him to stop. I want to confess everything to him and tell him not to leave. To stay here with me, but I can’t.
“Yeah?” He stops.
“I… Nothing,” I snap.
What the hell is wrong with me? My body starts to quake. If I don’t get out of here soon, he’s going to see me break down, and I’m not letting that happen. I refuse. Without another word, I sprint down the sidewalk and jump in my car without looking back.
My head drops to the steering wheel, and I fall apart. Floods burst from my eyes, dripping on the wheel while my hands squeeze it tight. I try to shake it, but it’s me that gets yanked around as I scream and strangle the steering wheel.
“Why?!” I yell between sobs and the flashes of Zachary’s face.
The dim glow of my flashlight on his cheek in an empty and abandoned home.
The campfire reflecting in his eyes. The way his dimples moved when he smiled during my story.
Sweaty, playing basketball. The way his steel eyes fluttered shut as he moved in to kiss me in the near pitch dark.
The burst of life that he gave me. The flame I just dumped a barrel of water on.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”