Chapter Twenty Nine #2
She reached over and opened the window, and a cold breeze came pouring into the humid kitchen.
You couldn’t help wondering how long she’d known.
Was everything you did completely obvious to everyone?
The evening was turning cool, and the wind through the screen gave you goose bumps.
But you managed to walk back to the table and sit down.
Neither of you spoke. So eventually, you cut into what she called a “sarma” with a fork and tried a bite.
It was better than it smelled. Some kind of spiced meat on the inside.
So you had another bite, and before you knew it, you were halfway through the dish.
“This is actually really good,” you said.
“She might have anger problems,” said Diana. “And strange ideas about birth control. But that lady can cook.”
She joined you at the table, shoving a half-finished sudoku out of the way, and looking up at the ceiling. Then before you could get another nervous bite into your mouth, Diana suddenly leaned over the space between you and kissed you on the mouth.
You didn’t move, and unlike every movie you’ve seen, your eyes weren’t closed.
You weren’t sure if you kissed her back, but you didn’t not kiss her back.
And you saw the pained look on her face when your lips detached.
She reached out and put a hand on your cheek, and her palm was still wet from the dishes.
Then she pulled back and looked you in the eye.
“You taste like cabbage,” she said.
And you noticed she was crying.
You set your fork down and sat back in your chair. You reached out and put a hand on her back. Everything had happened so fast, you weren’t sure what to feel yet. This wasn’t exactly how you imagined your first kiss going. Somehow, it never occurred to you that there might be tears.
You stood up then.
“Okay,” you said. “I’m going to guess, based on that reaction, that things are maybe kind of confusing. And that I should go…”
Diana didn’t make eye contact.
“Please give Baba my best,” you said, “and tell her the sarmas were…”
“Don’t go,” she said.
So you stopped.
“I’m worried about Sean,” she said.
You weren’t sure if she meant in general, or what exactly, but you just decided to be honest.
“Me too,” you said.
“He’s got more going on than you think,” she said. “He needs to talk to someone, and I don’t think it can be me.”
You nodded. And immediately the guilt came roaring back. What were you doing here? Diana stood up and faced you.
“Look. I have some complicated feelings for you, Case. I always have. Obviously, I need to think more about that. But I just don’t want to lose you in my life. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah,” you said.
“So can we just forget that happened?”
“I’m probably not going to forget that happened until the day I die,” you said. “But I can pretend.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Zbogom,” you said then, which you were pretty sure was goodbye in Serbian.
“Zbogom,” she said.
You stumbled over the chair and made your way back across the green carpet and out the front door.
A bird feeder slammed into your head as you ran down the stairs, but you barely felt it.
You searched the driveway for snakes, but there weren’t any in sight.
They were all hiding out there somewhere in the dark.
Then you were driving, hitting turn signals by rote and merging without really looking.
Your thoughts were racing along with the car.
And about halfway home, it hit you so hard that you nearly stopped breathing: If you wanted a meaningful relationship with your brother, there was no way anything else could happen with Diana.
The two were mutually exclusive.
Even if it hurt, you had to choose the person you’d known your whole life, the one who had always been there for you, even if he made mistakes.
Maybe, if you talked things through with Sean, you could still be Diana’s friend.
You could tell him that she was important to you, a close friend you didn’t want to lose. Maybe he would understand.
There weren’t many night owls in your neighborhood, so no one was out when you pulled back in the driveway around one A.M. You looked for Sean’s bike but didn’t see it. And when you stepped inside, the house was so quiet, you wondered if anyone was home.
“Where have you been?”
Sean’s voice cut through the dark, and made you jump back, banging your hip on the doorknob. He was sitting on the stairs, sweat dripping down his face.
“Sean,” you said. “When did you get back? I was worried.”
“Were you at her house, Case?” he asked.
You were about to answer him. Honestly, you’d like to think.
But before you could say anything, he flung a notebook across the room at you like a Frisbee.
It hit you in the chest, and you caught it off the ricochet.
For a second, you were so startled you didn’t know what it was or why he’d launched it at you in the dark.
Then you opened it and looked down, and even in the dim light, you saw your own handwriting staring back at you.
You knew then exactly what it was, and you felt a stab of nausea.
It was the letter you wrote to Diana over Christmas break. The one that explained your feelings. The one you thought about giving her, but ultimately kept in this worn-out notebook when you clearly should have thrown it away.
The one your brother must have found.