Chapter Twenty-One #2
Hannah’s voice pulls our attention to the stairs. She stands there at the bottom, her mouth hanging open but no words coming out. Because what would she say? What could she say?
“You,” I say, tears stinging my eyes. “You said you would keep us a secret.”
I grab the trays I brought with me and snatch my phone off the island.
“Clarity, wait!” Hannah shouts, stepping toward me.
I pull the front door open and turn to her. If only there was a way for me to put this whole summer behind me, pretend we don’t go to the same school, pretend we aren’t running the committee, pretend-pretend-pretend my way out of all the lies I’ve been telling…
“You’re unbelievable,” I say, my frustration and fear turning to anger.
Hannah stops and I take her hesitation as an opening to leave.
I set out into the afternoon, the pungent smell of the farm across the street and the crisp air replacing everything that felt good about being at Rowena’s house.
The warmth, the comfort, the seasonal scents that made me feel tethered and happy, give way to the truth—Hannah lied to me.
The one person I could be myself with, the one person I was supposed to be able to trust with anything—
And someone else knows! I don’t know Rowena that well. Sure, she’s Hannah’s best friend. But I can’t trust my own best friend with this secret. Rowena is a complete wild card. I don’t know if she slips up the way Kristen does, if she thinks I’m being unreasonable.
I text my dad to pick me up at the top of Rowena’s street, exhaling with relief at his quick thumbs-up reply. That feeling lasts for all of two seconds as Hannah’s Forester pulls up next to me, driving on the wrong side of the road so that she can roll down her window.
“Get in the car, I can take you home.”
No apology. No attempt to explain how the hell Rowena knows about my sexuality. About our relationship.
“My dad is picking me up.”
“Clarity, come on—”
“No.”
“It’s not like she would tell anyone—”
“I would HOPE SO!” I scream. “I would freaking hope so. It’s not her secret to tell, nor was it yours, Hannah.”
“Clarity, this isn’t fair,” she shouts back, her car inching along beside me.
“Who can I talk to? Am I really supposed to keep this all inside, all the stuff we go through together, all the stuff I go through trying to help you? I can’t talk to you about you, not in a bad way, but that’s just the truth.
And this is a lot, Clarity. I care about you and I’m glad we’re together, but I’ve never been in the closet before and even though I’m out, our relationship has me half in the closet.
It’s a lot of pressure, and I know you’re under more pressure, but—it’s—ugh! ”
I could pull my hair out from how frustrated she’s making me. “Hannah, I trusted you. Regardless of what you think and how you feel about my coming out, I asked you to keep my secret.”
“Clarity, she’s not going to tell anyone. She wouldn’t do that to you, and she wouldn’t do that to me,” she insists.
“I don’t care,” I say, breathless. “I. Do. Not. Care. What. You. Think. Especially now. It’s the fact that she knows. This is for me, me, to decide when and where and how to share it—”
“I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry, Clarity. I am. I’m sorry, and you’re right.”
“If you really believed that, then we wouldn’t be in this situation. So don’t lie,” I hiss, still loud enough for her to hear from her car.
“Do you have any idea what this is like for me?”
“For you?” I repeat, processing the fact that those words just came out of her mouth.
“At camp, it was easy, things were different. All of this, coming home and you wanting nothing to do with me, then changing your mind, then adding a boy to our relationship—this isn’t easy, and it’s not fair of you to expect me to keep it all inside.
I’m sorry for violating your trust, but I only told the number one person I trust on this planet. So please, try to understand…”
“If it’s so hard…” I mumble, not sure I want to finish my thought.
I remember how surprised Hannah was to find out I hadn’t told Kristen anything about her, about our time together over the summer.
She thought, above all else, even after the Incident, that I would still confide in my best friend.
Was I supposed to expect the same from her?
We reach the top of Rowena’s street. Tucked deep in a suburban neighborhood, not a lot of cars come through here on any given day. So even though we’re on the corner at an intersection, there isn’t much chance of a car coming and Hannah having to pull off and leave me alone.
“I’m sorry,” I say, some of my rage dissipating from the effort it took to get up the hill and shout at the same time. “I haven’t thought about what it’s like for you.”
I almost want to ask why she puts up with me.
Why not date anyone else, anyone who is out of the closet, who wouldn’t be holding her back and hurting her like I am.
Someone who can be easy. But a selfish part of me doesn’t want to ask those questions, doesn’t want to risk giving her the idea to walk away. A very selfish, insecure part of me.
I would completely understand, though, if she did give up. Maybe that would be easier.
Hannah slumps over like a deflated airbag, a deep sigh escaping her as if she’s the one out of breath. I kick at some of the fallen leaves on the sidewalk, listening to the hush-aah of the wind washing through the branches overhead.
“My dad is going to pick me up,” I tell her. Guilt wrings my gut when I realize I don’t regret texting him; I don’t regret missing the chance for Hannah and me to have a moment alone. “I will try to understand you telling Rowena, but I’m gonna need a minute to wrap my head around it.”
Hannah watches me, her hazel eyes not meeting mine. “I’ll see you later, then,” she says, nodding more to herself than to me before pulling off.