Chapter 20 #2
“Yes, exactly. We’re truly sorry to disturb you, but Avery and I were just studying for our next calculus test when she mentioned that she was sad to not see you guys over Thanksgiving break because you were visiting Braden at MIT.
So I suggested we bring you a plate of Avery’s amazing chocolate-chip cookies and ask how your trip went? ”
Mrs. Patel’s smile collapses a little and her eyebrows crinkle in confusion. Her dark brown eyes, so similar to Braden’s, flick from Jake’s face to mine, then back again.
“We didn’t go to MIT. Why would we go there? We went on a cruise.”
Despite my mental hype session telling myself to be calm and get the answers I need, I take the biggest, loudest gasp. Everyone looks at me.
“Braden said you went to visit him,” I breathe. The tremor in my voice is impossible to miss, and a quick throat-clear does little to rein it all back in.
Now her head is shaking in addition to the furrowed brows. “If we wanted to see Braden, we’d have to find him wherever he is in Europe.” She scoffs in disgust. “He’s finding himself while backpacking like a homeless person with strangers.”
“WHAT!” I yell. Yep, my cool is completely gone.
Her face looks bewildered, and it’s her turn to gasp loudly. “He didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head so violently the plate of cookies in my hands threatens to topple. Jake takes it from me and passes it to Mrs. Patel, who barely glances at the plate while she takes it. Her eyes are fixed on my face with confusion and pity.
“My idiot son.” She—I assume—curses in Hindi briefly before continuing.
“Back in August, two days before college was due to start, he came to us and said he couldn’t and wouldn’t go.
We were horrified and shocked, but supported him if he wanted to take a gap year at home while working before deciding his path at college.
But no. No! He said he wanted to ‘self-realize’ and ‘explore the world’ and booked a one-way ticket to Paris.
I had thought, we assumed… oh, Avery. I thought he broke up with you before he left. He didn’t?”
Tears cascade down her brown cheeks. She uncovers the cookies and hands one to me.
I take it gratefully and bite into it slowly, but the effort of lifting my hand is almost too much.
The sweetness of chocolate chips seems at odds with the bitter news she just hammered me with.
Braden—my Braden—the boy with the chocolate eyes and the sweet smile who has been my best friend since sixth grade, lied to me. For months!
Jake reaches up and grabs the back of my neck and gives me a gentle squeeze. I lean into him and try to enjoy the rest of the cookie, but I can barely taste it.
“He’s been telling me he’s at MIT all this time,” I confess, but my voice comes out broken.
She curses in Hindi again.
The tears are building but I push through. “I’ve been confused because it almost seemed like he was ghosting me sometimes, but then other times we’d talk or text. But then I kept hearing about this girl, Tricia. I don’t know what to think!”
Mrs. Patel scoffs again, then turns slightly to set the cookies on an entryway table. She steps closer to me and looks deeply into my eyes while she holds my forearms. Though her touch is soft, it feels like she’s single-handedly holding me together.
“Avery, I’ve known you since you were little.
You’re an amazing girl with a bright future!
I love my son, but he’s lost his way.” She pauses briefly as her eyes water once more.
“Don’t put your life on hold for him. Maybe your paths will cross in the future, maybe not.
But speaking as one woman to another, do not wait for him. ”
A sob rips through me, tears finally falling in a sudden torrent. Mrs. Patel, the woman who sometimes felt like a second mother to me, pulls me in for a hug and pats me comfortingly. “Shhh,” she says while we rock back and forth.
We hold there for a while. It could be a minute or an hour. It’s hard to tell when your heart is being ripped into a million pieces and then scattered across the universe.
My entire relationship with Braden flashes behind my eyes—from playing together on the playground to studying in the library for our SATs.
I remember everything about him: how his whole body shakes when he laughs, the way his thick eyelashes curl, his love for flip-flops.
Does he remember everything about me? Does he even care?
My phone buzzes in my pocket, ripping me back to the present. It has to be my mom saying she’s almost home with my dad. That can’t be ignored.
I pull back and attempt to smile, but… I can’t. “Thank you, Mrs. Patel—for the truth. I thought I was losing my mind.”
She gives me one last sad look, then turns her gaze to Jake. “You’re a good boy. Take care of our girl here, Mr. Taylor.”
“I will,” Jake replies seriously.
For the moment, I ignore the feelings of annoyance over their little aside. I don’t need Jake or anyone else to “take care of me,” but I do need to get home ASAP. Whether or not it’s another disaster waiting for me, I have no choice.
“I have to go. Thanks again, Mrs. Patel.”
“Anytime, sweetie.”
The door closes softly as we walk down the concrete walkway back to the sidewalk. My phone buzzes again and somehow I find the strength to pull it out to see my mom’s text—home in 5 minutes.
Five minutes. That’s barely enough time to catch my breath.