32. Booker
Booker
She doesn’t look good.
I mean, she’s always beautiful, but she has dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks are gaunt, and she looks like she’s lost weight—weight she didn’t need to lose.
Her eyes have lost their shine, and her perfect smile is nowhere to be seen.
And it’s all my fucking fault.
As I approach her in the parking lot, it’s all I can do to keep reminding myself that this is for the best; she doesn’t deserve to be caught up in my abysmal life.
I make my way to the trunk of the Camaro, depositing both the case of water and the case of beer I bought.
Once my hands are free, Maya silently hands me my clothes, and I have to resist the urge to bring them up to my nose and find out if they smell like her.
She turns, as if she’s going to walk away without saying anything, and I can’t bear it. “Maya…are you okay?”
Her shoulders stiffen, and I know it’s a stupid question. Neither of us is alright. None of the thing’s I’ve put her through is okay, but I don’t know any other way to keep her safe.
“No, Jamie, I don’t think I’m okay. But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
My heart catches in my throat, and I can’t meet her cold gaze. I don’t have a response to that, because she’s right. I need her to be upset with me, need her to keep her distance.
“Who was she? No one? Another girl on your roster? Do you even remember her name?” Maya’s turned fully back to face me now, eyes blazing, mouth set in a firm, enraged line.
“I don’t understand how you can have been through all that you have—all the things Ross put you through—and still bounce from girl to girl like they’re nothing. ”
“I don’t—” I cut myself off, trying to keep my voice level. “I don’t treat girls like they’re nothing. I have never treated anyone like that.”
“Then what do you call the way you’ve treated me?”
We stare at each other in an all encompassing, suffocating silence.
My chest aches—no, this is worse than an ache. The sharp, stabbing, wrenching knife of guilt is buried so far in my chest that I know there’s no coming back from the wound it’s caused.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, because it’s all I know to say. I’m sorry for hurting her again. I’m sorry for having to betray her trust. I’m sorry Ross got his slimy fingers into our budding relationship and shredded it to pieces.
“Who was she?” Maya repeats, and I’m surprised she genuinely wants an answer—that the question wasn’t a rhetorical one.
“Her name’s Claire. We met a few years ago at a festival, and she just got back from traveling abroad.”
“So you invited her to the same party you invited me to?” she continues querying.
I shake my head. “No, she…she wanted to surprise me.”
Maya pauses at this, and I can’t tell if my answer helped my case or made her more upset.
“You’re close enough with her that she comes for surprise visits?”
“She’s…” I toss up my hands, at a loss for words about how to proceed with this conversation. Claire means nothing to me romantically; I didn’t want to spend my time with anyone but Maya. But I also did what I thought I had to do, and I can’t take it back.
“She’s a friend,” I decide to say.
“A friend you spend time with. A friend you post photos with. A friend you bring up to your room for privacy during a party. But I’m not that kind of friend, right?
I’m the kind of friend you avoid, the kind of friend you hide from.
I’m the friend you—what?—fuck when it’s convenient?
Because I’m not good enough to be with you for real? ”
“No…Fuck, it’s not like that, and you know it,” I let out, failing to hold back any more. I can’t listen to her talk about herself like this.
“Claire is just a friend. I was letting her use my bathroom. We hooked up once, two—three?—years ago, and stayed friends. She doesn’t do relationships, and I don’t want to be in one with her. But you…you are everything to me, and that’s the problem.”
My breaths come out heavy, labored. “I need you to hate me, Maya. I need you to hate me and want to stay away from me, because I don’t have the strength to keep staying away from you.
I don’t want to treat you like you’re nothing.
But I can’t let him near you. And if he knows how much you mean to me, he will hurt you. ”
Tears sit in the rim Maya’s usually-warm chocolate eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. “I told you I wasn’t afraid of him,” she whispers.
“Well I am! I’m terrified of him—of what he can do and get away with—and I won’t risk you, Maya. So, go ahead and hate me; at least you’ll be safe.”
She’s silent for so long, and I think I’ve finally succeeded in driving the final nail in the coffin of our relationship. She’s staring, eyes unfocused, fighting back the anguish and rage I’m causing her.
But then something in her gaze shifts, and she cocks her head toward the trunk of my car. Her arm snakes out, as if in a trance, picking up one of my skates that’s fallen out of my unzipped duffel.
Delicate fingers brush over the laces, reverently, as she realized what’s tied to the strings.
A faded, torn, tattered braided bracelet.
Her sharp gaze meets mine once more, accusation and grief clenched in the set of her jaw.
“How long has this been here?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
I swallow, fighting back tears of my own now, forcing the truth around the lump in my throat.
“Since the day my wrist outgrew it.”
Maya takes in a deep, shaky breathe, her hands trembling slightly.
“You kept some ratty little bracelet I gave you over a decade ago, tied to your skate, and yet you’re going to stand here and tell me you don’t want to be with me?
” Her voice rises with every word; disbelief and indignation breaking through her sadness.
“You’ve held onto this—onto me—for thirteen years, you came back to this town, to this school and my father’s team, and you’re going to stand here and pretend it means nothing?
No. Fuck that. You are many things, Jameson Booker, but you aren’t a coward. ”
“I…” My voice is gravelly, low and ashamed. “I just don’t know what to do, Maya.”
“What if we kept it a secret?”
“What?” I rear my head back, nearly hitting it on the still open trunk of my car.
“If what you’re saying is true—if I mean everything to you and you aren’t with other girls and you only did what you did to push me away, then keep me a secret from Ross.
I won’t go with you in April. You keep doing what you’re doing and he won’t know you’re with me.
And we can try to come up with another plan long term. ”
Tears threaten spill down her cheeks from frustration—and I can’t believe she’s willing to give me another chance, after everything. Reaching out with both hands, I cup her face and wipe under her eyes with my thumbs.
“Hey, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” I pull her face to my chest, wrapping her in a hug and hating how much smaller she feels than the last time I held her.
“I get it, I do. He’s a scary and powerful man, but I can’t let him take this from us. He’s taken enough from you, and I can’t let him win.” Maya’s breaths even out, and she pulls away slightly to lock those deep brown eyes with mine.
“Maya…you don’t know the things I’ve seen him do. If he finds out…”
“He won’t.” She pulls out of my arms, looking around the parking lot like someone with a camera is hiding between vehicles at this very moment.
“We can be careful. I forgave you before, Jamie, and I’ll forgive you again.
As mad as I am, it’s not all anger toward you.
It’s anger at your father and your situation.
But we will find another way. Together.”
“You’re serious? After…after everything, you want to be my secret…girlfriend? That makes me feel—I don’t know—that makes me feel dirty, Maya.”
“I would rather be with you in secret than not have you at all.”
The finality, the conviction, in her voice brings my breath up short. Can I really do this? Can I have her and keep her safe at the same time?
“But the running, the hiding from me, the secret keeping, all of that stops. You are not alone, Jamie. People care about you, and want to help, if you’d let them.”
Before I can overthink, I feel myself nod slowly in agreement, knowing I never stood a chance against her. God, I don’t deserve her.
“I mean it, Jamie. No more avoiding me. I won’t chase after you a third time. I’ve given you chance after chance, and while I’m sympathetic to everything you’ve been through, I won’t let it be an excuse to treat me as if I’m disposable.”
“I know, Maya. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I…this is all just foreign territory for me. It’s not an excuse, I’m just acknowledging that I know I need to work on…things.”
“Go to therapy; talk to your friends. They’ve been through difficult situations too, from what I’ve heard, and they don’t let it control their lives.
I want you, I want to be with you, and I want to help you.
But loving someone isn’t a reason to let them hurt you, and I won’t do this again.
Okay? Being empathetic doesn’t mean I’m a pushover.
I have a sense of self-worth, and you’re out of freebies, Jamie Booker. ”
I nod earnestly, but before I can respond to her, I see a bright red head of hair leaving the grocery store. “Dani’s heading over here,” I say, inclining my head in her direction.
“Are you okay if I tell her? And Chloe? They’ll be suspicious if I’m suddenly feeling better.”
“Yeah, I’m okay with that, as long as you’re sure they won’t say anything to anyone.”
“They won’t.” Maya reaches out to squeeze my hand, a smile forming on her lips for the first time in over a month. “I’ll see you later, Jamie.”