Chapter 13
Griffin
“Griffin, you need to get out of the house.”
I roll over to face my dad, who’s standing in my bedroom doorway with a severe look on his face that tells me he means business.
“What?”
“I mean it, son. You haven’t left this room all summer. Get your ass up and go get some fresh air.” His face softens, and he continues in a gentler tone, “Now listen here, I’ve been giving you your privacy, but don’t think I haven’t noticed how quiet the house has been.”
I stare at him blankly, waiting for him to make his point so I can get back to staring at nothing.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that you boys have been friends long enough to figure it out. You need to apologize, or forgive–or both, I don’t know the story here.”
For a second I think he might let me off the hook about Eleanor, but no such luck.
“I would also strongly recommend you patch things up with that young lady,” he says, pointing his finger at me. “She’s a darling, and you need to fix whatever you did.”
“What makes you think I’m the one who did something?”
Leaning against the door frame, he crosses his arms with a raise of his brows, and he’s obviously right, so I just nod.
“Good boy,” he says. Pushing off the door frame, he walks over to my bed and ruffles my hair like he used to do when I was small.
I feel pretty small right now.
“You’re a good man, Griff, and I–” he hesitates, clearing his throat. “I’m not good with the touchy-feely stuff, but I’m proud of you.”
With a final pat on my shoulder, he walks out of my room, leaving me feeling even worse.
He shouldn’t be proud of me. I have royally fucked everything up. I’m ignoring David’s texts, Eleanor is ignoring mine, and Jack said he won’t come over until I’m willing to talk about it.
I push myself up with a groan, and sit on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to patch things up with Eleanor, but my dad’s right–there’s at least one thing I can fix.
***
I ring the doorbell and wait nervously on David’s front porch. I don’t know if I’ve ever rang the doorbell. I usually just let myself in with the key I’ve had for almost ten years.
“Griffin! Hi!”
David’s mom, Victoria, looks at me with wide eyes, her mouth open in a surprised O.
“David didn’t tell me you were back in town! How was your trip?”
My trip…?
She steps aside, and it hits me once I’m inside.
I guess I’m not the only one who’s not talking about this.
“Um, yeah, it was great,” I respond, trying to sound like I definitely know what she’s talking about. “We got back a day early, I figured I’d just come over instead of calling.”
“Well, it sure is good to see your face,” she says warmly, patting my cheek. “David’s upstairs in his room”
I head upstairs, my thoughts working overtime to figure out what exactly I should say here. And how I should say it–I viscerally cringe at the thought of another shouting match.
His door is open, but he’s got his headphones on, laser focused on his computer. I knock on the door to get his attention, and when he looks up at me his laptop falls to the floor.
“Ah, shit,” he curses under his breath, leaning over to pick it up and knocking everything off his bedside table in the process.
I let out a snort of laughter, and sit in the chair at his desk. Once he gets all his stuff back where it belongs, he looks up at me and I can hardly recognize him.
Shit, he looks terrified. Was I that bad?
I don’t bother answering my own question–I know I was.
“Hey man,” I say in a low voice. “How’ve you been?”
Still looking like he’s scared I’m going to deck him, he swallows before answering, “Uh, okay I guess. I told my mom you were out of town, sorry if you had to explain that.”
“Yeah, she mentioned that.”
After a few beats of awkward silence, we both start at the same time.“Listen man–”
“Bro I–”
He smiles at me sheepishly, and I gesture at him to go first.
“Dude, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
In all our years of friendship, I’ve never heard him sound so dejected. I expected my anger to come back in full force when I saw him again, but instead it completely evaporates at the look of shame on his face.
It hits me how much I miss my friend, and I realize I don’t even need the apology anymore.
“Hey, man, we all fuck up. Remember when I hit that baseball straight through your living room window and knocked over your grandma’s ashes?”
He lets out a low chuckle. “And then my mom made us go to the church to confess our sins even though you aren’t Catholic, and our priest told her it doesn’t count if she forced us to be there.”
All at once, everything feels normal again. It was a lot easier to be mad at David than at myself, but every ounce of animosity fades as we spend the next few hours catching up.
“So,” he looks up at me, looking nervous again. “Have you talked to her?”
“Nope,” I say with a heavy sigh. “I think Jack has, but he’s not talking to me right now either.”
His eyes widen. “Dude, why not?”
“He told me he wouldn’t hang out with me unless I either made up with you or talked about my feelings,” I say with a shrug. “Both options made me want to shove chopsticks through my eyes, so I’ve just been moping in my room.”
“I’m glad you came over, Griffin,” he says in an uncharacteristically serious tone. “This whole thing has been such a shitshow, I’ve felt like ass for weeks.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say, suddenly feeling exhausted by the weight of the whole ordeal. “I’m sorry I lost my shit on you.”
“I’m sorry I messed things up for you with Ellie.”
Understatement of the century, but there’s no use in pointing that out.
Not knowing how to respond, I just nod my head in acknowledgement.
“Should we go to my house?” I offer up. “You’ll have to call Jack though, he won’t believe me if I’m the one who tells him we made up.”
Breaking into a grin, he finally looks himself again.
“Let’s go,” he says, throwing the covers off the bed. “I’ll tell him we’re getting the band back together.”
Jumping up with excitement, he knocks everything off his bedstand again.
We bolt down the stairs, laughing loudly and shouting our goodbyes to his mom as we hurdle out the front door.
Smiling to myself, I think, Maybe this summer is still salvageable.
But it disappears almost as fast as it came, because making up with Eleanor is going to be a hell of a lot harder than this was.