Chapter Forty
Sean
I’m coping well.
At least, until Flora called and told me she got into NYU.
Despite being happy for her, there’s this sense of loss because everything’s pointless now.
We used to talk about a future together before it came crashing down.
In the end, it doesn’t matter where she goes to school.
She’ll go to Central Park and MoMA with some other guy, and I’ll have no one to build a robotic cheetah for anymore.
After I hang up, I meet up with Josie. She offers to take me to a loud concert to numb my brain. I slide into the passenger seat of her car, and the radio is playing “I Wanna Be Yours” by Arctic Monkeys.
She switches it off.
“I’ve been thinking about what I did wrong,” I say.
“What’s the conclusion?”
“She changed a lot for me, but I couldn’t do the same for her. There were things I was willing to do, but I had to draw the line somewhere. Flora was like, she could give up anything for me.”
She gives me a noncommittal nod, signaling she heard rather than agreed. “And it’s your fault you can’t change for her?”
“Maybe? She wanted a break, not a breakup, but I couldn’t do that either.”
“Of course you couldn’t agree to that. You’d just be waiting, overanalyzing, and torturing yourself. That uncertainty would eat you alive.”
“You know me so well.”
“Dude, I literally grew up with you.” Josie adjusts her grip on the wheel as she merges into the next lane.
“Flora was changing for you, not herself. She was trying to fit into your world, adopting your values because she felt she should, not because she actually agreed. That kind of shift doesn’t last. In the end, you simply weren’t right for each other.
It’s like a band with a great lyricist and a genius songwriter, but the sound just doesn’t click, so you separate on good terms. It’s not anyone’s fault. ”
“I wish it was that easy.”
“Ask yourself: If you could do it all over again, what would you change?”
Our moments together, each one more precious than the last, unfold as the fading sunlight spills like liquid gold across the dashboard. What could I have done to save us?
There are things that go against my core values that I wouldn’t change.
I’d still prioritize school, challenge her to do the same, and choose safety over spontaneity.
I’d still hold my ground when it matters, even if it pushes her away, because I’d rather lose her than let her regret something I could’ve prevented.
But just because there’s nothing drastic or fundamental to rewrite doesn’t mean I did everything perfectly. Now that Josie’s question hangs there with no background music, the truth becomes abundantly clear: There’s no singular moment to undo, but I could’ve moved through it differently.
I could’ve listened more, been more curious, and given her the chance to speak instead of jumping in with a solution before she could finish a thought. There were moments when the words hovered on her lips, and I was secretly relieved when she swallowed them.
I wouldn’t have stopped being me. But I could’ve made her feel more accepted for being her.
“I did what I thought was right, but I could’ve been . . . kinder. Sometimes I knew I was winning by talking her into a corner, not by changing her mind. Maybe—deep down—I liked that she listened to me. Like if she followed my lead, she’d be okay. And that’s not partnership. That’s—”
“Arrogance,” Josie supplies.
“Yeah,” I say. “The kind that hides under good intentions.”
She nods. “Exactly. You offered logic, structure, and a plan, but she needed empathy. Not everything is yours to fix, but let’s be real—you’re Sean. You couldn’t not care if you tried. Did you ever ask her how she felt about all this?”
“No, it was more like, Here’s what we’re going to do, please trust me on it and agree.
” I cringe, realizing how it sounds. “I genuinely believed I was doing what was best, but in hindsight, I never checked if she was truly on board. Part of me was even a little proud of my talent for persuasion. And when she started pulling away, instead of addressing it, I’d smooth it over.
Turns out, keeping the peace meant avoiding the deeper stuff.
Guess I won the battles but lost the war. ”
“In a way, you were still avoiding confrontation,” Josie says.
“Yes. Even during the breakup, I tried to be respectful by accepting without protest, but I didn’t ask any questions either. I never pushed to understand what she needed from me. Maybe I was afraid to ask, because I couldn’t give it to her.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Even knowing all that, your fundamental differences are still there. So these realizations wouldn’t necessarily have saved the relationship. It still might’ve ended like a Shakespearean tragedy. You see the end coming, but you can’t stop it.”
“True. So we were doomed, huh?”
“No. Then you have no regrets. You both gave it your best shot. You cared, you tried, and both your lives are better because you met each other. The best thing you can do now is give it space, let her figure things out on her own, and do the same for yourself.”
It puts a positive spin on things, makes them less pointless. And besides, I’ll never forget a single moment with Flora. Those sparkling memories are snowflakes in a snow globe, perpetually preserved. I can shake them up and watch them fall whenever I want.
“And I think the problem is, you’re treating this like a physics test. You thought if you put in enough effort, you’d get the result you wanted. But relationships don’t follow a formula. Even if you do everything right, you can still fail.”
The words hit somewhere deep. I’ve spent my life believing hard work guarantees success—grades, MIT, basketball—every step is a calculated input for a predictable result. But Flora was never a problem to solve.
“J, maybe you do know more about relationships than I do.”
She raises her eyebrows and holds one hand out, as if to say, You think? “Maybe it won’t last forever, no matter what you do. But the feeling of doing the right thing will last.”
“And I guess an NYU diploma will last forever too.”
“Exactly.” The engine hums as she steps on the gas. Halfway to our destination, she stops at a red light. “It takes time, you know.”
“To get to the concert?” I ask, even though I know better.
“Yeah, to the concert.” She smiles. “You’ll be okay.”
* * *
Not long after, prom rolls around the corner.
“I assume you’re not going with Flora,” Josie says as we sit on the lawn, waiting for class to start.
“That’s right. Who’s she going with?” None of my business.
“She’s making a statement and going solo.” Josie looks at me. “How about you?”
Dances were never a big deal to me, but senior prom’s different. It’s important. And going with someone random doesn’t sound right. “I don’t know. No one comes to mind.”
“How about we go together as best friends?”
I laugh. “You want to go with me? You should go with Brian.” She’s offering because she’s worried about me. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
“Dude, I’m serious. My UW boyfriend’s already done his senior prom. No need to drag him to mine.”
“But don’t you want him to pick you up in a limo?”
She snorts. “That’s so lame. We’re too cool for that.”
“Don’t expect a limo from me either.”
“Take it easy. We’ll just hang out.”
“Are you sure Brian won’t mind?”
“He doesn’t care.” Josie pops a piece of gum into her mouth, chews it for a moment, then adds, “You know what? I wouldn’t date anyone who doesn’t get our friendship. I’ve known you my whole life. He’s totally cool with it.”
“Well, then, sure. Let’s go to prom together.”
“Great! Who knows how many chances we’ll get to hang out after graduation,” she says, her eyes softening with a foreign light. The kind of look that comes with endings. A wave of melancholy hits, even though high school isn’t over yet.
The bell rings. Josie stands, slipping on her headphones. I’m grateful for her friendship, especially considering where I am in this—the guy friend, the exact role I’m wary of when it comes to being a boyfriend, yet here I am, agreeing to go to prom with her.
That’s some serious double standard right there.
* * *
Josie, wearing a gray tee and black leather pants, rings my doorbell. It’s not what anyone would expect for prom, but for Josie, this is just another night of defying expectations. We grab a quick dinner, take her car to school, and join a small group of friends.
Jake, Dylan, Josie, and I huddle around the punch bowl, toasting to whatever comes to mind—Jake being voted Most Gorgeous four years in a row, Josie’s single hitting ten thousand streams on Spotify, me securing the second-highest GPA, the cafeteria lady who always sneaks us extra servings, and Dylan and Sydney proving that high-school relationships can at least last until prom.
I’m almost jealous. For now, they seem to be on good terms, treating us to a live showing of Parental Advisory: Explicit Content.
We toast to brotherhood—Josie calls it “not inclusive.” Dylan insists, “but you are a brother,” and she smacks him upside the head.
Then we move on to toast the Roman Empire, democracy, the American education system, the strong relations between Germany and the USA, and, of course, peaking in high school.
When Josie finally gets fed up with our shit and takes off to find Carmen and Madison, Jake raises his cup. “Seriously, though, wouldn’t have made it through without you.”
Dylan nods, lifting his drink. “Yeah, I fucking love you guys.”
“Without you two, I’d have been valedictorian,” I say. They both punch me on the shoulder. “Totally worth it, though.”
And it is. These guys know everything I don’t outright say.
By the time I spot Raymond moving through the crowd, I’m already tipsy on nostalgia.
He’s pulling a few shy, unsure girls onto the dance floor one by one.
He does this a couple of times until no one’s left standing alone.
He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, either, just throws them a smile and makes them feel like they belong. This isn’t even his party.
It’s something Flora would do. In some ways, they’re quite similar. High school’s ending, and I don’t want to leave with any regrets, so I step forward.
He sees me coming and grins.
“Hey,” I say, stalling for time while figuring out how to start this conversation.
He nods, wise and smug. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh. We don’t run in the same circles, and there’s been some misunderstandings. But we’re cool now, right? No hard feelings.”
“Right. Pretty much. And thanks for inviting me to all those parties over the years.”
He shrugs. “My pleasure. Probably not the best time to say this, but for what it’s worth, you’re a good guy. And, hey, respect for the SAT thing. Flora’s lucky to have you.”
“She’s lucky to have you too. I’m glad you’re both at NYU and can have your little movie nights together.” I grimace. “Can’t believe I said that.”
Ray’s hands fly to his chest in mock gratitude, and a faint cloud of pot hangs in the air. “I’ve been waiting years for this. Your approval means the world to me, you have no idea.”
“Moment of weakness. Won’t happen again.”
He grins wide. “Nah, I need this on record. Write it down for documentation purposes.”
“You want a paper trail of me being nice to you?”
“Preferably with a time stamp. Maybe even a signature, if you’re feeling generous.”
I snort despite myself. Me, laughing at Raymond Corbett’s jokes. The bass from the speakers thumps through the floor. “Okay, that’s it. Have a good night.” I turn to leave, then stop. “You might want to ease up on the pot, though. It’s not good for you.”
“Thanks, Mom. Anything else? Want to check my exercise routine? Make sure I’m taking my vitamins?”
Thank god he’s not my responsibility. Imagine having to deal with all his life choices.
“Unbelievable. Just when I was starting to like you.”
“You’ll come around. They always do. By the way, post-prom party at my place. Please come.” He claps me on the shoulder before disappearing back into the crowd.
* * *
A commotion at the gym entrance pulls my attention.
Flora arrives alone, fashionably late, as expected. She moves through the crowd like moonlight on water, leaving ripples in her wake. It’s impossible to ignore her existence. She slows time itself.
I force myself to look away.
Or try to.
Her dress is bare backed, held together by a few absurdly thin strings. Josie is talking about a summer class she wants to take, and I try to focus, but it’s like studying enzyme kinetics in front of a flashing neon sign.
Then Brian shows up in a tux, limo waiting outside. Josie laughs, actually blushes, and ditches me without a second thought.
Raymond and Madison are crowned Prom King and Queen—no surprises there. I scan the room again.
Flora stands at the drink table, pouring herself a glass of water. She sets it down.
Her eyes catch mine across the room, and the lights reflect off them. They’re warm as chocolate, sweet to drink in and ultimately to drown in.
Turn away. Even cavemen learned their lesson after the first burn. But this is Flora, and when it comes to her, logic and self-preservation don’t stand a chance.
I blame her dress, mostly.
My heart pounds against my ribs. It’s reckless, maybe even self-destructive, but it’s so wrong to end senior year without at least one dance with Flora.
So I make my way toward her.