Chapter 38
I watch Joe’s first few jokes, then I follow the fluorescent tape through the darkness to the door, a staff member opens it silently for me, and I go down the bright hallway and push open the exit to the parking lot.
Minutes after I leave the stage, I’m driving away, playing Sufjan Stevens as loud as my phone will go.
When I pull up to Elijah’s, his car is in the driveway.
With a bag of luggage beside it.
Elijah exits the house carrying his shoe rack and a barbell. He sees me and stops. Before I can wave or open my car door, he keeps walking and places his things in his trunk. Without turning my way, he goes back inside.
When he comes back out with two cardboard boxes, I’m beside the front steps.
“I can carry one.”
“No thanks.” He keeps walking.
I follow beside him. “Thank you for helping me in English. I’m sorry I didn’t write to you afterwards. I thought I was being kind by not bothering you, but I think I was accidentally ignoring you.”
He drops the boxes in the trunk. “I literally texted you in English that you were ignoring me.”
“You did. But in addition to that, afterwards I was accidentally ignoring you. I wish I’d texted to thank you for bringing me to the nurse.”
He crosses his arms. “How’s your head?”
“It’s fine. I’m going to do a better job taking care of myself now, so something like that won’t happen again. But how are you?”
He uncrosses his arms and brushes a finger across an eyebrow. “I’m sorry for not believing you when you said you were bi. I believe you.”
“And I’m sorry for getting confrontational about it in your bedroom.” I try to figure out what will let us keep talking. I try to determine how to be caring but not irritating. “I’m trying to—”
He cuts me off. “That first day in the bathroom, you told me you cried when you and your mother moved when you were young, and I said I related. I never had to move like you did, but I didn’t want to leave New Jersey to come here.
I did it because the life I needed wasn’t there. It turns out it’s not here either.”
“Are you moving back?”
His mom comes out with two reusable shopping bags. “Your father won’t have cooked a thing, so—”
She’s wearing the same large purple glasses as in the framed photo.
I wave. “Hello. My name is Sean.”
“Hello, Sean.” Her face remains still, professional.
Possibly belatedly or inappropriately, I go over and hold out a hand. “Can I help?”
She passes me a bag and looks at Elijah.
“I like your glasses,” I say.
She gives a hesitant smile. “Thank you.” She passes Elijah the other bag. “I’ll leave you two to talk. Let me know when you’re—let me know.”
“I’m leaving now,” Elijah says.
“Okay!” She turns to me. “Nice to meet you, Sean.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms.…how would you like to be addressed?”
A slightly less hesitant smile. “You can call me Danielle.” She crosses her arms. “And what do you think, Sean? Do you like Paumanok?”
“Well. No.”
Elijah lets out a low “Ha.”
“But it’s a big school,” I say. “There are a lot of people who are great. Like Elijah.” I look at him as he looks across the street. “I have two good friends who think Elijah’s great too.”
Danielle raises her eyebrows at him. “They do, huh?”
He gives the same look right back to her.
“Well,” she says to me, and it sounds like she’s about to leave, “I appreciate you coming by.”
“I’m glad I got to meet you. I—” It’s so hard to know whether sharing a feeling is generous or excessive. “I really believe in mothers. And I think you must be a special person to have raised someone like Elijah.”
She uncrosses her arms.
Elijah clears his throat. “Mom.”
The professionalism returns to her face. “Thank you,” she says to me. She goes and kisses Elijah’s cheek. “Drive safe.”
He doesn’t reply immediately, but she doesn’t walk away.
“I will,” he says.
“Text me when you arrive.”
“I will.”
“And how much charge does your car have?”
“Mom.”
She smiles wide. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
She leaves, and I watch for Elijah to turn to me, but he tosses his luggage into the trunk, closes it, and opens his car door.
“Wait,” I say.
He turns to me with an exhale that might be a sigh.
I can’t think of what to say, so I simply ask what I’m wondering, which is, “How have you been?”
He nods, considering. “Stressed. Seeing you like that in English was scary. When I got home, I watched my phone for you to let me know you were okay. And when you never did…” He shrugs.
“What’s in that shrug?”
His voice is quiet. “You weren’t there for me.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t.”
Another exhale. “You had your show?”
“I did.”
His face remains still, like his mother’s.
“I hope it went well,” he says, and gets in the car.
“This is because of one bad conversation and one bad day?”
“Yes.” He looks at me with fire in his eyes. “And I know that’s over the top, and I know you were having a tough time. But I told you it’s hard for me to trust someone, and—” He shakes his head.
“You know I care about you. I care about you so much and I—”
He looks up, his lips tight. “That is meaningless to me if it doesn’t translate into something I can see.”
“I’m right here.”
“I didn’t ask you to be here, and I’m not interested in big romantic gestures when I know there can be equally big moments of…of just not even being present at all. I would rather have someone I can rely on.”
“I want to be someone you can rely on.”
His eyes get wide. “But what if you can’t be?”
I keep my feet planted. “I can. And if you give me another chance I’ll show you.”
He holds my gaze for a long time. “I don’t want to risk getting hurt again. I’m sorry.”
He closes his door and drives away, and I don’t hesitate to cry.