50. Anthony
fifty
anthony
How am I supposed to enjoy the mountain that my life is now perched upon when the woman I love is sitting somewhere in the valley without me? Superintendent Bishop formally invited me to apply to the assistant principal position with Nathan’s confirmation of taking over in the big chair next year, but I barely felt that pride in my chest.
What are successes if you can’t share them with the people you love?
That isn’t to say my parents and brothers aren’t proud. They’ve really come around to my new take-charge attitude, and while they are super proud of me, it’s almost as if none of this will be real without Pen there by my side, sharing in this journey. The new job, the district’s go-ahead with the behavior program. I’m even being sent to formal training so that, over the summer, I can train the admin in other buildings. For all intents and purposes, I should be on top of the world.
So why do I feel like I’m in the trenches?
Penelope and I really haven’t seen each other since that night—since we identified my insecurities with her book. I still haven’t quite put my finger on what has shaken me the most: The fact that our entire relationship is about to be in the hands of millions, or that I made her feel those gut wrenching things in the first place. I only made it through about a hundred pages before I couldn’t stomach the way she weaved her words together to tear Delilah to shreds.
I’m a coward for not finishing. I know that. I’m a coward for not facing what I did head on.
At the same time, I don’t have time to find out how Finn redeems himself. AP duties have stacked with finishing my house, and with the trifecta of middle school baseball season starting up, I have been getting negative sleep. I won’t be coaching this season due to all of my other responsibilities within the building, but I’ve been helping Sam, Aaron, and the coaches from Meadow Ridge figure out tryouts and organize practice schedules. Baseball is definitely something I’ll miss once I’m an administrator, so I’m soaking up all the time I can get.
My stacked schedule also doesn’t allow room for Penelope and I to see each other. It’s both a curse and a blessing that she’s working on book stuff late into the night. I think we’re both using work as an excuse to avoid each other, but at this point, I’m not sure what else to do.
Maybe when work slows down. Maybe when her book is with the editor. Maybe when we’re on summer vacation.
Maybe, maybe, maybe .
It strikes me that all of these excuses are starting to sound like the Ant that rationalized leaving her behind.
Maybe if I wasn’t with Avery. Maybe if things were different.
Bile rises up my throat at that thought. I can’t be that guy again. I need to address this sooner rather than later.
I’m in my car on my way home, about to call and see if she’s free for dinner tonight, when my phone rings with Nathan’s number.
“Hey man, what’s up?” I say, clicking into my car’s Bluetooth.
“I’m sorry to bother you after school hours, but would you be able to help with a house issue? I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m more of a ‘holds the tools’ type of handyman.”
I chuckle, turning right instead of left at the light. My heart stretches in the opposite direction.
When I arrive, I sit in Nate’s driveway and shoot Penelope a text. Even if we’re strained, I don’t want her to think I’m just disappearing from her life again. I let her know that I’m stopping by Nate and Claire’s place, and that she doesn’t have to wait for me to eat. When Nathan opens the front door, he looks downright frazzled. I haven’t seen the guy this off-kilter since he and Claire were apart. Not even when he was told to take over as the interim principal.
“Which appliance has your panties in a twist?” I chuckle.
“The dishwasher. We can just do the dishes ourselves, but I’d rather use our time together after dinner for better things.”
“Please do not elaborate,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder and heading into the kitchen where I find Claire and a pile of sopping wet towels. She looks miserable. “Isn’t this place brand new?”
Crouching down, I sift the towels and bucket out of the way and find the culprit almost immediately.
“It is, which means I’m going to be making an incredibly frustrated phone call if this is a mechanical issue.”
“Don’t bother. Your drain’s just clogged.”
I get to work while Claire and Nathan take care of the soaked towels. While I finish up, I show Nathan how to fix it for future reference, and in no time, we’re running a hot cycle to clean it out.
“Have you patched things up with Penelope yet?”
“Damn,” I chuckle. “Straight to the point, aren’t you?”
He just nods. I sigh, shaking my head.
“Not really. We keep missing each other—which I realize is an excuse. I just, uh… It really gutted me, you know?”
“Facing your mistakes head on? I do know. It’s terrifying and uncomfortable. And I’m so glad I finally got the courage to do it.”
Oh. Okay. We’re going straight for the jugular.
“Geez, dude, lay it on a little less thickly, will ya?” I chuckle awkwardly. “I just can’t believe she’s going to publish our dirty laundry.”
“First of all, it’s her absolute best work yet. Of course she’s going to publish it,” Claire says, returning from the laundry room. I feel my tail fold between my legs. “And secondly, did you actually read it?”
“The first bit, yeah.”
She rolls her eyes, disappears, and when she returns, she has a proof copy of Penelope’s newest book. It’s earmarked, Post-It noted, and highlighted, just like Pen’s copy.
“Be careful with it. I still need to give it to her so that she can make notes. But you really do need to finish the story.”
“I lived it,” I deadpan. “I know what happens.”
“ Do you?” she challenges, squinting at me with her arms crossed.
I stand corrected.
I haven’t wanted to face the end because I don’t want to know what happens when those two words make their way into our real life. Will I be able to live up to the fantasy of what Penelope created for our happily never after? Or will she always be wondering if the ending of her book was better?
If I can’t even live up to the ending she wrote for herself, where do we have to go from here? I’ve let her down more than once. I don’t want giving me her all to be her biggest disappointment.
“Read it, Ant. Trust me when I say that you will be surprised by the turn it takes.”
I trust her—skeptically. She has Penelope’s best interests in mind, so I know she can’t be giving me bad advice. On my drive home, the book haunts me from the passenger seat.
After shattering Penelope’s foundation, I could barely look at myself in the mirror for weeks. I’m scared to see what happens when I have to read my own actions on the page. Maybe this is what Nathan was talking about though. Facing my fears so I can overcome them.
My biggest one is letting her down again.
That truth slaps me square in the face. She asked me the other night what scared me the most about our future. Suddenly, I have the answer.
Maybe that’s what love is. Facing the ugly parts of yourself for the other person, with the other person. I didn’t get to face the ugly parts with Pen the first time. I left her in the dark to do it all by herself, and she waded through the swamp of her emotions by writing them down. I know reading this book will give me all the insight I need. I just have to grow the balls to do it.
On my way home, my phone rings through my Bluetooth.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Where are you driving this late?”
Ah, Debbie Ellis. Always looking out for her babies .
“I had to stop and help out a friend. I’m on my way home now.”
“Home as in the townhouse, or your new place?”
“Townhouse.”
Her. Penelope. She is home.
My mom’s silence speaks louder than any of the taunting things she could be saying—the ones I know she’s holding back. Is it weird that I kind of want her to tease me a little?
“What?” I chuckle.
“I didn’t say anything.”
I can picture her putting up her hands in surrender.
“Deborah Ellis, I know when you’re holding back. If you want to say something, just say it.”
She sighs, and if I strain my ears enough, I can hear her fingers drumming across the kitchen countertop.
“Make things right with her, alright? She’s a good girl. She deserves a happy ending outside of the ones she writes.”
I want to ask how Mom knows. As far as I’m aware, Pen only told her mom, me, and the group from school about her books. But my mom does have a way of seeming to know everything. Instead, I just nod. She is exactly right.
“I’ll figure it out,” I promise, pulling into the garage.
“Oh! You’re coming next weekend, right?”
“To knit my ass off?” I laugh. “Sure. I’ll do what I’ve done every other year: Take the finished hats to the done bin.”
“As long as you’re there. I like having you around.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
I disconnect, and sit in the front seat of my car for an extra minute, rubbing my palm over my chest where my heart is feeling real fuzzy all of a sudden.