Chapter Twenty-Nine June 7
Chapter Twenty-nine
John and I haven’t spoken since I walked out of his car on New Year’s. That wasn’t intentional. I did draft messages, but I couldn’t send them. They were too angry. Self-centered. Downright depressing. There was nothing I could write or say that would change things.
John is right. He has always been right about us. It’s just taken me longer to get here. But the thing is, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to reach acceptance. Because if I do, it’s like admitting that it’s over, and I refuse to believe it is. No matter how much time stretches between us.
But time is going to pass regardless of how set in my ways I remain.
So instead of stewing or forcing myself through the stages of grief, I just keep going.
I go to school. Get good grades. Hang out with Andie every Friday night.
Spend weekends in my room reading or writing, usually both.
I’ve kept a low profile these last five months, mostly because I didn’t want my trip to New York City to be ripped away from me. And now the trip is only two days away.
Dad made it abundantly clear that he would not accept John, and I couldn’t let New York become another loss.
Although I never officially apologized for yelling that I hated him on New Year’s, Dad also never apologized for how he treated John.
It’s kind of like we broke even. Broke being the operative word.
Because our relationship, once solid, is now full of cracks.
Every tiny crack creates a new branch, multiplying, leaving fissures where we had both, at one time, found comfort.
And now, the weight of his disapproval bears down on me, eliminating the need for words.
I’ve never needed to hear the words. There is no master list of the rules.
No “sit down and let’s talk” moments. It all goes unspoken.
Communicated with looks. Through overheard conversations in which my parents cast judgment on others.
Folklore about other Arab girls who brought shame to their families.
Or about the kids around us growing up “lacking religion or morals.” The words never need to be spoken directly to us.
We all know. Daughters know. First-generation daughters especially know.
Born with a foot in both worlds, we toe a line that is at once invisible and delicate.
“Can I come in?” Georgie asks from behind my bedroom door. I check my phone. It’s still morning. And Saturday.
“Yeah,” I mumble, sitting up in bed. She opens the door and light from the hallway assaults my tired, crusty eyes. “Could you close that?” I say, shielding my face with my hand.
She huffs out a laugh and shuts the door before sitting on my bed. “God I miss having the freedom to sleep in.”
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, my voice still hoarse from sleep.
“Nice to see you too,” she says with a grin. “I want to take you shopping. New York City on Monday! You must be pissing yourself with excitement!”
“Where’s Paulie?” I ask, deflecting. I’ve been afraid to show how happy I am to be going to New York. It feels like anytime I let myself get excited about anything or anyone, it gets taken away.
“With Zach.”
“She’s lucky her dad isn’t a raging lunatic,” I say, bringing my knees closer to my chest.
Georgie offers me a small smile, the kind that tells me she knows exactly how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. She squeezes herself next to me like she used to before the pregnancy and Paulie and the wedding and moving out.
“Explain something to me,” I say. “How could they let me date Theo and not John? Why was one okay but not the other? They didn’t even give John a chance. And it’s not like they really knew Theo. The real Theo. Because if they had, they wouldn’t have let him near me.”
Georgie laughs. “To them, Theo is safe.”
“Theo wasn’t safe,” I say. “Not in the ways that are important to them. One of the reasons we broke up was because he wanted more, physically, than I could give him. But Mom and Dad seemed to think Theo wouldn’t even have tried to kiss me until we were married.”
She shakes her head like I’m some dense child. “They just chose to bury their heads in the sand. They knew that you and Theo did stuff. But they just didn’t want to know, you know?”
“No?”
“Notice how they never gave you any lectures about him? Did they ever once warn you not to let him kiss you or touch you?”
“No. But I just assumed—”
“Right. You just assumed that they expected you wouldn’t do anything. And they let themselves believe that Theo respected them too much to try anything. They wanted you guys together so badly that it almost didn’t even matter. If the words aren’t spoken, it never has to be true.”
“I don’t understand.”
Georgie sighs and turns to me. “They want you to end up with Theo because they know what a future with him would look like. Visits every Sunday. A boatload of kids. You at home, taking care of things, and Theo at work, taking care of you. It’s the life Mom and Dad have.”
“You don’t think Mom and Dad want more from me? Why else would Dad be pushing me to take all these math classes?”
“Think of Theo as a cloud. Somewhere soft to land,” Georgie says.
“Do you really think they knew Theo and I were physical?”
“I think they just didn’t let their minds go there. Because it’s easier that way. Denial is a small price to pay to keep you in the arms of someone they approve of. Someone who would ultimately keep you close to them.”
“Huh.”
“Lennon, you can’t seriously be this surprised. They have a daughter who got pregnant at seventeen. They were trying to control your love life while they still saw you as malleable.”
What if Georgie’s right? What if my father truly believes he’s some kind of mastermind? A puppet master who brought me and Theo together. And the only thing that stood in the way of my father getting exactly what he wanted was, and still is, John Brody.
“I think I get it,” I say, nodding.
“You could do worse than Theo Petropolis.” She cocks a grin and I glare at her. “He’s smart, and our parents love him. Easy on the eyes, too. But,” she says, forcing eye contact with me, “none of that matters if you don’t love him. Because you can’t force love. It’s either there or it isn’t.”
“Is it there for you and Zach?”
Before I can take back my intrusive question, she offers me a strained smile that answers it more than words ever could.
“Paulie is worth it all,” she says. “But I want more for you. Everyone does. We all really love you. Everyone who knows you loves you.” She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. I swallow, squeezing her hand back. “You have this quality about you.”
“My autism?” I snort.
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s this sort of magical, ethereal it factor. This aura that draws people in. They give you their wild intensity, their truest, most honest selves, because they know you’ll accept them. But it’s a lot of pressure on you. Everyone wanting or needing you to be something.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I guess it’s a different reason for each person.”
“What’s your reason?” I ask.
“Remember that night we were in the backyard, and you made me stare up at the moon with you?”
I nod.
“My whole life was falling apart, and you had no idea, and yet you knew exactly what I needed. Your heart and intelligence are mixed with an old soul. You love very deeply and make everyone around you feel like they’re the most important person in your life.
And once someone gets a taste of that, they can’t bear to let it slip away.
So we all hold on tight to you, sometimes draining your beautiful energy, and it’s not fair. ”
“Careful,” I say, swallowing down the tightness in my throat. “I may actually start believing in myself.”
Georgie smiles. “You know you’re special. You’ve always known it. Now get your special ass up so we can buy you some cute outfits for NYC!”
The next day, Andie comes over to help me pack, though it’s more like watching me pack for New York.
I leave tomorrow morning. We’ll be there for five days, and we’re allowed only one piece of luggage, and it has to be small.
So much for that shopping spree Georgie made me go on yesterday.
She did convince me to buy a two-piece for the first time, though, in case the hotel has a pool.
I buried that in the bottom of the bag. Inside a pair of socks.
In a moment of weakness, I asked Mrs. Morales last week who won the scholarship seat, hopeful that maybe my words on the Ferris wheel had inspired John to apply. But it wasn’t him.
Andie’s lying on my bed, telling me a story about how she and Reid hung out with Eddie yesterday. She tried to convince Eddie to get the band back together so she could live out her dream and be a lead singer. But Eddie told her those days are over, and it’s all because of me.
“He had the audacity to blame the band’s breakup on you. Can you believe it?”
“It’s kind of true, though, isn’t it?” I ask, stuffing T-shirts into my duffle bag.
“No, Lennon. It’s not true,” she says, sitting up. “They can’t blame their issues on you. Besides, they sucked anyway.”
“They were okay,” I say. “From the little I heard.”
“Eddie says Theo isn’t over you.”
“Really?” I huff out a laugh. “I think he’s had three girlfriends since we broke up.”
“Exactly. It’s so obvious he’s trying hard to pretend he’s over it. Hey.” A devilish smile curves her mouth. “Did you ever see it?”
“Andie!”
“Please, I am dying to know. It’s huge, right? He gives off BDE,” she says before bursting into laughter.
“You’re going to hell,” I say, laughing with her.
She holds her hands out, parallel and slowly pulls them apart. “Tell me when to stop.”
“Stop!” I say, throwing a pillow at her.
Andie looks down at her hands and frowns. “Really?”
She laughs hysterically as I pinch her sides. Sliding my bag away, I sit next to her on my bed.
“I was really attracted to him, and we did everything but…you know. The thing is, I always felt bad after.”
“Like sore?”
“No.” I push her, and she laughs again. “Like guilty. Like I did something wrong. But not just after, sometimes even during. I couldn’t let myself enjoy being with him.”
Andie’s face scrunches up. “That sounds more like your own personal hang-up.”
“Right, and I’d agree, but the thing is, I didn’t ever feel that way with John.”
Andie nods. “It’s probably because you love John.”
“But Theo loved me, so it’s not like I felt used or anything.”
“I think,” Andie says, smiling back at me, “the way you feel about John is the way Theo feels about you.”
“Maybe.”
“So…you didn’t happen to save any of those racy pics he sent, did you?”
We laugh so hard my bag falls off the bed.
There’s a certain freedom in being able to talk to Andie about Theo.
But there’s this other part of me that thinks it’s something I should keep private.
I just don’t like the idea of people seeing me that way.
Not that I viewed Andie any differently when she told me about her first time.
It was with Reid a few months ago. She said once they had sex, he became a lot more attached to her, but it didn’t really change her feelings for him.
“I wish you were coming to New York,” I say with a pout.
“Me too. Alas, I’m not an artist. Just a wannabe singer.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Any cute guys going?” she asks as I get up to finish packing.
“Cute? Yes. Straight and cute? Not sure.”
“Well,” she says, lifting one butt cheek off my bed and digging into her pocket, “just in case…here.” She holds out her hand. I squint to get a better look at the shiny foil packet laced in between her fingers. A condom.
“Andie. Put that away,” I say, my eyes shifting to the closed bedroom door.
“Okay.” She sits up and sticks her hand deep into my bag. “There. I put it away.”
I glance at the door again and lean down, whispering, “I’m not going to have sex with some random guy from our school in New York.”
“Why not? It’s New York City. If I could lose my virginity in New York City, I would.”
“Even if it would be an incredible story,” I say, not wanting to admit it is something I may have daydreamed about, “I can’t do that with someone I barely know.” I sigh, flopping down on my bed. “I should have had sex with Theo and gotten it over with.”
“It’s not too late.” She winks and positions her hands apart while mouthing “This big?” We break into laughter again, and for the first time in months, the air surrounding me is light. I’m on the verge of something huge. Monumental. I can feel it in my bones.