Chapter 12
Rewriting the Story
Emily
“Who would hurt Paul like this? I mean, it’s Paul we’re talking about, he’s...” I took a deep breath, gripping the phone tightly in my hand.
“I know, Little German,” Jon whispered so softly that I had to press it to my ear to hear him. I’d expected him to get mad, freak out at least, but he was acting like he wasn’t even surprised that someone had punched Paul out.
“Jon, what’s going on? Do you know what this is about?” The way he stopped puffing on his cigarette made me feel like I was onto something. I hated my brain for immediately thinking he had something to do with it. It wasn’t fair. Yet I couldn’t shake off the suspicion that Jon was somehow involved in this mess.
“I saw it,” he confessed.
“Saw what?”
“Him get beat up. It was on my street.”
I sprang up from the couch. “Did you see who it was?”
Jon stayed quiet for what felt like an eternity. I tapped my foot impatiently. “Jon?”
“Fuck. They were too far away,” he muttered.
I swallowed hard, my worry growing, but the way he reacted—I didn’t want to interrogate him further. If he had something to do with it, he would tell me in his own time. He wouldn’t let Paul pay for his own involvement with gangs, keep mum to save himself. That wasn’t my Jon.
“I’m worried that he got seriously injured,” I said instead. “They’ve been at the hospital for so long now. I’m scared.”
“Me too, Little German,” he whispered into the phone, his voice oddly tight. My warning signals lit up; every little thing could trigger him. Like seeing his best friend get beat up by a stranger...
“I’m coming over,” I didn’t ask but stated.
“No,” he said, quick and sharp. “Be there for him when he gets back. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” I wanted to be there for Paul, make up for what I had done wrong, but I didn’t want to let Jon down either.
“Little German,” he growled. “I’ll never feel comfortable with you and Paul living under the same roof. I know how he feels about you, and how you...” He stopped speaking for a moment, and I felt my heart do a double flip. “You love with all your heart. If you stopped caring about him from one day to the next, you wouldn’t be the girl I fell in love with. So please, be there for our best friend.”
My heart seemed to stop with happiness. He hadn’t used the L-word since he’d gotten back from rehab... It looked like we were working up to it again. I was ready to yell it from a mountain. But I couldn’t, not until everything with Paul was figured out.
“You’re wonderful,” I said simply, not to get ahead of myself.
“I swear, if he tries something—”
“He won’t. Don’t worry.”
But I was only half-certain of that. From Paul’s point of view, my relationship with Jon probably looked unrealistic, maybe unbelievable even. He didn’t know why Jon and I shared a bond so potent, it felt like fate. I needed to clear the air, no matter how much it hurt to let him go.
“Babe?” I asked, momentarily surprised by the pet name.
“Yeah?” Jon’s breath hitched in the speaker.
“I know you’ve been following some steps. But I was wondering... why haven’t you talked to Paul so far?”
A heavy silence settled in. I checked to make sure the call was still connected. It was.
“Jon?”
“I don’t know what to say, Emily.” It threw me off that he used my real name. “Every time I see him... I feel tempted to use. I do want to talk to him, but I don’t feel ready yet.”
I nodded empathetically. “I understand. Will I see you this weekend?” This was something to talk about in person, not over the phone. We hadn’t gotten much alone time so far. Jon was busy attending lots of meetings, catching up on spending time with his sister, making amends. He hadn’t gone back to school yet either. All of that intensified the longing I felt for him.
“I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow. But Sunday for sure.”
“Okay.”
Zack walked into the room and flicked the lights on and off, a quirky habit of his. I used to find it annoying, but now I knew he did it to grab my attention.
“I got to go. I’ll call you later.” He said goodbye and I hung up. When I looked up, Zack was already on his way out. “Wait, where are you going?”
“Meeting someone.” Zack shrugged like it was just another ordinary Saturday. I walked over to the doorframe and leaned against it.
“Your brother will be back from the hospital soon. Don’t you want to wait?”
Zack rolled his eyes. “Nah, it was only a little blood. Plus, I don’t think my help is what he needs.”
I bit my lip. When Zack and I had talked in the garage before I had chosen Jon, I had promised not to hurt Paul—but I’d failed.
Zack picked up on my mood change. “Listen, we’re cool and all. It just sucks seeing him like this, okay?”
I nodded, knowing he wasn’t talking about Paul’s physical injuries. Zack was such a precious person if you looked below the surface.
“I’ll talk to him today.” It was a promise I knew I had the power of keeping.
“Good.” He checked his appearance in the mirror close to the front entrance.
“Have fun with your girl.” I winked, guessing at his plans. He had combed his hair up into a bun—an unusually done look for him.
“Yeah, whatever.” He made a farting sound with his lips before dashing outside.
An hour passed in which I tried to figure out how to start a conversation with Paul. By now I had about eight entries in my book, but none of them were right.
Dear Paul...
Paul...
Hi, Paul...
I’m sorry.
Just then the door swung open, revealing Paul—face swollen, cheek stitched up, one eye a deep shade of purple. He looked—destroyed. Yet the most pain in his face was in the way he looked at me.
“How are you?” I asked, leaping off the couch and taking a few tentative steps toward him.
“All superficial,” he said, stepping nearer. Up close, I couldn’t help but gasp at his battered state. “Mom and Dad are losing it though,” he added.
“You can add me to that list.” Tears welled in my eyes. It could’ve ended so much worse than superficial.
He reached out and brushed my upper arm. “You don’t have to worry about me. Okay?”
I shook my head, looking up at the ceiling. “How could I not worry? You got attacked.”
He sighed, pulling his hand away. “I know.”
“Do you have any idea why?” I looked at him pleadingly, hoping desperately he could shed some light on this.
“Maybe you should ask Jon that,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.
“He doesn’t have anything to do with it,” I said, too quickly, despite being unsure myself. But I had to give Jon the benefit of the doubt—rehab had changed him. He didn’t give his life for drugs anymore.
“Right,” Paul huffed. “Anyway... Can we talk?”
“Sure,” I said, already practicing my speech in my head. “Sit down. I’ll get you something to drink.”
I went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass. Okay, Emily. You can do this. Speak the truth, I reminded myself. I filled the glass with water and headed back into the living room. “Where are Gena and Henry?” I asked as I handed it to him, stalling for a bit more time.
“Thanks. They’re going to the pharmacy to refill our first aid kit.”
I couldn’t help but stare at his bruised face. “Were you afraid?”
Paul took a gulp of water and set the glass down on the coffee table. “I’d handle this better if I knew what it was all about,” he admitted, and I felt my cheeks heat up. Was that a hint at me for not answering his question?
I moved to sit on the other end of the couch. Paul sighed, grabbed a pillow and hugged it against his belly. “Listen, Emi,” he said, “what I said the other week—”
I blurted one of my many entries in sheer panic. “I’m sorry, Paul. I know this situation at home is strange and I shouldn’t have avoided you for so long. Shutting you out was the wrong way to do things.” My heart was racing so frantically, I worried I might pass out. “I was selfish, idiotic, a dummy. You took me into your family and I took up all the space. You’re my best friend, and by hurting you, I hurt—”
“It’s okay,” Paul interjected, tossing the pillow aside and leaning in closer.
My eyebrows shot up. “I still have about three more pages of apologies left.” I pressed on. “Because I should’ve been there for you. Obviously your issues are mine, especially since we’re not just ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend. We’re more than that, living together, and you saved me. You were my first love, and despite me choosing to be with Jon, I—” I still love you, and I don’t know how to deal with that.
He let out a bristly laugh, interrupting my confession. “Seriously, stop. It’s fine.”
“But there’s more—”
He placed his palm on top of my hand, making the skin tingle. “I know, but even though I appreciate hearing all this, I don’t need to. Not anymore at least.” He smiled.
I debated that for a moment, but then nodded. It felt better this way, easier to keep my true feelings to myself. “Okay, but if you ever change your mind and want to talk about this more, we can. I’m ready to talk now.”
He sighed, eyes fixed on our touching hands. “I mean, of course I would love more answers, but I think whatever they are... they won’t make a difference.”
I gave him a confused look.
“Before I got attacked, I was determined to fight for you,” he said. “I didn’t want to let go of what we had... But while I was getting my ass handed to me, I realized how much I was torturing myself by holding on. My life was on the line, and yet all I could think about was you. I mean, how fucked up is that?”
I swallowed hard as the image of Paul getting beat up formed in my mind. Thinking about it made my stomach ache.
“You chose him,” he said. “I don’t understand it, but I’d rather not know the reasons why.”
I nodded, relieved. “Thank you, Paul.”
He studied me, his eyes filled with such care that I was on the verge of tearing up. “It’s not going to be easy, though,” he admitted, and I was grateful for his honesty.
“I know, it’s not easy for me either.” All he was doing was look at me and my pulse was skyrocketing. I felt our connection again—that feeling I had when we got together in the first place.
“It’s clear we’ll always be a part of each other’s lives.” He took in a breath, and in that moment I realized I was holding my own. “Do you think we can try and find a way to be... friends?” He put on a forced smile, a grimace that almost made me laugh.
“Friends sounds great,” I squealed. Realizing I sounded a bit too excited, I sobered my expression.
His eyes drifted to my mouth and back up to my eyes. “So, um...” He leaned in, opening his arms for a hug.
“Oh!” Pitching forward to meet him halfway, I accidentally banged my cheek against his bruised face. I jerked back. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry!”
“Emi.” He chuckled and smoothed a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m fine.”
For a brief moment I felt my heart flare out of my chest. He was fine. Jon was fine. And I... I was fine, I think.
I grinned and went for the hug again. But it still didn’t feel quite right, as if this was far from the end of our journey to becoming friends. The attack on Paul hovered above us like a dark cloud. It was simply a question of when it would unload.