Chapter 25
Moving Out
Emily
Six years ago...
“Could you pass me the third nail?”
I handed it to Richard. He had spent what felt like forever arranging all the nails in little piles, and now we were putting up bookshelf number eleven. Well actually, he was putting it up. I was just sitting there, giving him whatever he needed.
Richard had a lot of books—something I realized when we all moved into a new house with him. When Mama broke the news I was happy. Richard wasn’t around much but when he was, things were good. Except for that one Christmas when him and Lucas had a fight over Monopoly. Apart from that, everything was going great. I saw him even more than Papa, who sometimes canceled my weekend visits.
The move from our old place to this awesome half-timbered house, which was even farther from my old school, breezed by in just a day. But bringing all of Richard’s stuff here took about a week. I did my best to help out, but he didn’t want me to touch his stuff.
Richard went above and beyond, buying me a new bed, a chest of drawers, and even a desk for studying. Lucas got a new set of furniture too, but he seemed less grateful than I was. He was already out and about, making friends with the neighborhood kids. I couldn’t figure out how he made new friends so easily.
Mama came in with bulging grocery bags. “You two working hard?”
I jumped up from my chair to help her. I gaped at it all. We hadn’t had that much food in a long time.
“We should have all the bookcases set up by the end of the day.” Richard walked over and gave her a kiss on the mouth. It felt foreign to me: Papa didn’t use to kiss Mama. She smiled at him before going into the kitchen. I started to followed her but Richard’s voice pulled me back. “Emily, could you pass me nail number four?”
I went back to our setup and did the job I was supposed to do.
That night I had trouble sleeping. Tomorrow was my first day at a new school. It was only a ten-minute walk away, but I’d be starting in the middle of the year. I was already dreading all the small talk I would have to do. My stomach cramped all night until I was so exhausted, I finally drifted off to sleep.
Now...
So many questions rolled through my head, they threatened to overshadow the amazing night I had with Jon. Paul and Kiki were hanging out now? Paul got into another fight? Did he get attacked again?
And Jon hadn’t answered my question about going to Germany with me this summer...
“Emily,” Henry said.
“Oh, hi!” So much for sneaking to the basement stairs. He and Gena were perched on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, wearing unusually serious expressions.
“You’re late,” he said.
“And why is your hair wet?” Gena asked.
“I’m so sorry. I got tomato sauce all over me, so I—”
I hesitated. It felt wrong to lie to them. That was the old me, the one who thought lying was better than speaking the truth.
“No, that’s a lie. Jon and I went swimming at a lake. I’m sorry for not texting you and asking for permission.”
Gena and Henry exchanged a knowing glance before erupting into laughter.
I rubbed the side of my arm. “You guys aren’t mad?”
“Jon texted us, honey,” Gena explained. “But we asked him not to tell you to see if you’d be honest. You both passed the test.”
“You—” I fumbled for the right words but they didn’t come. “I can’t believe you would do something like that!” I laughed out loud, grateful I hadn’t stuck with my initial excuse.
“So sue us,” Gena joked. She reclaimed the popcorn bowl as Henry wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Wanna join us? We’re watching a football game.”
I nodded. “I’ll ask Paul if he wants to come up too.”
Gena and Henry gave me thumbs-up before gasping at something dramatic on the screen. Despite the passing months, football remained confusing to me.
I hesitated in front of Paul’s door—so much had happened since he’d massaged my feet on the couch this afternoon. The look he gave Jon outside... I barely even recognized him anymore. I cleared my throat and knocked.
“I’m busy!” Paul said in an annoyed tone.
I was familiar with Paul’s default response when he wasn’t in the mood to talk to his parents. “Too busy for me too?” I pushed open the door and stepped down the stairs.
“What do you want, Emi?” he said from his spot on the couch, not even looking up from his phone.
“Um... I feel like there’s some stuff we should talk about?” I asked nervously, settling on the other side of the couch. His scent reached me—the ocean breeze that was my home, my safe space. But I couldn’t feel drawn to it anymore.
Paul huffed. “What would we need to talk about?” He emphasized the we like it was some sort of infection. My breath caught; I hadn’t expected him to go cold on me. Especially not this cold.
“Because you’ve got bandages on your hands.” My voice trembled slightly. Why was I so nervous? This was Paul, my... not my Paul. A distant echo of Gena’s and Henry’s laughter bounced into the room, a reminder of what we used to have.
“Oh, that?” Paul stretched his fingers briefly. “Just a football injury. It’ll be fine.”
I narrowed my eyes. He had apparently forgotten that only a few hours had passed since our conversation this afternoon. “Don’t lie to me, Paul. We can talk, we—”
He threw his phone on the coffee table, and I flinched. Not only because of his reaction, but because of the empty bag of chips and burned-down candle next to it. I let my eyes wander through the room: the TV screen was paused on movie credits. Did Kiki and him have a date?!
“Sorry, this... it’s all so much.” He tugged his fingers through his hair.
“What is?” I asked, my palm magnetically pulled to his shoulder. He winced when I touched him so I let go.
“I mean, I accepted that you and Jon are...” He paused, and his Adam’s apple rippled up and down. “A thing now. But every time I see him it’s triggering, especially when he won’t even talk to me.”
I sighed. They felt the same way about each other, which didn’t make it any easier. “I wish he would talk to you too.”
“Why won’t he then?” Paul gave me a pleading look—the caring person I admired him for being. I closed my eyes for a moment.
Pro: He deserves to hear the truth.
Con: Jon told you that in private. It’s not your right to say anything.
Pro: But it would help Paul understand.
Con: But it’s on Jon to say it.
“This is useless,” I mumbled.
“What?” Paul asked, and I shook my head.
“Nothing. I just think you’re both currently a trigger for each other.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “You won’t tell me what’s going on either. Great.”
“Paul...”
I reached over and put my hand on his—and an image of Kiki doing the same thing popped up in my mind’s eye. A sudden surge of jealousy blindsided me.
Paul’s eyes were like a storm brewing. The room seemed to close in on me as seconds ticked by and his features hardened again. “Emily, I think we need to stop touching so much,” he said, and I yanked my hand away, my cheeks burning.
“Sorry,” I gasped, mad at myself for touching him in the first place. Jon and I had talked about this. And here I was, doing it again. Argh.
But Paul used to be my home. It wasn’t so easy to lock the door and throw away the key.
“Don’t be.” He smiled a very exhausted-looking smile.
He must be so tired of this situation. I had to get over myself and let someone new move in.
I grabbed a cushion and squeezed it tight. This was the moment I’d dreaded: the moment we realized what we were doing couldn’t work—at least not on the intimate level we had kept it. I swallowed down the pool of saliva that had built in my mouth.
“No, I’m sorry. This entire situation we’re in, it freaks me out because you’re still so important to me, and I don’t know what I should and shouldn’t do.”
Paul laughed, flashing the dimples I so loved. “I get it. How about we have a code word? Whenever you think something is too much you just say...” He looked around the room and stopped on an old crust of grilled cheese on a plate. “Grilled cheese.”
I made a gagging face. “That definitely works!”
He laughed. “And what should I say?”
I quickly thought of something I knew he hated. “Algebra!”
“Meh, algebra actually isn’t that bad anymore,” he said, and I gave him an incredulous look. “Kiki started tutoring me,” he explained.
“Hm, I see.” I was missing out on so much of Paul’s life. “Then tomato salad. You still hate tomatoes, right?”
“Weird flavor, even weirder texture.”
I giggled into my palm. “I think that could work then.”
“I think so too,” Paul said, his features way more relaxed now.
“So...” I cleared my throat. “Friend Paul, may I ask what happened tonight that your knuckles are bandaged up and you were...” I stared at the coffee table in front of me. “Having a, um, date? With Kiki?” I swallowed.
Paul rested his head against the back of the couch, smiling. “It wasn’t a date. Or maybe it was... I don’t know, we never really clarified.”
“Okay...?” I said in a high-pitched voice. I wasn’t sure I liked hearing about his love life yet. Especially if it was with Kiki. The thought of Paul falling in love with her—constantly having my ex-boyfriend’s ex hanging around the house all the time—made my throat tighten. “So um, how come you got injured on your date... or not-date?”
Paul glanced down at the bandages. “Someone’s out for me, Emily. And I have no fucking idea why.” He took a sharp breath through his teeth. “Kiki was waiting outside Olive Garden while I paid the bill...”
If he paid then it was a date, right? I mean, friends usually split the bill, don’t they?I pressed my teeth together to stop that comment from leaking out.
“When I went outside this man was cornering her, asking about me and threatening her. I lost it. I punched him—I don’t even know how many times. I only stopped because of Kiki...”
I jumped up from the couch. “You need to go back to the police!”
He shook his head. “What would they do? Last time when I got attacked, they acted like I was bugging them for something that was my fault. Anyway, I barely remember the guy’s face, I was so mad.”
I paced around the room. “But Kiki will remember! I’m sure!”
Paul was on his feet now too. “No, we’re not pulling her into this. She has enough to worry about.”
“But Paul, the police should know, they can help!”
“Emi,” Paul said calmly. Almost too calmly. “This time it was me assaulting someone. I could get in huge trouble for this.”
I sank back onto the couch. “But it was self-defense.”
Paul sighed. “I threw the first punch... The only punches, actually.”
I looked down at my hands, not knowing what to say. I knew Gena and Henry were looking for a therapist for him. I thought he was getting better, but apparently, I should think less and ask more. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Paul sighed again and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I’ve broken my head over what this could be about... I don’t want to believe it, but the only thing I can think of is that Jon has something to do with it.”
I swallowed. I didn’t want to think it, but my intuition was telling me the same thing. Jon was... connected to a bad crowd. Paul wasn’t.
“Do you think you could try and talk to him about this?” Paul requested. I nodded against the lump in my throat. “Thank you,” he said. “I know it’s not easy for you.”
“You deserve answers,” I whispered, feeling like I was betraying Jon somehow. The two of us got up. I took a step closer to him—but then back because hugging him would go against what we’d settled on.
He grinned. “Don’t be a dummy.” And pulled me into his arms. It wasn’t a long hug—it was the kind of quick clasp friends do to say goodbye. And it wasn’t enough... My worry for him, it made me want to hold him, as if my embrace could keep him safe. I was so scared.
“Thank you for telling me all this,” I said instead. “I’m glad we can still... talk about everything.”
He nodded. “Would be great if you could start doing that more often too.”
That stung. But I knew he didn’t say it to get back at me. “I’ll try.”
I started to head out, but then turned around. “You think we can do this? Find a way to become totally normal around each other?”
“We’ll never be totally normal. But I don’t want that anyway, because you’re part of my family.”
He came up and threw his arms around me again, more tightly this time. Relieved, I returned the hug, feeling his safety in my arms. When we pulled apart, I felt better. “You’re my family too.” I smiled, my eyes tearing up a bit. “Oh, I almost forgot, but Gena and Henry asked if you want to watch football on TV right now?”
“There’s a game on?” Paul gasped and sprinted to his phone. “Fuck, it’s almost halftime!”
“Then c’mon.” I nodded to the door but Paul hesitated.
“I don’t feel like giving them an explanation. I mean, I’ll tell them something, but just not tonight.” He looked down at his hands. Blood was seeping through his bandages.
“You want me to stay down here and we can watch it together?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah, you go up and I’ll text from down here.”
I smiled in agreement and rushed back upstairs with a lighter chest.
“Where’s Paul?” Henry immediately asked.
“I tried to convince him but he’s too tired.” A lie despite my new rules for myself. But this lie wasn’t for me—it was for Paul, and that made it acceptable. His parents didn’t question it, just filled me in on what I’d missed.
My phone buzzed and I grinned: a message from Jon lit up my screen.
Arschloch: Hey babe, I picked up Lauren, and she kept her promise and didn’t drink or do anything stupid. There might be hope for this Denson generation after all ;)
Me: Lauren isn’t the only one making me hopeful 3
Arschloch: I love you.
Me: I love you too.
Paul: So, what did I miss in the first half?