My sister’s place is my dream apartment. White Christmas lights line the inside windows and the furniture is all really modern stuff from Ikea that screams We are young and broke, but cool. She and her roommates have draped the walls with colorful sarongs and hung Chinese lanterns throughout.
What follows is pretty much the best weekend of my life. There’s an impromptu bonfire on the beach, a doughnut run at two a.m., mornings spent drinking coffee, and thrift-store shopping. We check out nearby USC and I can’t stop talking about the great French program there with a study-abroad option and how their drama school is one of the best in the country. I buy a sweatshirt and pose for a picture in front of Tommy Trojan, the USC mascot, and try not to think about how I’m going to manage to pay my tuition.
“Okay, little sis, I gotta ask,” Beth begins. We’re sitting on a blanket on the beach, watching Nat and Lys splash around in the frigid Pacific. “Why are you still with Gavin? I know I tell you to break up with him all the time, but seriously: break up with him. You’re obviously miserable. You’ve, like, lost weight and have crack-whore eyes.”
“Thanks for the confidence booster,” I say.
“Anytime.”
I lean my head on Beth’s shoulder and she wraps an arm around me.
“I’m trying to break up with him,” I say. “I promise. I really am.”
Beth shifts and brings her hands to my shoulders so that we’re face-to-face.
“The only reason you should stay with someone is because you make each other happy. Any other reason is bullshit.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get it, Beth—he almost died. The doctor said it was pure luck he made it. If we break up, who knows what he’ll do? I couldn’t live with myself if he—”
She throws up her hands. “Your job is not to keep Gavin Davis alive. That’s his job.”
I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.
“Like I told you before: you’re turning into Mom,” she says. “Can’t you see that? Gavin is your Giant. Your man is abusive and dangerous and one hundred percent insane. And you just take it.”
Tears fill my eyes. “This is some seriously tough love you’re dishing out.”
She shrugs. “I love you. And this shit has got to stop.”
I don’t call you to check in. I don’t even think about you, other than that talk with Beth. I imagine what my life in LA would be like, talking to cute, shirtless boys who live downstairs, meeting up with friends on the quad between classes. I picture getting on a plane bound for Paris, taking classes at La Sorbonne.
We’re standing in line for cookies at Diddy Riese, this famous place near UCLA, and Nat hooks her arm with mine.
“I haven’t seen you this happy in a year,” she says.
“I know,” I admit.
Other than with Gideon, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. I can’t remember not freaking out that you’d see me having a conversation with another guy. I haven’t looked over my shoulder once, worrying that you’re around to catch me doing something that will piss you off.
This trip does something to me. It gives me a peek into the future. This is what life could be like without you.
It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s not bad at all.
THIRTY-NINE
You are so mad that I decided to go to prom without you. You refused to go because you’re twenty and I’m not going to a fucking high school dance and I refused to not go.
“Fine,” you say. “Go find that little fucker in his tux—”
“Gavin, like I’ve told you a million times, if I wanted to cheat on you, I could have. So what does it matter if I go to prom and he’s there?”
“You’ll dance with him, for one.”
“No, I won’t, because he has his own date. Her name is Susan and—”
“So the only reason you wouldn’t dance with him is because he has a date.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I say. “You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“Look, I don’t want to argue anymore. I’m just saying, shit happens on prom night and that’s why I want to keep you close, okay?” You look down at me, slightly paternal. “I’m sorry if I’m not comfortable with the possibility of my girlfriend screwing some guy because she had too much to drink and he looked good in his tux.”
“I only drank that one time!” I yell.
“At HIS house,” you say. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that. Your first time should have been with me.”
“I’m well aware of the fact that I have a boyfriend and that means something to me, like not screwing other guys on prom night. Jesus, Gavin!”
“Are you really gonna do this?” you say, quiet.
“It’s my senior prom. You’re welcome to come. If not, I’m going without you.”
You stare at me, dumbfounded, then jump into your car, a new Dodge Challenger that your parents surprised you with when you got out of Birch Grove. You’re lucky they didn’t suspend your license after the DUI you received when you woke up in the hospital.
“Find your own way home,” you say before peeling off.
I wait until you’re out of sight and then I jump up, a fist in the air. I did it. I fucking DID IT!
I walk the two miles home from the Pot, grinning the whole time.
*
NOW I’M POSING with my best friends and Lys’s girlfriend, Jessie, grinning for the photographer. We’re standing in a little chorus line, holding one another’s waists. He takes the picture when we’re all mid-laugh.
“I love that the photographer thinks you guys are lesbians, too,” Lys says when we’re done. “Best group photo ever.”
I give Nat a big smacking kiss on the cheek. She’s the best prom date a girl could ask for. I was planning on flying solo, but Kyle got the stomach flu at the last minute, so Nat and I decided to be each other’s dates.
The four of us move away from the prom backdrop. The theme is Arabian Nights, so it looks like we’re on the set of Aladdin. Star-shaped lanterns hang over the dance floor and there are pretty cutouts of elegant windows surrounding the room. The hotel ballroom is packed.
A slow song comes on and we all go onto the dance floor. Nat and I do a tango while Jessie and Lys get all cute and cuddly.
“I love that they met on our Oregon trip,” says Nat, with a nod to our friends.
“Yeah,” I say, soft. Thinking about that trip always hurts a little.
Perfect timing: I catch sight of Gideon near the refreshments table and my heart lurches. As if he can sense me, he turns his head and his eyes find mine.
“Who are you—” Nat says, turning around. “Oh.”
I give a little wave, then look away. I don’t know if he waves back.
“You should talk to him,” Nat says. “Clear the air, you know?”
I shake my head. “I treated him like such shit.”
“So go over there and say you’re sorry.”
“Empire State of Mind” comes on, and just hearing the lyrics makes my eyes fill with tears: In New York, these streets will make you feel brand-new, these lights will inspire you. Nat wraps her arms around me.
“I’m sorry about NYU,” she says.
“Me too.”
I should never have let you push me into not applying.
“It’s my own damn fault,” I mutter.
“Yeah. But it still sucks,” she says. Nat pulls away. “Bright side: we’ll be in the same state!”
I nod. “It’ll be great—we can pretend to hate each other during football games.”