What I Should Have Done ✓

Chapter 18

John pulled his silver BMW into the Jays' driveway in Westchester County late on Tuesday afternoon. We had gotten off school late this year, only two days before Thanksgiving, and had to be back on campus on Sunday, rendering the break shorter than usual, but it was what it was. I was secretly a little relieved in case I didn't feel comfortable at John's. As much as I was looking forward to meeting his family and getting to know him in a very personal setting, I would have still preferred to spend the holiday with Dad and Grampa had Dad not left me with little choice.

Liam hadn't taken the news well.

'Tell me I misheard that.'

'You didn't. John invited me to his place for Thanksgiving and I'm going.'

'Don't you want to see your mom and Elsie?'

'It's not up for discussion.'

'Why didn't you say anything? I would have invited you in a heartbeat.'

'I like the pace of our relationship. I don't want to rush things.'

'So you rush to say yes when a virtual stranger invites you to their home?'

'He's not a stranger, he's my friend.'

'You knew I'd be upset.'

'Yes.'

'And you still did it? Wow. Maybe it's really for the best that we spend a few days apart so we can think about how committed we are to this relationship.'

And by 'we', he meant me. I had had to promise him to stay in touch throughout the week—a reasonable condition. He was right: I had known this would cause him pain, and I had still done it. God, when did I become a person who walks around deliberately hurting people she cares about? A tight knot of thick, inky guilt sat in the pit of my stomach. Keeping him posted on the bourgeois adventures at the Jays' into whose neighborhood we were now turning was the least I could do.

The Jay home was located in a prototypical suburban dream with spacious houses painted in varying shades of white: eggshell white, snow white, icy white, ivory. I could picture a soccer mom and business dad at Lowe's or Bad, Bath & Beyond picking out their perfect shade of white from a pallet, convinced this was the eminent feature that would make their beautiful home stand out from the other, slightly less beautiful homes.

The front door was framed by two large pumpkins and cheerful leaf streamers in seasonal colors were slung around the canopy, as seen on every house on their street. Being from the countryside, I couldn't help but wonder if people felt trapped in this closely settled, cemented neighborhood. The pomp of the New York suburb made me shudder with its staged humbleness, its exaggerated welcomeness, its exclusivity. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but marvel at the movie-like atmosphere.

John pulled up in the driveway and parked in front of the garage. I bet their garage was full of stuff like John's childhood tricycle, balls and bats, and Christmas decorations in cardboard boxes labeled Ornaments etc.

"Are you ready to go in or do you want to stay here and stare for a while?" John's teasing snapped me out of my trance.

Only then did I realize I'd probably been sitting in his car for a good minute fascinated by the house. When I looked over, he was grinning at me. Blushing, I rolled my eyes and unfastened my seatbelt.

My fluster only made him laugh. "Come on," he said and leaned over me to open my door. Instinctively, I sucked in my stomach and held my breath, my heartbeat jumped into my throat. Only when he got out on his side did I take a deep breath. Get a grip, girl. I followed him to the trunk and was going to sling my big duffel bag over my arm when he took it from me and slid it over his own shoulder.