When We Were Good

Chapter 25

After Josie's set we all sat around talking for a little bit while she packed up her guitar and Marie said she was working up the courage to ask her for her phone number. My stomach ached like it was slowly filling up with stones.

Any time I looked at her or Ivan, Chantal gave me a weird hands-off look, so I didn't talk to either of them—not that I even would have wanted to—and said I had to go get a glass of water from the bar. Marie took that as her cue to tackle Josie, and I got back to the couch, glass in hand, only to see Josie scribble something out on a piece of paper, hand it to Marie and kiss her on the cheek, before going to talk with a group of her friends, some of whom I recognized as members of Falter.

My stomach was so heavy I couldn't move.

"You really got her number?" I asked Marie, who looked about ready to swoon, when she came back to where we were sitting.

"I know!" she said. "Isn't it amazing? Do you think I might actually have a shot with her?"

"No, I said, still in shock.

"She's hot," said Ivan. "If you're not going to call her I'll totally take her number."

"That's gross," Chantal said, "she's obviously into Marie."

"I don't know," I said. "You're so much younger than she is. She probably just thinks you're a cute little fan girl."

Marie frowned. "She's only twenty-five," she said. "That's only, what seven years difference? My step-dad's seven years older than my mom."

"That's totally different." Like, how didn't she see how weird this was?

"I think it's cool," Chantal said. "Good for you. Let's just hope it goes better than the last time you fell for an older girl. That university chick totally smashed your heart, didn't she?"

"I got over it," said Marie.

"I'm just saying," I said, "I think it's kind of weird."

"What's your problem?" Marie asked.

"Nothing," I said, feeling heavier than a pyramid of bowling balls. "Can we go now?"

"Aren't there, like, other acts playing?" Chantal asked, looking around the room.

"Whatever," I said, "I saw what I needed to see. I'm going."

"Me too," said Ivan.

"All right, fine. I'm going to stick around, though," Chantal said. "See you guys later."

So Ivan, Marie and I walked out together, and Ivan was trying to talk me into taking the streetcar home with him which was, like, the last thing I wanted to do. And I was surprised he still had any interest in me given how things had gone down the last time, but it seemed like he'd been drinking again so Marie and I walked him to the streetcar stop and I told him we were going a different way. We said goodbye and he tried to hug me, but I moved out of the way and instead he stumbled and nearly fell off the curb and into the street.

As we watched the streetcar doors close and the car roll off, Marie said, "God, he's a nightmare. So really, what the hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing," I said, "it's really nothing."

"Shut up with that," she said, "why are you acting so weird about me hitting on Josie? Are you really just that worried about me dating an older girl? Because I've done it before, it's no big deal. Like, age is really isn't this big thing we make it out to be. If you think about how everyone learns in their own time, and how we're all socialized differently and everything and—"

And half because I'd been dreaming about doing it non-stop for, like weeks, and half because I wanted to shut her up, I kissed her. Right there on the sidewalk. I kissed her and she kissed me back. For a second, anyway.

"Whoa," she said, pulling away, "I thought we were just friends."

"We are," I said. "I just—I just wanted to see."

Marie shook her head. "I didn't think you liked me that way. You never seemed to."

"I do, sort of."

"Wow," she said, "flattering. Look, this is weird. This is a bad idea. I'm getting you a cab."

Before I had the chance to protest, she flagged one down and put me in it. 

"You'll thank me for this later," Marie said as I closed the cab door. 

I turned around in my seat and watched through the backwindow while she got smaller and smaller as we drove away.I put my hand inside my purse and felt the sacred book. Ithadn't done shit to protect me. I put it on my shelf when I gothome. It was stupid to think that a book could save your life.

***

The next day was Monday and I wanted to skip but I couldn't stand the idea of spending the whole day by myself. Even facing Marie would be better than watching day-time TV and stuffing my face with junk food and then hating myself for it. Drama class had become even more of a joke since Mr. Neilson's breakdown, and I had a spare second period, but even thinking about sitting around the house in my underwear depressed me, and somehow school seemed like the more forgiving option.

I got dressed, took an apple out of the fridge—strangely enough, Mom had bought groceries the day before—and walked to school. Marie was waiting at my locker when I arrived.

"Hey," she said, "how are you?"

"The real answer?" I asked.

"Okay, I get it. I wanted to talk to you about last night so you understand why I did what I did. I mean, it isn't that I wasn't totally flattered. The kiss was unexpected, yeah, but it was sweet. But I don't think this is what's best for us. I think we need to just be friends, okay?"

"Yeah," I said, looking down at my shoes. "You're—I mean it wasn't exactly premeditated, but I get that you don't think we, that we wouldn't be good—"

"We're friends," Marie said. "Can we agree to each be the one drama-free spot in each others' lives? I mean, not that you're not allowed to have drama, you know, but just not to drive each other to desperation?"

And just a second before I opened my mouth to speak it occurred to me how unbelievably lucky I was that Marie had put up with me and still seemed to like me, that she trusted me, somehow, and wanted us to have the kind of friendship that makes both people feel loved and good. 

At least that's how it felt in that moment.

"Yeah," I said, "that would be good. I think I need that right now." And we hugged again, this time without tears.

When I got home that night I sat down at the computer to send Jack an email since I still hadn't replied to his message.

hey j,

nice to hear from you. i bought an eric's trip cd on your suggestion. you were right, i love them.

And then I couldn't think of what else to write. It seemed simple enough, and maybe it was easier to keep the message light, to not really say anything. Jack existed in a grey area of trust. Still, he'd reached out to me. He tried to care and to be good. Better late than never, right?

also (and it feels kind of weird for me to type this out, but I think I need to, so here goes):

i think i might be gay.

I highlighted what I'd just typed with my cursor and hit Delete. Then I typed it out again, just as I had before. Then I hit Send. After that I just sat there for a while. It was the best I'd felt in a really long time.