folklore: the novel

13. peace

"Congratulations to our graduating class! You did it—and life only gets better from here!"

James catches Betty's eye in the crowd, amidst everyone clapping and the blue graduation caps gradually floating back to the ground, and he has to admit... life is already a lot better than it once was. So, even if what their principal said isn't entirely true, that's alright. James is learning to be content with what he has, to make the best of every single day, because his life is only as good as he makes it.

His therapist taught him that one. She's been teaching him a plethora of things in the three months since he started seeing her—including his unhealthy attachments to various things. Cigarettes, fighting with his dad, and... Betty.

It's been a work in progress but James considers it a tally in his column when Betty waves from her spot in the bleachers and Inez, who stands behind Betty with her chin on her shoulder and her arms wrapped around the blonde's waist, offers a tight, tentative smile of her own.

Yeah, that never would've happened half a year ago. Neither would him raising his hand to wave at them both in return, not a single angry, hateful thought in his head for the moment.

It's given him a world of peace, therapy, something he never imagined he could have and... He doesn't know that he ever would've convinced himself to do it without Betty. If she'd taken him back that night he showed up at her party, if she'd kissed him and let it all go, he's certain he eventually would've fallen back into the same pattern. It's shameful to think, but it's true.

Betty's insistence that he take care of himself played a role in his seeking help but also... the words of a brunette that snuck into his life from seemingly nowhere—a brunette that he desperately wants to find before the ceremony completely clears out, before he loses the opportunity.

Someday, you're going to regret sabotaging everything. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but some day you're going to be desperately miserable, all alone with no one to rely on because you've pushed them all away.

And... she was right. That day in the mall parking lot, with frustrated tears filling her eyes, Augustine was completely right. He didn't regret his words in that moment; he'd actually relished in the anger because he'd thought the anger was better than the hurt but... The hurt followed. In the absence of that ugly fury, it always followed and in all those weeks of being alone, he discovered he didn't like it. He didn't like being alone, but no one wanted to be around the person that he'd turned into.

So... he was doing his best not to be that person anymore. Not for Betty or Augustine or even his dad but... For himself. James owed it to himself to get better and have a real shot at happiness.

And, like Betty, he has Augustine to thank for that final nudge. But, also, an apology for putting her in the position to be that nudger.

But where—there.

"Augustine!"

At the gym doors, she pauses. For a second, James worries she's not going to stay, not going to wait for him, but... then she turns and doesn't flee even once she realizes he's jogging over to her.

Only... his feet get caught up in the fabric billowing around his legs and he nearly trips right into her smaller frame, barely catching himself in time.

"Sorry, these... these stupid gowns. I'm not used to wearing a damn dress and—"

And then a miracle happens. Augustine cracks a smile, a quiet laugh slipping past her full lips. "Some déjà vu we have, huh?"

James idly realizes that, yeah, this is where it really started for them. That night of the dance, they'd bumped into each other right here.

But he's not that same boy, and she's not that same girl.

"And thank God for that," she says and James realizes he said that last bit out-loud.

"How... how have you been?"

Augustine purses her lips, seeming to ponder the best answer. "I'm doing... good, actually. I've been working on saying 'yes' instead of 'no' and... on prioritizing myself more. I guess I can thank you for that bit of advice."

James flushes scarlet at the reminder of the awful things he said to her, both the thinly-veiled insults and the admission of his life story. But—another piece of advice from his therapist—he's learning not to dwell on the past, on things he can't change. Instead, he's learning how to consider the future and what he can do better from here on out.

"Seriously though, that's important. It's good to consider yourself, your own needs. As long as they don't... hurt the people around you, it's not necessarily a bad thing to be a little selfish with yourself." Augustine is nodding slowly, obviously unsure what to do with James' words, but he goes on with, "I hope you're able to find some peace here, Augustine. I think, out of all of us, you've especially earned it."

"Well, actually... Now that we've graduated, I don't think I'm going to be sticking around. I don't really have any reason to."

James doesn't ask about the redhead he's seen Augustine with more often than not—Dorothea, he thinks, is her name. Instead, he says, "You have any definite plans then?"

"I think I'm going to head back to my hometown actually. Maybe go to college for photography or film or..." She shakes her head, brushing a strand of her behind her ear. "Mom got moved here for a job and I followed, because why not, but... I've realized things weren't as bad back home as I once thought they were."

Because of him. Because he showed her just how bad things could actually be.

Don't dwell, he reminds himself.

"Yeah, getting out of this town doesn't sound like such a bad idea but..." James trails off. He'd really like to see his father through the remainder of his AA meetings and that would be hard to manage from a couple hundred miles away. "I've got some things I need to see through here first. But, hey, maybe fate will have us bumping into each other again someday."

Another laugh from her that makes James smile in return. The silence between them now is reminiscent of the wordless quiet that first night in her truck, driving to the water on that warm summer night. It's... nice. Comfortable in the way old friends turned almost-strangers can be with each other.

Augustine turns to go but hesitates once more, looking like she has something on the tip of her tongue but unsure if she should speak it. James doesn't push but he doesn't leave either, giving her the space to get whatever it might be off her chest.

"We were... something. Don't you think so?" she quietly asks.

James nods. No doubt they were something—he's just not quite sure what, and neither is she. Sadly, he can't give her the answer she was hoping for.

"Once upon a time, it would've been you. I wanted it to be you, James. But I think it's better for all of us that my wishes didn't come true. Take care of yourself."

Twice in his entire life he's heard that phrase. Take care of yourself. He thinks it just might be his favorite. No other phrase in the world would do. And while the journey here has been hell, it's slowly showed him heaven too. He wouldn't have it any other way.