Clever Girl

Chapter 43: Necessary Lies

"How exactly do you expect me to react to this, especially after your comment. . .  about everything you've done for me? I'm not a charity case." I try to keep my tone as light as possible, while still attempting to maintain a bit of control over situation.

"I don't think you're a charity case."

"Don't you? What else am I supposed to believe? Everything that's happened between us . . . you keep doing these things, like always showing up at my house uninvited. And you have issues with the only friend I've made. Not to mention the fact that everyone found out about . . . about how I downplayed everything, all because of you. Then you told Cranston I was dropping out. And now this? What were you hoping to get out of it?" 

While I'm veering slightly off-topic, it feels good to get everything off my chest.  For the donation itself, the most logical assumption is that I would've become irritated and flat out refused it. But then I'd be selfish. It's hard for me to grasp the fact that one can receive something for nothing. As the notion of cosmic balance reveals itself in my conscience again, I'm left confused, worried, like the ground beneath my feet is about to break apart any second. I might've felt like I was in his debt, that I had to date him, be his girlfriend, or whatever else he wanted of me.  

"Hey, people finding out the truth about you had nothing to do with me. That was all on you. For everything else-" He stops, looks as if he's carefully weighing out what he's about to say, then continues, "-for telling Cranston you're quitting, and for showing up places you didn't want me to be, I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted was to make you resent me. But I'm not sorry for the donation, or for what I think of that psycho."

"Will's not a psycho." I try to read his face, the slight narrowing of his piercing blue eyes, the down-turned discomfort of his lips - but then I think it best to step back. "I . . . I need some time to process this."

"Sure, take all the time you need. Take forever, princess." There's definite sarcasm and a bit of hostility in his voice now. 

"Don't do that. Don't act like this is such a burden for you. I didn't ask for your help," Calm down, Veronica. Remember, your mother's medical bills have all been paid. Just focus on that. But I can't calm down. "My family isn't a tole for you to pay to be with me. If the donation was random and happened to go to my mother, it would be different. But now it's like you're trying to buy me through her illness."

There is a slight rush of anger that appears on his face, "That's what you think of me? That I did this just so you'd be with me?" Are there tears in his eyes or is it just my mind playing tricks on me. Maybe reflecting my own impending tears back to me. 

"I don't know what to think. And your attitude is just making everything more difficult.  Stop calling me princess." I begin walking back towards the entrance, with tears still in my eyes and a lump in my throat the size of a baseball. 

Jay rushes ahead and steps in front of me, "Okay, I'm sorry. Will you please hear me out?"

"Why should I? Why did all of this even happen? There was no proper build-up for any of it. Like going from enemies to sort of getting along, to friendship, then to . . .  But you don't make sense. One day you kiss me out of nowhere, and now I'm supposed to, what, take the money as if it's not a big deal? As if you didn't just change my entire life?" That's the cold, hard truth. That my life has been forever changed. How am I supposed to wrap my head around such a concept, when not long ago it was like I was living in an alternate reality? "I was supposed to stop talking to you.  I made a promise this would be over. How am I supposed to walk away from you now?"

"Do you really think I like being hung up on you? You won't even tell me you're not into me - if you did then maybe I'd be able to move on."

Maybe telling him I don't like him has always been a necessary lie. Everything from the moment the tutoring sessions began to this very second is my fault. I made a pact with myself many times that I would stop with these interactions, and yet I keep falling back into the same patterns. The same conversations. The same arguments and conclusions.

Before I can gather my thoughts and respond, he steps close, "Look, it just happened. I saw you one day, and I fell for you.  I've done everything I could think of to make you happy, to make you stop second-guessing everything and just accept that for whatever reason, here we are. I told you before, I wanna take care of you, even if I have to stay here forever. In this maybe, would-be reality you've decided for us."

It's strange having someone be this concerned about me. Someone other than my parents. I don't know if it's only the result of some unexplainable attraction he has for me, or if he truly and completely cares about my wellbeing. "Goddamn it, Jay. Why do you keep trying when I treat you like this?"

"Maybe I'm a masochist," he says, with the tiniest of smirks on his lips. 

"Maybe you should get help for that." I cross my arms across my chest, maybe as a sign of wanting to keep him out. "You shouldn't have done this. Not for me. I wish . . . I wish it had come from someone I didn't know, because now I feel stuck."

"It's done, Veronica. I can't take it back, and I don't want to. I'm going to wait for you. How many times do I have to say it? Unless you tell me right now that you're not into me, I'll wait. And I didn't do it so you'll feel obligated. It was supposed to be anonymous, so leave it at that."

Necessary lies can sometimes save someone from pain. A lie in and of itself may seem wrong, but when told to protect a feeling, to extinguish a hope that should not exist, then is it really wrong? 

I look into those piercing blue of his. I consider his words, and the meaning behind every phrase and every syllable. The weight of his actions, and the possible reactions that could occur tomorrow, next week, even a year from now. I take in one straining breath, and I hope that what I'm about to say doesn't take away the relief my family has felt in the last few days. That it won't make me regret everything. I turn away, "I'm sorry, Jay. I'm. . . I'm not into you."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. Maybe I did like you before, but whatever it was I felt is . . . is now gone," I say, still not facing him. 

"Then why won't you look at me? If you're telling the truth then look me in the eye and say it again."

I bite my lip and scowl.  I'm trying to loosen the strings and let it all fall before the knots get tighter, but he's not making it easy. Hoping he's not able to read the hesitation and deceit in my eyes, I look at him - "I'm not into you."

He doesn't say anything, probably attempting to find a trace of deception in my expression. From one moment to another, the defeat appears very clearly on his face, and his shoulders drop. I wish I had never let it get to this point - that I had been brave enough and mature enough to tell this lie months ago. The more you let something go on, the harder it will be to move on from it. Whatever it may be. Instead, I had to be selfish and drag him along, as if his feelings didn't matter and I was the only one affected by it.

The tension between us breaks when he moves back and walks away, not saying another word to me.