The Way Things Change

Silence

The days that followed were the longest of my life. After that conversation in the park, Betty stopped responding to my texts, stopped picking up my calls. It was like she had disappeared from my life completely, leaving nothing but the weight of my guilt and regret behind.

I tried to go about my days like normal, but everything felt off. The summer heat that once felt freeing now felt suffocating. The park, once a place of peace, was now filled with memories that stabbed at me every time I passed by. I couldn't escape it. I couldn't escape her.

Every morning I woke up with the same tight feeling in my chest, checking my phone for a message that never came. I would type out long, rambling apologies and then delete them, unsure of what could possibly make this right. Part of me thought about showing up at her house, but I didn't know if that would make things worse. Would she even want to see me?

One afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore. I biked to her house, my heart pounding the entire way there. Betty's house was quiet, her parents' car in the driveway, but no sign of her. I stood on the front porch for a solid five minutes, my hand hovering over the doorbell, trying to summon the courage to ring it. I had no idea what I was going to say if she answered. No idea if she would even want to hear it.

In the end, I chickened out. I got back on my bike and rode home, feeling worse than ever.

The summer days began to blur together after that. Noah tried to get me out of the house a few times, but I wasn't in the mood. He didn't ask questions, didn't push me, which I appreciated, but I could tell he knew something was up. He'd heard about the party, about me and Augustine. Everyone had.

Even Augustine stopped reaching out. I think she sensed how messed up things had gotten, and maybe she felt guilty in her own way. Or maybe she didn't care. Either way, I was on my own.

As the days passed, I started to wonder if Betty and I were really done for good. Part of me refused to believe it. We'd been through so much together. This couldn't be the end of everything. But another part of me—the part that kept replaying the way she looked at me when she walked away—told me that maybe it was.

Maybe I had ruined everything beyond repair.

---

One evening, about a week after I'd last seen Betty, I finally got a call from Noah. He wanted to hang out, and I couldn't keep dodging him forever. When I showed up at his house, he was sitting in his backyard, sipping a soda and tossing a football up in the air.

"Hey, man," he said as I sat down in the chair next to him. "You've been a ghost lately."

I shrugged, not knowing what to say. I wasn't exactly in the mood to talk about everything, but I knew Noah wasn't the type to let it go.

"So, are you gonna tell me what's going on, or am I supposed to just guess?" he asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp. "Everyone's been talking about what happened with Augustine."

I grimaced, leaning back in the chair and rubbing my temples. "I messed up, Noah. Big time."

He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, I figured. Augustine's not exactly known for making things easy."

"It's not her fault," I said quickly, though the words felt heavy. "I mean, yeah, she kissed me, but I didn't stop her fast enough. And now Betty..." My voice trailed off as I thought about her again, the way she had looked at me in the park, like I was a stranger.

Noah didn't say anything for a minute, just tossed the football in the air again, catching it absentmindedly. Finally, he sighed. "Betty's a good person, James. She's gonna need some time, but she's not the type to just write you off without thinking it through. If you're honest with her, if you really show her you're sorry, maybe you can work things out."

I wanted to believe that, but it felt like a long shot. I wasn't sure if Betty could ever forgive me, or if I even deserved it. But still, I couldn't stop thinking about her, couldn't stop hoping.

"Maybe," I said, though my voice didn't sound very convincing.

Noah glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. "You're gonna have to do more than 'maybe,' dude. Sitting around feeling sorry for yourself isn't gonna fix anything."

He wasn't wrong. I had been sitting around, wallowing, avoiding the hard truth. But the thing was, I didn't know what the next step was. I didn't know how to reach out to Betty without making things worse. I didn't know how to prove to her that I wasn't the guy who would just throw everything away on a whim.

"I don't even know where to start," I admitted, running my hands through my hair. "What if I say the wrong thing? What if I just mess it up even more?"

"You're gonna mess up, that's just part of it," Noah said with a shrug. "But you can't fix things if you don't try. You gotta face it head-on, man. Tell her how you feel, explain what happened. At least then you'll know you tried."

I knew he was right. I had to try. Even if it meant hearing Betty tell me we were done, even if it meant knowing I'd lost her forever, I had to face the truth. Because not knowing was worse. Living in this limbo, this silence, was eating me alive.

"Yeah," I said finally, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

I spent the rest of the night thinking about what I was going to say to Betty. Rehearsing conversations in my head, imagining different ways it could go. But no matter how many scenarios I played out, the end result was always the same—I needed to see her. I needed to talk to her, face-to-face, and be honest.

So the next morning, I sent her a text.

Can we talk? I know I messed up, but I need to explain.

I stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. Minutes passed. Then hours. The entire day slipped by with no response, and my heart sank deeper and deeper with every passing second. I was starting to lose hope when, just before sunset, my phone buzzed.

Meet me at the park tomorrow. Same time.

My heart skipped a beat. It wasn't much, but it was something. A chance. That was all I needed.

The next morning, I got to the park early, sitting under the oak tree with my hands shoved deep into my pockets. I was nervous, more nervous than I'd ever been, but I knew I had to do this. I owed it to her. I owed it to us.

When Betty finally arrived, her face was calm, but her eyes held the same guarded distance I'd seen that day in the park. She sat down beside me, not saying anything for a long moment, and I could feel the tension building between us.

I took a deep breath. This was it.