The Way Things Change

Waiting Game

Days passed. Then weeks. The silence between Betty and me felt endless. Each day I woke up hoping for a text, a call, something to break the void, but my phone stayed silent. I kept telling myself that she just needed time, that space was what she asked for. But every passing day made it harder to hold on to hope.

Summer was beginning to fade. The days were still long, but the sun wasn't as harsh anymore. The familiar buzz of excitement that came with the start of a new school year was creeping in, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Everything felt dull without Betty.

Noah had been a constant, checking in, dragging me out of the house when I got too deep in my head. But he didn't push me to talk about Betty. He knew better than that. Everyone else, though—they were still talking. The rumors hadn't died down as much as I'd hoped. Every now and then, I'd catch someone whispering about me and Augustine, the party, and everything that had followed.

I did my best to ignore it, but it was like the town was holding onto that night longer than anyone involved actually wanted to. Augustine kept her distance, too. I hadn't heard from her since the night Betty and I talked in the park, and honestly, I was relieved. I didn't know what I'd say to her if she reached out. Probably nothing that wouldn't make things worse.

One afternoon, Noah convinced me to hit the skate park with him. It had been a while since I'd been on my board, and the distraction was better than sitting at home, staring at my phone. We skated for hours, the hot asphalt under our wheels, the wind rushing past our faces. For the first time in days, I felt almost normal again.

After a while, we sat on the edge of the half-pipe, sipping on sodas from the corner store and watching the younger kids take turns trying to land tricks.

"Feeling better?" Noah asked, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

I shrugged. "I guess. It's just... hard, you know? Not knowing where I stand with her."

"Yeah," Noah said, nodding. "But she's gotta come to her own decision. You did what you could."

"I know," I said, staring at the ground. "I just hate waiting. I want to fix things, but I don't know how."

Noah was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Sometimes you can't fix things right away. Sometimes you just have to let people figure out their own stuff. It sucks, but that's the truth."

He was right, of course. I couldn't force Betty to forgive me, couldn't make her trust me again on my timeline. But the uncertainty was killing me. Every day without her felt like a reminder of how badly I'd screwed up.

"Have you heard anything from her?" Noah asked carefully, trying not to push too hard.

I shook my head. "Nothing. She said she'd talk to me when she was ready, but it's been weeks now. I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad one."

Noah didn't say anything, just nodded, his face thoughtful. He didn't have any easy answers, and I didn't expect him to. This was something I had to face alone.

---

That night, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind racing as it usually did in the quiet of the dark. What if Betty had already made up her mind? What if she had decided we were done, and she just didn't know how to tell me? The thought sent a jolt of panic through me, but I forced myself to calm down. I couldn't spiral. Not now.

I grabbed my phone and scrolled through our old messages, trying to remember how easy things used to be between us. Every joke, every late-night conversation—it was all still there, frozen in time, a reminder of what we had before I blew it. I missed her so much it hurt.

Just as I was about to put my phone down, it buzzed in my hand. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw her name flash across the screen. For a second, I didn't move. I just stared at it, half afraid I was imagining things.

But it was real. Betty had texted me.

"Can we talk tomorrow?"

I sat up, my heart racing, and quickly typed a response.

"Yeah, of course. What time?"

She replied almost instantly.

"Meet me at the park. Same time."

The park again. Our spot. It was like that place had become the only place where we could have these hard conversations. I sat there for a few minutes, my heart still racing, trying to figure out what this meant. Was she ready to forgive me? Or was this the talk where she'd tell me we were really over?

Either way, I had no choice but to face it.

---

The next day, I got to the park early, again. The oak tree felt familiar now, but the kind of familiar that made my chest ache. The last time we'd sat here, Betty had been so calm, so distant. It had been hard to tell what she was thinking. Now, I was about to find out.

She showed up right on time, walking toward me with that same quiet grace she always had. For a second, I let myself just look at her. Her long hair was tied back in a loose braid, and she was wearing the old Converse sneakers she always wore when we went for walks in the park. It was such a simple thing, but it made my heart twist, remembering all the times we'd been here, happy.

Betty didn't say anything at first. She just sat down beside me, her hands resting in her lap. I could feel the tension between us, but this time, it wasn't as sharp as before. There was something softer about her now, like maybe she'd made peace with some of the things she'd been holding onto.

"I've been thinking a lot," she said after a long silence, her voice quiet but clear. "About everything. About us."

I nodded, my throat tight. "Yeah, me too."

Betty didn't look at me. She kept her eyes on the ground, her fingers fidgeting with the bracelet on her wrist. "You really hurt me, James," she said, her voice cracking just a little. "I didn't think you'd ever do something like that."

I opened my mouth to apologize, but she kept going.

"I've been trying to figure out if I can get past it," she said. "If I can forgive you."

My heart dropped. I braced myself for the worst, but then she took a deep breath and turned to face me.

"I think... I want to try," she said, her eyes searching mine. "I don't know if things will ever be the same, but I want to give us a chance. If you do."

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. I hadn't expected this. Not really. I'd hoped for it, but I didn't let myself believe it could actually happen. Now that it was, I didn't know what to say.

"Of course I do," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I want to fix this, Betty. I'll do whatever it takes. I just want to be with you."

Betty smiled, but it was a sad, cautious smile. "It's going to take time, James. I can't just forget what happened. You have to prove to me that I can trust you again."

"I will," I promised, the words coming out fast, desperate. "I'll do whatever you need. I just—I'm so sorry, Betty."

"I know," she said softly. "But it's not about just saying sorry. You have to show me."

"I will," I said again, more certain this time.

We sat in silence after that, the tension between us easing slightly but still there, like an invisible wall we'd have to work to tear down. I didn't know how long it would take or if we'd ever truly get back to what we had before. But the fact that she was willing to try—that was enough for now.

Betty stood up after a while, brushing off her jeans. "I need to go. But... I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay," I said, standing up too.

She gave me a small nod, and for the first time in weeks, there was a tiny glimmer of hope in her eyes. It wasn't much, but it was something. And I'd hold onto it with everything I had.

As I watched her walk away, I felt lighter than I had in a long time. The road ahead was still uncertain, but at least now, we were on it together.