Once When You Were Mine

Chapter Ten

                                               "I don't ever want to feel like I did that day..."

                                                                   - Red Hot Chili Peppers

It was getting ridiculous. It had been two days since our fight, and Austin still wasn't talking to me. We were both deeply stubborn people and if one of us didn't cave in and apologize, we'd probably never speak to each other again. At first I was adamant about not apologizing, but I was starting to have second thoughts. I missed my best friend.

This in mind, I scanned the library at lunch, looking for Austin. He hadn't eaten with us in the cafeteria for the last two days, and I figured he might be hiding out here. I recognized his black backpack sitting on a table, his books spread out around it. On his notebook was a Walkman. Among Austin's mysterious actions these past weeks was his fixation on his Walkman. It was an almost constant companion lately. When we'd work on homework, he would listen to it and sometimes rewind a certain song several times, as if committing it to memory. It was something I could understand. Sometimes I'll find a certain song that embodies how I'm feeling at the moment, that expresses my feelings in words that I can't, or don't know how to find. It was like listening to Peter, Paul and Mary singing "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" after I broke up with Rob, or the snippets of memory that "Your Wildest Dreams" evoked. It was one of those things that I knew Austin understood about me.

I remember going though my Dad's record collection once. "How come you never play any of these?" I'd asked him. "Don't you like music?"

"Sure, I like music," he had shrugged. "I used to buy records all the time. I'd listen to them once and say 'that was very nice' and then put the record away and never listen to it again. I guess I never saw the need to listen to them more than once. Eventually I just stopped buying music."

"You're a weird guy, Dad," I'd said, shaking my head.

Looking around to make sure Austin wasn't in view, I slipped his head phones on, rewound the tape a bit, and pressed play. John Lennon sang plaintively about having to hide his love away.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" Austin pulled his earphones off my head and stopped the Walkman.

"I was just curious what you were listening to. Jeez, you're awfully touchy lately." I got up from his seat.

"In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm mad at you."

"Why? What the hell did I do?"

"If you haven't figured it out yet, then you're denser than I thought," he said coldly.

"Figure what out? We were fighting over a stupid physics problem." I was having a hard time keeping my voice down.

He just looked at me sadly, shook his head, sat down and put his headphones back on, dismissing me.

I sank down in the chair next to him and sat there, head in hands, unsure whether to cry or to tell him to go to hell, the way he had me.

"Please, tell me what I did," I finally said softly. "I don't understand. We always fight, but you've never frozen me out before."

"It's nothing you can fix."

"You won't even let me try. How can I, if you won't tell me?"

"I shouldn't have to tell you, that's the problem." He pushed the stop button on the Walkman.

"Austin, I can't read your mind." My eyes were starting to water and I was afraid the tears were going to come soon.

"You used to be able to," he said softly, finally looking me. "We never used to need to spell everything out because we always knew what the other was thinking. But I guess that's all changed now."

"Well, if you won't tell me, then where do we go from here? I can apologize, but I won't know what I'll be apologizing for, which will just leave things between us even more strained, because you'll wonder if I really meant it or if I was just trying to smooth things over."

"The thing is, I can't tell you." Austin said uncomfortably. "Because if I do, if I tell you what's bothering me, I won't ever be able to take it back. Meg, I don't want anything to come between us, least of all my inability to carry on a normal friendship. You're my best friend. And I've already acted like a total jerk about Nate." He grimaced. "I feel like I'm losing you, and that scares the hell out of me. It's like you're slipping away and the tighter I try to hold on... God that's so cliché." He ran his hands through his hair.

"You're not going to lose me, Austin," I said, trying to reassure him, but not having the right words, not knowing how to say something that wouldn't sound like it came from a TV show. "You'll always be my best friend, I'll always want you in my life..."

"You can't make any guarantees. You know that. Maybe one day you won't want me here. Maybe one day you'll think I'm in your way – kind of like now. I'm in the way of you and Nate, and sooner or later you're going to resent my presence. That is, if you aren't already." He looked down. "And I know that that's my fault. I haven't been very nice to be around lately. I've been acting like a jealous boyfriend." He snorted. "But I'm not, am I?"

"Jealous or my boyfriend?"

The bell rang, saving him from having to answer me. He jumped up, relief evident on his face. "I have to go to class, physics calls!" He started shoving his things into his backpack.

"So are we at least going to be on speaking terms again?" I grabbed his arm before he could make his getaway.

"Of course." He patted my shoulder and left. I should have felt better, but I still wasn't at ease with the situation. Although on the surface it seemed that everything was back to normal, I knew that we had still left things unresolved. I cursed the morning bell all the way to first period. I was getting sick of having to portion out my conversations between bells, being constantly interrupted, never being able to resolve anything, being forced to stew for a whole period or more over unfinished business.

At any rate, I was glad we were on speaking terms again. Dave and I were throwing a surprise birthday party for Austin in only three days. If would be kind of unpleasant to throw a party for some you're not speaking to – or who's not speaking to you.