Memory Lane

Part 17: Puddle

"Give up. She won't like you back. If she did, she would have dumped Harry."

I winced. It was the truth, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"She doesn't hate me." You might have after what I said to you, but he didn't need to know that.

"But she won't give him up for you. Especially with how her parents are."

"She won't leave me. Not if she can help it." I knew your folks were strict, but I thought he was being ridiculous.

"They won't let her see you if they knew how you felt," he warned. "You wouldn't want to get involved with that family."

I thought about the screams I heard on the nights you came over. It was too late to be uninvolved. Your mother knew my name. I already saw the life-size figurine of Jesus Christ impaled on the cross in your living room.

"Her family doesn't have to know. Only she needs to see how I feel."

Not that there could be a more obvious way to show you beyond the nights we spent together. But it was hardly appropriate that I make grand gestures of affection. I don't know how your boyfriend would react to huge declarations of love, especially coming from me.

He looked at me sometimes, like he understood the way I stared at you. I didn't know what you told him about me, but sometimes he would wave hello, friendlier than you were in those days. It was awkward, hating the boy who was nice to me. I truly picked the perfect guy for you to date.

In that sense, I was the architect of my own demise. I helped to set the couple up. You wouldn't have known who Harry was if I never said his name.

"How long have you liked her?"

"Forever," I said, unable to think of words more suited to my feelings.

"Even during that date?"

It felt like eons ago since Harry picked us up in his car for the movies.

"Especially during that date."

I was being strangely honest with Evan. Over time, he became a friend I could trust. Or maybe I was just too used to his presence, in the way people associate a sense of ease with a tree they see every day. He made me feel comfortable, which I needed.

He nodded sagely, falling into the role of armchair therapist. He was hearing a lot about my feelings, inadequacies, and hopes. I apologized countless times for unloading so much on him, but he assured me that he didn't mind.

After all, what were friends for? His words, not mine.

"Was I there because she wanted to go on a double date with you?"

I searched his face for any sign of hurt but only found curiosity. I noticed, with relief, that whatever feelings he had for me before disappeared.

"Basically. She wanted me to give you a chance because she saw that you liked me."

"But you don't like boys." There was a wry smile on his face.

"No. I don't think I can like boys. It's never been in me."

"What about Charlie?"

"Who?"

"You know, that guy everyone liked in the fourth grade?"

A boy with brown hair and green eyes came to mind. "Ah. Him. I just said that because all of the girls had crushes on him."

"Really?" A guilty expression crossed Evan's face.

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason. You were saying that you can't like boys." He gestured for me to continue.

Why do I get the feeling that Evan did something terrible to him? I waved the thought away. Charlie moved to Oregon a few years ago so no one knew what he was like these days anyway. He was one of a few fake crushes I had made up to seem like a normal girl. I never thought anyone was truly listening when I said those boys' names.