The Boy I Hate

Twenty Five.

In the late hours of the night - with tear stains on my cheeks and cuddled up on my couch - I told my mother everything. From start to finish I explained the prank war, the fake break up, and all the lies. The only thing I didn't tell her was about Margie, because it was clear to me she didn't want to be out yet. We sipped tea and hid under blankets. It was the first time since I was a girl a pleasant conversation with her had lasted this long. She didn't ask me to put my pinky up, or tighten my bun - she let me cry. Still, I didn't know if it was a fluke. Perhaps come morning she'd stick up her nose as usual. For now? She was the mom I'd always wished for.

"No wonder you've been acting so out of character," she analyzed.

I managed a weak laugh, "you're telling me."

She tilted her head. "Can I tell you what I think?"

I pressed my lips together. "As long as it's not something about being a lady."

She rolled her eyes. "I know you hate me, Mabel, but I am more useful for advice than you might realize."

I lifted my mug to her, as if to tell her to go on.

"You made the right decision - breaking up with Richard, I mean. You know I love the boy. I've always thought you two would end up married down the street, and maybe I still do. However, from what you've told me, it's clear he's yet to settle his priorities. Until he can value your commitment he doesn't deserve it."

I nodded along, afraid speaking would tarnish the newfound understanding of Margaret Faris Abram.

"But are you sure you're willing to be affiliated with this west side boy? It seems as though he's caused you nothing but grief."

I scoffed, "you know his name, Mother."

She rephrased, begrudgingly, "Charles. He's never been a good influence on you. Not since you were kids."

I laid my head back, dreading where this conversation was heading. "He's a good guy. You can't see it because of his zip code, but he is. Nothing he does is worse than what the kids here do."

"You lit the school on fire."

"It was an accident!"

She crossed her legs and breathed in heavily, "at this point I realize I'll never be able to keep you away from him. So I'll stop trying, if you comply with one condition." I raised a brow. "Bring the fellow, and the others, here for a dinner. I'd like to know who you're spending all this time with."

I sighed. "If he's willing to talk to me again, then sure."

She brushed a tear from my cheek. "Sounds like you two have managed to forgive worse."

The corner of my mouth lifted, "I think you're right."

She nodded, because of course she was.

"And for the record," I added, "I don't hate you."

•••

Despite the heart to heart with my mom, it was weeks before I even considered approaching Charlie. In some ways I felt like I had to tackle every issue at once, and because I wasn't ready to face Margie or Lily, I avoided them altogether. For days on end I spent all my nights doing homework and watching tv. My social life died with my breakup. It was probably for the best. I needed grieving time.

I was with Rich for so long. So long that not being with him felt foreign, despite the months of fake practice. For the whole weekend after the debutante ball I did nothing but cry. I took sleeping pills earlier than I should have, because when I was asleep I didn't have to feel anything. When I was awake I had to ignore his calls. I had to tear up pictures of us, and make my family send him away when he came over. At school I took every back hallway and side entrance I could not to see him. I knew I made the right decision to break up with him, but my heart hurt nonetheless.

Margie had only reached out once; in the form of a long letter explaining that she knew I'd come to her eventually. I appreciated her for that, which only strengthened the urge to forgive her. Her message explained that while she was the mole, the only reason she didn't tell me was because she was afraid to come out. I could understand that. Maybe this had all been as hard for her as it had been for me - in a different way.

Apparently, she only ever told Lily information, and not the others. Lily would just pass the it on. This way she didn't have to be affiliated with the west. After all, if her parents knew she was dating a girl - let alone a west side girl - they would lock her up in her room forever. The last two paragraphs of her essay of a letter read -

I thought about telling you so many times, but honesty is hard. Especially the type of honesty it requires to come out. Mabel, I've always known you would accept me. I've never doubted for a second that I could tell you I like girls and you would love me the same. Somehow, I still couldn't admit it; to you or myself. How was I to know that you wouldn't treat me differently? That - no matter how accepting you were - you would have to stop to remind yourself I was a lesbian before you pointed out a hot boy. Or get aggressively protective when somebody says something homophobic around me?

I guess I was afraid of change, but I'm not anymore. This feels good, Mabel. It feels good that you know, even though you're mad at me. I'm free, and I'm happy, but most of all, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you'll forgive me. Not because you're a push-over, not because you can't hold a grudge, but because you're kind. That's the best thing about you.

I finally - after weeks of moping around feeling sorry for myself - decided it was time to confront my friends.

I started with Margie and Lily; meeting them at a diner and having brunch. They told me their story. Apparently they met during school early in the year. Lily was scoping out East Port's football field to plan a prank when she ran into Margie under the bleachers. (Margie had a habit of skipping her last period before cheer practice to read there). They explained it to me as forbidden love at first sight. Margie had yet to come to terms with her sexuality - even in her own mind - but couldn't deny the pull she felt to Lily. Lily, on the other hand, had been out as Bisexual since freshman year. Yet, she still hid her feelings. She was afraid of loving anyone from the other side of the lake. They both showed up under the bleachers at the same time everyday just to see each other. And eventually...

It was a heart warming story, and after hearing it - along with a lot of other conversation - I forgave them. It would take me a while to warm up again, but I knew I could. How could I hate them for gong behind my back when I was doing the same thing to Margie? I thought about telling her the truth of my break-up with Richard at the diner, but someone else needed to hear it first.

When it came to Charlie, I wasn't looking to forgive, but rather, for forgiveness. I had misjudged him, and assumed the worst from him. I felt horrible for it too. Was that not exactly what I had hated him for doing to me all those years? I'd also come to a conclusion that now was the time to tell him the truth. The truth about mine and Richard's plan. 

I walked to his place a Sunday morning. When I knocked on the door and he opened it to see me, I couldn't read the look on his face.