Never Have I Ever

Chapter 20

The lounge and kitchen are open-plan, light, airy and stainless steel. High-gloss white furniture decorated minimalistically, it’s the incarnation of Thomas in a room. Simple, functional but with some degree of grace and style. I approve.

I walk into the bathroom, which is bigger than I expected for a one-bed in a city. In L.A., my bathroom would be the size of shoebox. I’m really glad I didn’t have to pay the rent. The bathroom is tiled in pale blue and ice-white.

Speaking of rent, I walk out to the living room to see Thomas looking out the massive window.

“How much do I contribute to the rent? This much be a small fortune.”

“We own it.”

“Wait, what?”

“I inherited some cash. We paid off an apartment for when I ended up in college, and rented it in the meantime. I had to make it here or I wouldn’t have housing.”

“Nice. I’m gonna miss this place when I end up in New Haven.”

“Did you get an offer?” he asks, genuinely curious. I wish I could have the faith he has in me for myself. I wish I believed in myself the way he believes in me, because my life would be infinitely more optimistic. I always took him as a realist.

“Of course not,” I scoff, astounded at the idea that her thinks I’m special enough to pass through admissions at the most prestigious school in the country. “You think I’m that smart?”

“I think you could, if you applied your studies.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that. I need to call Admissions at Yale. check there’s still a place for a late decision.”

“If that’s what you want. I’m gonna miss you, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do, but it’s a new soundtrack. A new start. Another name change, for me. A chance to be normal. Or maybe be myself.”

“What do you mean? Haven’t you been yourself this whole time?”

“I’ve been acting the way I felt like I should be. I chose a stereotype and stuck to it. It’s easier to predict if you know the patterns. I like being easy to read, because it means they can understand exactly what they’re getting into. It makes my life easier.”

“So who are you, Titania?”

I note that he doesn’t call me Seraph, not now he knows what’s going on. Not now I’ve bared my existence to this boy. The one kind of thing I promised to myself I’d never do. Settle down, fall in love, have a life. Be a regular person but I know the answer to his question, I think, with brutal honesty.

“I don’t know. I’ve been lying for so long I don’t have any idea anymore. I’ve never been myself for long enough to find out. There’s always been something trying to alter my personality to fit them. I’ve never tried to be who I am. But if I had to say, judging by my past and everything I’ve done, I’m cruel, coldhearted, and a killer. Dead inside, but pretending otherwise for just a little longer.”

“Maybe you should say that in a different way, for old times’ sake. To remember.”

“Maybe sometime else when I’ve had enough time to get over it. When the time has passed and I can feel like I should be moving on. They say you only need three people you can rely on, to achieve self-actualisation. I’ve lost two of those within two days. I had four people I would trust with my life. Three of them are dead, and the other is standing beside me. Blood family isn’t everything, Thomas, even if that’s what you think. Remember, you friends are the family you choose for yourself.”

I think of all the things my blood family think I should do, and whether I should do them. Whether it would make me happy to do it. Will I achieve something with my myself, or is it something I’ve been pressured into I concentrate on listing the things I really want to do, and seeing where it matches up, I guess.

I should call at Yale.

I should try and make some more friends.

I should track down Celia’s parents and tell them about their daughter.

I should try and move on.

I should be myself.

I should do all these things.

But there’s too many barriers, too many blockades, too many obstacles. Too much to get over.

I should face my fears and move on.

But I’m too afraid to try.

I should move on with my life, but I’m content stuck in the past. As long as the past is my present.

I speak up, saying the fated words for the last time.

They say revenge is the ultimate closure. I would know that to be a lie. It isn’t. When someone’s killed your best friend, there’s ways of ultimate closure that aren’t murdering the perpetrator. Because what would you do if they were a suicide? If I go on a rampage, I’m no better than the person who killed my friends.

Everyone has things they’re ashamed of, and I include myself in that statement. We all have secrets buried within our innermost walls, and they define who we are, how we function, how we behave, how we relate to others.

Everyone is different, yet we’re all connected in a way that’s unexplainable yet it’s universally felt. Like the love you see at first sight, or the flash of recognition when you catch their eye. Everyone has it. You just have to find it.

Sometimes, the ultimate closure is just facing your fears and appreciating exactly what’s happened, and how you can fix it. It’s called closing all the doors without burning the bridges. Because when you burn the bridges, you don’t close the doors.

I speak the fated words for the last time, slamming the final door to the past, and opening one to the future.

“Never have I ever truly had a new beginning.”