Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between

  “No, I mean about Aidan.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to hear about that.”

  Stella glances over her shoulder with an impatient look. “Of course I do. I was just upset before. So I said some things. And so did you. But it’ll be a while before we see each other again, and I don’t want to leave it like that. So tell me. Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Clare says, leaning back against the counter. “Do I seem okay?”

  “Aside from the eye?”

  Clare presses a finger to her cheek and winces. “Forgot about that for a second.”

  “Well, it’s not gonna make it any easier to forget about Aidan.”

  “I think it was Scotty who got me, actually.”

  “Then I guess it won’t be easy to forget about him, either,” Stella says, hitting the start button and turning around. “I know it won’t for me, anyway.”

  “Do you have to?” Clare asks. “I mean, can’t you just…”

  “See how it goes?” she asks, giving Clare a funny look. “Come on. This from the girl who put together a whole scavenger hunt to decide the fate of her relationship.”

  “It wasn’t a scavenger hunt. Why does everyone keep calling it that?”

  “Whatever,” Stella says. “The point is… you needed an answer because you’re leaving tomorrow.” She glances down at her watch. “Today. You’re leaving today. And so am I.”

  “Yeah, but if you really like him…”

  “C’mon, Clare,” Stella says, wiping her hands on a towel. “Listen to yourself. Why would it be different for us? You and Aidan were together forever. This was just a summer thing. It wasn’t ever meant to last.”

  “But do you want it to?”

  Stella tilts her head back, gazing at the ceiling. “I’m not sure,” she says. “But there are a lot of possibilities besides stay together and break up, you know. Not everything has to be so black-and-white.”

  “Says the girl who only wears black.”

  Stella laughs. “You know what I mean.”

  The smell of coffee fills the kitchen as it starts to brew, bitter and warm, and Clare closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. She thinks, for a moment, about all the things her parents have been telling her this summer. How college is the first chapter of the rest of your life. The beginning of everything. The place where you meet your lifelong friends.

  Clare understands that this is supposed to be comforting. They’re just trying to be enthusiastic, assuring her that the best is yet to come. But it feels like what they’re saying is that everything she’s done up until now isn’t important enough to last. That all these years, all these memories—none of it actually counts. That it’s all just going to disappear behind her like a trail of bread crumbs. And only she knows the truth: that without it, she’ll be lost.

  Besides, she already has a lifelong friend, and it’s hard to imagine a better qualification for the title than having known someone forever.

  She opens her eyes again. “I’m gonna miss this.”

  Stella gives her an odd look. “Making coffee together in Scotty’s kitchen? I’m pretty sure we’ve never done this before.”

  “No,” Clare says. “You.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Stella says. “We both will. Everyone says you make fast friends in college.”

  “I don’t know,” Clare says. “I think I prefer slow friends.”

  Stella smiles. “Me too.”

  “That better not be a crack about me,” Scotty says, pushing open the screen door, and when his gaze lands on Stella, it lingers there. Watching him, watching them, Clare wonders how she hasn’t seen it before, this new closeness between them. There’s something reassuring about it, something that just seems to fit.

  “I’ll let you two finish up in here,” she says, smiling at Stella as she steps around Scotty, slipping out the door before they can object.

  Outside, she swats away the mosquitoes as she crosses the deck to find Aidan asleep on one of the lounge chairs, his head tipped to one side. Quietly, she lowers herself onto the chair beside him, lying curled on her side, so that when he jolts awake, it’s to find her face only inches from his.

  “No sleeping, remember?” she says, beaming at him.

  He sits up, still drowsy. “Why do you look like that?”

  “Like what?” she says, then points at her eye with a grin. “Oh, this? Probably because you punched me in the face.”

  “Not that,” he says, giving her a weary look as he swings his feet to the ground. “Why do you look so… happy?”

  “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I guess I just missed you.”

  He frowns at her. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Not long,” she assures him.

  Overhead, a plane flies past, and they track it across the sky, a little bead of light moving through the clouds, which are gauzy and gray against all the blackness. Clare sits up, facing Aidan so that their knees are touching in the space between the chairs.

  “So was this on the list?”

  She nods. “Any guesses?”

  “First time I opened a door for you?”

  She shakes her head.

  “First time we played footsie?” he says, nudging at her sandaled foot with his own.

  “Nope.”

  “First time I bought you a drink?”

  “Very funny.”

  “First time I… sneezed on you?”

  She laughs. “Maybe.”

  “First time you watched me throw up?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “First time I accidentally tripped you while walking behind you?”

  “Wow,” she says. “I never realized what a mess you are.”

  “Stop sweet-talking me,” he says, laughing, then he holds up a finger in the direction of the giant chestnut tree that forms a canopy over the other end of the deck. “I know. The first time we saw that owl with the glasses up there.”

  “It wasn’t wearing glasses, you clown,” she says, shaking her head. “It just looked that way because it was so dark.”

  “I’m pretty sure I saw a pair of specs,” he said. “But you believe whatever you want.”

  “I always do,” she says as he flops back onto the chair.

  “Okay, I give up. Just tell me.”

  Clare smiles. “It was the first time we talked all night.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Aidan says, sitting up again.

  “Remember how we completely lost track of time?”

  “And we both got in trouble for breaking curfew.”

  “Yeah, but it was worth it.”

  Aidan glances up at the sky. “Can you believe there was ever a time when there was so much we didn’t know about each other it filled up a whole night?”

  Clare frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that… to spend a whole night talking with someone is kind of a big thing. There was still so much we were learning about each other then.”

  “You don’t think we still have anything to learn?”

  “Not like at the beginning,” he says, swiping at a bug. “Not like we did then. But that’s a good thing. You know me better than anyone in my life ever has. It’s actually kind of crazy, when you think about it.” His eyes catch hers in the dark, holding her gaze. “It’s hard to imagine anyone else ever knowing me this well.”

  “But that’s the thing,” Clare says, looking away. “Somebody will. And then it’ll seem crazy to you that you once thought nobody would ever know you as well as that random girl you dated in high school.”

  He smiles, a little sadly. “You’ll never just be that random girl I dated in high school, you know. No matter what, even if we never talk to each other again, you’re still part of my story now—a big part—and I’m a part of yours. There’s no changing that.”

  “Yeah, but what if it’s true, what everyone’s been saying?”

  Aidan gives her a questioning look.

  “That our lives are only just begi
nning,” Clare explains. “What if one day we look back on this, and it’s just a hazy memory? What if you and me—all this—what if it’s not a big part of our story? What if it’s just the prologue?”

  “Oh, come on,” Aidan says. “The prologue is the best part. Everyone knows that.”

  “I guess.”

  “And you and me? We must be at least up to chapter four by now. Tonight alone has to be a whole chapter.”

  “You think?”

  “It is for me.”

  “Me too,” she says, and without thinking about it, she reaches out and takes his hand. He gives hers a little squeeze in return, and they remain there like that, sitting motionless on the edges of their chairs, their knotted hands dangling between them.

  “You know why I picked Stanford?” she asks softly, and Aidan lifts his chin. “Because I knew I’d never get in.”

  He furrows his brow, confused.

  “If I’d tried for somewhere easier on the West Coast, I was afraid that I might choose that, too.”

  Aidan’s smile is slow to emerge. “You know the most ridiculous part of this whole thing? Stanford isn’t actually anywhere near UCLA. And Harvard isn’t all that close to Dartmouth, either.”

  “So you’re saying I shouldn’t major in geography?”

  He laughs. “I’m saying we still would’ve had to drive hours to see each other. It still would’ve been a huge change. And it still would’ve been really hard.”

  “I’m glad we’re both going where we want to go,” she says, letting his hand drop. “I think it’s the way it’s supposed to be, you know?”

  “I know,” he says around a yawn, and Clare realizes her own eyelids are heavy, too.

  “Coffee,” she says, glancing behind her at the house. “Whatever happened to the coffee?”

  “Yeah, the service at this place is terrible,” Aidan jokes, rising stiffly to his feet. But when he looks over at the kitchen window, he freezes. “No way,” he says, his jaw hanging open for a second before he bursts out laughing.

  “What?” Clare asks, a little sleepily. But even before she catches sight of them through the window—Scotty and Stella locked in a kiss—she realizes what it must be.

  “Are you seeing this?” Aidan asks, shaking his head in disbelief. When he turns and sees her lack of surprise, he stares at her. “You already knew?”

  “I just found out.”

  “Dude,” he says with a smile, cuffing her playfully on the shoulder. “You’re supposed to tell me these things. How did this happen? How long has it been?”

  “Weeks,” Clare says. “It’s totally nuts. I have no idea how it started. I’ll have to get more details at some point.”

  Aidan shakes his head in wonder. “Scotty and Stella. I did not see that coming.”

  They both turn back to the window, where the two are no longer kissing, but their heads are still close together, and they look happy, happier than Clare can remember seeing either of them in a long time.

  “In a weird way,” she says, “I think it makes complete sense.”

  “Yeah?” Aidan asks, clearly still trying to catch up. “Is it just a fling? Or something more?”

  “I don’t think they know yet.”

  “Maybe they don’t have to,” he says, his eyes still trained on the window.

  “Yeah, but Stella leaves tomorrow. They’re gonna be a thousand miles away from each other. How could that ever possibly work?”

  “I don’t know,” Aidan says quietly. “Maybe they’ll just see how it goes.”

  “But that’s crazy.”

  “No crazier than an owl wearing glasses.”

  “This is much crazier,” she says, but in spite of herself, she’s smiling.

  When they turn back to the window, Scotty and Stella are no longer there. Clare stares at the empty space where they stood only moments ago, and she takes a long breath before looking back over at Aidan.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she says. “Maybe they’ll figure something out.”

  He puts an arm around her shoulders, and the familiar weight of it seems to anchor her right there on the deck, in the very place where he’d once opened a door for her, and where they’d once played footsie. In the place where he’d tripped her, and sneezed on her, and where she’d watched him throw up. In the place where they’d seen an owl that may or may not have been wearing glasses, and where they’d once spent an entire night getting to know each other.

  “Maybe this is just the beginning for them,” she says, and Aidan smiles.

  “Like I said… the prologue is the best part.”

  The Basement

  2:33 AM

  Outside in Scotty’s driveway, they stand in a circle, feeling the full weight of the moment. The time has come to say goodbye, but the words haven’t caught up just yet.

  A breeze sifts through the branches of the trees that lean close to the house, and a few leaves come twirling down. As she watches them in the glow of the floodlights from the garage, all Clare can think is: Another ending.

  Right now, together with her best and oldest friends in the deepest part of a late-summer night, she can think of only one thing harder: a new beginning.

  “Three months,” she says quietly, and nobody has to ask what she means, because they’re all thinking the same thing. Already, they’re counting the days until Thanksgiving, when they’ll all be together again.

  “That’s not so bad,” Stella says, wiggling her toes. She’s barefoot, and without her heels, she’s actually about the same height as Scotty, who is standing just beside her.

  Clare nods. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’ll fly.”

  They look at each other with watery smiles, and then Stella lunges at Clare, throwing her arms around her neck. “It’s been… sublime.”

  Clare smiles. “New word?”

  “New day.”

  “You know,” Clare says, her eyes filling as they hug one more time, “Beatrice St. James has nothing on you.”

  Stella laughs into her shoulder. “That’s for sure.”

  When they pull apart, they see Aidan and Scotty shaking hands, and then, after a pause, thumping each other on the back, before finally working their way up to a hug.

  “Don’t worry, dude,” Scotty says as he steps away. “I’ll be sure to look after your sister.”

  This time, it’s Stella who hits him, smacking him squarely across the chest so that his eyes widen in surprise. Aidan only laughs.

  “I think you’ve got your hands pretty full already,” he says, nodding at Stella, who gives him a little whack for good measure before diving in for a hug.

  “No comments from the peanut gallery,” she says into his shoulder, and he laughs again.

  “Fair enough. But just know that the peanut gallery is very happy for you.”

  Scotty skips across the driveway in Clare’s direction, a huge grin on his inky face. He doesn’t even pause before lifting her off the ground in a giant bear hug.

  “Thank you,” he says in her ear, and when he sets her down again, she leans back to look at him.

  “For what?”

  “For thinking I’m good enough.”

  She gives him a stern look. “How many times do we have to tell you it doesn’t matter where you go—”

  “No,” he says. “For Stella.”

  “Scotty, come on.” She glances over to where Aidan and Stella are waiting near the car. “Of course you’re good enough for her. There’s no one better.”

  He grins. “Even though I punched you in the face?”

  “So it was you?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “But let’s just say it was. It can be my parting gift to Aidan. And you. This way, you don’t have to go into freshman year with some crazy story about how your boyfriend gave you a black eye.”

  “What was that?” Aidan calls out, and Scotty looks over with a laugh.

  “I was just telling her that I can’t wait to give you another shiner at Thanksg
iving.”

  “You must be joking,” Aidan says, puffing out his chest as he strides over. “After a few months of lacrosse practices, you won’t stand a chance.”

  He tucks Scotty under his arm, tousling his mop of hair until it’s scrambled as a bird’s nest. But this time, they’re both laughing, and when Scotty wrenches away, he only pauses for a second before throwing himself back at Aidan for one last hug.

  “See you soon, buddy,” he says, and Aidan nods.

  “I’ll call you,” Stella tells Clare as she ducks into the car. “Incessantly.”

  “You’d better,” Clare says through the open window as they pull out of the driveway, leaving behind the two pale figures in the dark, each lifting an opposite hand to wave goodbye. The others are clasped between them.

  As they wind their way out of Scotty’s neighborhood, the headlights cutting across darkened houses and too-bright stop signs, neither of them says anything. In the quiet, Clare swallows a few times, trying her best not to fall apart, because the night isn’t over yet, and she knows there are far worse goodbyes still to come.

  Beside her, she can tell Aidan is doing the same. After a few minutes, he reaches for the radio, scrolling through channels until he finds something soft and twangy. The glowing clock on the dashboard says it’s 2:41 AM, and they’re not even bothering to hide the fact that they’re yawning now; they just keep passing it back and forth, one and then the other, until they both start to laugh.

  “Should we go back to your place?” Aidan asks, and Clare nods hard enough to wake herself up a little.

  As they pull into her driveway a few minutes later, they see a shadow pop up in the living room window. Clare unbuckles her seat belt.

  “I’m gonna run in before Bingo starts barking,” she says, already opening the door. She fishes for her keys as she hurries around to the side of the house. As soon as she’s inside, the dog—a floppy-eared, black-and-white tornado of energy—flies at her, thrilled to have some company so long after bedtime.

  When Aidan arrives, Bingo goes into overdrive, turning frantic circles at his feet, his tongue lolling out in ecstasy. Clare watches with amusement as Aidan drops to the floor, scratching the dog behind the ears.

  In the harsh light of the kitchen, she sees just how terrible his eyes look: two half-moon shadows that will surely turn black and blue before long. His left eye is nearly swollen shut, and below his right eye, the white bandage is now streaked with a thin band of red where the blood is soaking through. She touches a finger lightly to her own temple, conscious of what she must look like as well.