Sadie squirms in my arms and I ask, “Is everything okay?”
She sighs and says, “I have to pee, but I’m so warm and comfortable. I don’t want to get up.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Go to the bathroom and hurry that cute little ass back here. No one likes a person who pees their pants. It’s not attractive.”
“Not a pee-the-pants kind of guy?” Her laugh is contagious.
“Not so much. Hurry up.” She stands and I swat her ass. “I’m not opposed to spanking.”
She holds her butt in shock and turns to me. “I know that and will keep it in mind.” She winks and then takes off toward the house, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I lean back on my hands, my fingers digging into the shaggy grass, taking in my surroundings. Sadie’s friends huddle around the fire, drinking, laughing, and reminiscing on their “glory days.”
I wonder if we would have been friends if I‘d gone to their small-town school. Would I be a part of their group? Or would I be one of the outsiders they talk about? It almost seems like they know every single person that went to school with them, in their grade, two grades older, and two grades younger. There’s something to be said about growing up in a small town.
A little bored, I pull out my phone from my pocket and see I have a missed call from Jimmy. He’s not much of a talker, so I call him back while Sadie is gone.
“Andrew, my man. Are you bringing ice cream tonight?” The bastard has become addicted.
“Not working tonight, sorry. Sadie and I are out at a party with her friends.”
“Fuck me,” he whines into the phone. “God, I need my ice cream fix.”
“Then go get some. You don’t have to wait for me.”
He sighs into the phone, sounding irritated. “Dude, you bring free ice cream. I’m not about to go buy ice cream when I can get it for free; where’s the logic in that?”
“You’re pathetic.”
“No,” he replies. “I’m smart. I’m just going to have to tamp down my craving and wait for another night.” I can hear him take a deep breath—he must be really desperate—before he asks, “So how are things with Sadie? Is she getting ready for Cornell?”
“Things are good,” I answer, thinking back to the conversation we just had. “Things are really good. It’s going to be tough not seeing each other every day like we do now, but we can work it out. I mean, hell, it’s only an hour.”
“Yeah, that’s not bad at all. Remember when I first moved out here? Mae was still in California, trying to sell her car and get all her affairs in order. Now a country’s distance, that’s far.”
“You’re a real pioneer,” I tease, looking around for Sadie. She should be done by now.
“I like to think so.”
Feeling the urge, I head to the bathroom, hoping to find Sadie en route.
“Hey, I’m going to go take a leak. Beer and all.”
“Break the seal now and pay for it the rest of the night,” Jimmy says, offering stupid-ass advice.
“Don’t be a moron. I’m not about to hold in my piss. That’s just asking for a bladder infection. Remember when we were young we were taught when we feel a tingle, it’s time to go to the potty?”
“Yeah, now when I feel a tingle, I’m not looking for a potty . . .”
“And I’m going now. Talk to you later, bro.”
I pocket my phone and head into the house. Smilly and Saddlemire are in the kitchen, manning the keg; there are people I’ve never met milling about in the living room who I nod at and then head back to the bathroom. As I approach, I see that the door is partially closed with the light on. Sadie, can’t still be in there, can she?
I go to press my hand on the door to open it when I hear Sadie’s voice.
“Tucker, what are you doing?”
Tucker?
When I hear Tucker’s voice, he sounds desperate. I’ve only hung with the guy once, but he seemed like a tough, short-worded man.
“I needed to see you. I need to talk to you, Sadie.”
“About what?”
I shouldn’t be listening to this, and yet, I can’t seem to tear myself away. And hell, I shouldn’t leave either, because that’s my girl in there.
“About everything we talked about on the phone. About our future, about the baby, about how much I fucking love you.”
Errr . . . say that again?
Baby?
Love?
Future?
What fucking baby?
“Tucker . . .” Sadie sighs. Fucking sighs. What does that even mean?
“I know you’ve been having fun with Andrew this summer, exploring your options, but what are you going to do when he goes back to school, and you’re still sharing a one-bedroom with Smilly, working at Friendly’s? Are you just going to pretend you’re back at Cornell attending classes as well?” There is shuffling and then Tucker says, “You don’t have to fucking pretend with me, Sadie. You can be real with me; you can be yourself. Go out with me Saturday, let’s just fucking talk. Please.”
“I don’t know,” Sadie answers, unsure of herself.
Wrong answer, Sadie. Can you guess what she should have said? Maybe something like, “I have a boyfriend therefore I can’t go out with you.”
And what the fuck is this pretending shit about Cornell? Does she not go to Cornell? Why would she fake something like that?
“Just give me this one night. I promise I won’t bug you afterward. You owe me one night, Sadie. After everything we’ve been through together, you owe me that much.”
“I know,” she says almost on a whisper. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, babe.”
There is more shuffling and that’s when I step to the other side of the door so when they open it, they won’t see me.
Going to the bathroom has never hurt so much before in my life.
Tucker is the first one who leaves, and a part of me wants to run down the hallway, tackle the prick I don’t like so much now. He’s a dick. Sadie and I shared a whole hell of a lot more this summer than just fun. Or at least it was more to me. What could she possibly owe him? And he’s in love with her? What the hell is going on?
The light in the bathroom goes out a few seconds later and Sadie steps out. She doesn’t look in my direction, but she doesn’t need to.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed over my chest, I ask, “Have plans Saturday night?”
Her progress down the hallway immediately stops as she whips around to see me, her long blonde hair floating over her shoulders. The look of utter shock and regret crosses her features.
Busted.
“An-Andrew,” she stutters. “What are you doing here?”
“Funny thing, I had to piss. Little did I know I’d hear my girlfriend talking to whom I’m going to assume is her ex-boyfriend—”
The moment the words slip from my lips, Sadie’s confessions about her previous relationship and sexual encounters float through my head. Holy fuck, it was with Tucker. My stomach rolls from the realization. “Christ, Sadie. He’s your ex-boyfriend, isn’t he? The guy who took your virginity? The one you had an almost life-long relationship with. It was Tucker.”
She bites her bottom lip but doesn’t answer me.
“Fucking answer the question,” I grit out.
“Yes,” she squeaks. “It was Tucker.”
“And there’s a baby?”
“Was,” she says, using past tense.
“Were you planning on telling me any of this? Did you really go to Cornell? Or did you just make all of that up to pretend to have something in common with me?” I pull on my hair and look her up and down. “Fuck, was any of it real?”
“Yes.” She steps forward but I step back.
“What? What was real, Sadie? Because right about now it seems like I don’t know you at all.”
“I was going to tell you,” she pleads, trying to get closer. “I was trying to find the right time.”
“The r
ight time.” I laugh sarcastically. “When exactly is the right time to tell someone you’ve been lying?”
“It wasn’t . . .” She chokes on a sob. I didn’t realize she was even crying, probably from the blind rage enveloping me. “It wasn’t like that, Andrew. I was ashamed—”
“You should be fucking ashamed,” I spit back at her. “You can’t build a relationship on lies, Sadie. How am I supposed to trust anything you’ve told me? You’re all about never giving anyone a chance, never trusting anyone outside your little circle, and yet you’re a contradiction to your own standards. You lie, use, and take. How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?”
“I didn’t use you.”
“No?” I raise an eyebrow at her. “According to your ex, I was just a fun summer fling to occupy your time and now that I replay our summer together, I think he’s fucking right. Getting you to open up was impossible. I begged, I pleaded to get to know you better, and even though you let me in on some things about you, like you once owned a corgi, clearly you left out all the big topics.” I shake my head and start walking toward her and pass her shoulder in the hallway, while mumbling, “That’s fucked up, Sadie.”
“Andrew, wait,” Sadie calls out, following me down the hall.
I don’t stop. I have a one-track mind and it’s telling me to get the hell out of here. As I maneuver my way through the house, I make eye contact with Smilly who seems to know exactly why I’m walking away from Sadie right now. Fucking great. Was I the standing joke amongst all their friends? Poor Andrew, the outsider, not knowing anything about Sadie and her lying mouth. Maybe they thought I was just the summer fling until she got back together with Tucker too. Fuck.
“Andrew, please.” I fish out my keys from my pocket, unlock the door of my truck, and hop in.
When I go to shut the cab door, Sadie stops me, slipping her body between the door and me. Staring straight ahead, hands on the steering wheel, I say, “Get the fuck out of the way.”
“Andrew, please just listen to me.”
“Why, so you can give me the runaround?” I turn to her and ask point-blank, “Did you lie to me?”
She bites her bottom lip, her eyes wandering back and forth over mine, contemplating her answer. Finally she nods her head.
“That’s all I need to know.” I start my truck and say, “Get out of the fucking way, or I will back this truck up with you in my path.”
Sobs wracking her body, she steps out of the way. I slam the door shut right before I push the pedal all the way down and back out of the long dirt driveway.
I told her about my past, about the humiliation. I haven’t hidden things from her. I haven’t lied.
Fuck.
Be nervous about your past.
Be ashamed.
Be embarrassed.
But don’t ever fucking lie to me, making me feel like a fool. There is no getting around that. I’ve played the clown once before, and I refuse to be the laughing stock at Binghamton.
Chapter Twenty-Six
SADIE
Grass surrounds me, prickling my exposed legs as I sit in the front yard of the party house, my head in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. And I have no one to blame but myself.
When I went to the bathroom, I had no idea I’d run into Tucker. I didn’t even know he was back from his training in Pennsylvania. Meeting up with him on Saturday was going to be completely platonic. I don’t want to start anything with Tucker. I just want to offer him closure, a period on the end of our very long run-on sentence.
I just want the past to be over with. I wanted to start a future with Andrew. What have I done? How did I screw this up so badly?
The look on his face, the anger in his eyes, his total dismissal . . . they will permanently brand my brain, forever place a stamp of regret on my heart.
I should have told him. I should have been honest.
But I was so ashamed. I was running away from it all, trying to distance myself from those chapters in my life.
Soft footsteps come up from behind me and a warm arm wraps around my shoulders. “Is he gone?” Smilly asks.
I nod into my hands, not able to vocalize it.
“Did he find out?”
I nod again, another sob slipping out of me.
“I’m sorry, Sadie.” She gives me a hug but then pulls away, leaving me feeling cold and rejected. “But I’m going to throw some tough love your way. I told you this was going to happen. I love you, but you handled your relationship with Andrew badly. It was only a matter of time before this was all going to explode in your face.”
“I . . . was going to t-tell him tonight,” I reply through broken cries.
“You should have told him weeks ago, Sadie.”
I want to be mad at her. I want to yell and scream at her, but she’s right. I should have told him weeks ago. I should have been open and honest, I should have never deterred him from the truth. It is a mistake I have to live with.
“I fucked everything up.”
“What’s going on here?” Tucker’s voice trails out over the now frigid night. “Are you crying?” He kneels down and lifts my chin to be greeted by my tears. “What the fuck? Did that shithead say something to you?”
“No.” I cry some more. “He overheard us in the bathroom.”
“The dickhead can’t handle a little conversation? If that’s the case, he’s not good enough for you, Sadie. It’s for—”
“Stop!” Smilly stands, her voice taking on a different kind of tone, one I’ve never heard before. “Don’t say another word, Tucker. You’ve done enough damage tonight.”
“Stay out of it, Samantha,” Tucker says, his voice threatening. “I know you like to be in your friend’s business, but maybe you should keep your mouth shut this time.”
“I stuck up for you.” Smilly gets in Tucker’s face. “I was Team Tucker, thinking you would always be together. But seeing her with Andrew, it became clear. You brought her down. You weren’t good for Sadie.”
“She brought herself down! I love her,” Tucker yells, his arms flying out to the side. “I was ready to offer her everything she fucking needed and she didn’t listen. Don’t you fucking put this on me. Do you really think I wanted to see her drop out, give up everything? I wanted to be there for her, support her, help her reach her dreams.”
Smilly and Tucker continue to argue, their words filtering through one ear and out the other, nothing really registering. All I can focus on is the look in Andrew’s eyes. The pain. I’m so freaking overwhelmed that I don’t realize what I’m doing until I’m jogging to the house and begging Emma for her car keys.
She doesn’t ask me any questions. She digs through her purse, pulls them out, and hands them to me with a lift of her chin. She has to know, everyone has to know what happened. I never cry, and seeing me beg for Andrew to stay is a new sight for my friends. It was a new feeling for me too, an agony I’ve only felt once before. The night I miscarried.
Genuine, all-encompassing heartbreak. There is no denying it.
I give Emma a quick hug and then jog out to her car, Tucker and Smilly chasing after me.
“Where are you going?” Smilly asks, her voice still grated from her fight with Tucker.
“I have to see him. I have to talk to him. I can’t continue on with this night, knowing how much pain I caused him.”
“Sadie . . .” Tucker calls out.
I shake my head. “No, Tucker.” I’ll deal with him later.
I slam the door to Emma’s Jetta and start the car with only one destination in mind: Andrew.
***
The lights are all on, there are multiple vehicles in the driveway—including Andrew’s—and the pleasant, thick ambience of regret and sorrow hover over me as I ring the doorbell. I shift on my feet, my palms sweating uncontrollably, my breath caught in my throat. Please answer, please answer.
Heavy footsteps pad across the wood floors I’ve become so familiar with over the summer and the telltale sound of the squeak
y door opening sounds through the quiet night on Chestnut Street.
Katja answers the door wearing basketball shorts, a tank top, and hair tied up in a tight bun. She’s tall, fierce, and intimidating as fuck with her sharp eyebrows and don’t eff with me attitude. I’m almost positive she could rip my limbs off and eat them as an appetizer.
“You,” she says, her voice full of disdain. “What you want?” So, Andrew has already told them.
Pulling together my inner strength, I take a deep breath and say, “I would like to talk to Andrew.”
“Too bad I don’t want you to. Good night.” She slams the door in my face, leaving my mouth hanging open, my mind running a mile a minute trying to work out what just happened.
She shut me down, without even giving me a chance to explain. How dare she?
A little voice in the back of my head keeps telling me to fight, to not give up. I puff out my chest and ring the doorbell again. After no one answers, I ring again, and again, and again until I hold my finger down, making the bell go on a loop. I can do this all freaking night.
After a minute of torture, the door finally opens. I expect to be greeted by Katja again but instead Andrew’s angry eyes meet mine. All five girls stand behind him with their arms—ahem, their beefy arms—crossed over their chests. They are extremely intimidating, but I can’t leave. I just want Andrew back.
“Press that bell one more time and these girls are going to tear your fingers off and use them as soup spoons,” Andrew says. From behind him, Katja pretends to eat soup from a bowl, her eyes trained on mine. Oh sweet Jesus.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Can I please talk to you, Andrew?” I look over his shoulder one more time and add, “Alone.”
“Push her down stairs,” Katja calls out.
“Whack the snatch,” Leena adds.
Madeline—the French girl—stands tall and says, “Poke her in the eye.”
“In the nipple,” Katja adds.
“No.” Leena hits Katja in the arm. “Snatch probably like nipple poke.”
Katja nods and says, “Don’t poke her nipple.”