I talk to Elliot even less, because the guilt that eats its way through my insides every time I think of him is too overwhelming for me. I don’t know how deeply he was affected by my actions, because we’ve never addressed it. There’s no easy way to bring it up, either. It doesn’t seem like something you’d text a person: Hey, about that night you took my virginity… I didn’t try to take my life because of it. You were a good first time.
He may not even know that he was my first, though I wasn’t very convincing in my lie to September, so she could have very well told him about the conversation regarding the sheets. Either way, less than twenty-four hours after sleeping together, he was helping to save my life. I’ve probably screwed him up for all of eternity. There are no gift baskets or Hallmark cards for that kind of thing.
Three weeks after my return home, my dad went up to Brixton with a truck to pack up my belongings. It was the first time he’d left me alone, but I had a sneaking suspicion he’d given instructions for poor Cline’s mom to be on the lookout for anything weird happening in his absence. This was confirmed when I finally called my old childhood friend and asked outright if his mom was spying on me from across the street.
“Look, your dad told my mom that you were home alone for the first time since, you know … the thing.” He’s breathing heavily into the phone, and I can hear the strain in his voice.
“Do I want to know what you’re doing right now? Quick: Does it involve a toilet, September, or both?” I ask, pressing my face to the glass window pane by my front door to stare across the street while his mom is peeking through her blinds.
Cline grunts and something lands with a thud on the other end of the line. “For your information, I’m helping your dad load up your room, because I’m a fine fucking southern gentleman, thank you very much. But this bookcase you have crammed into your closet is heavy as shit.”
“Not if you take the books off first. It’s from IKEA. It legitimately weighs two pounds.”
“Oh, shut up,” he huffs into the cell, and then I can hear my books being pulled off and thrown onto the floor.
“Hey! Those are my favorites. Some of them are signed. Be careful with them.”
“Oh my god. Elliot, come take the phone away from me before I lose it.” There’s a shuffle like the cell is being passed back and forth, some muttering, and then a final “fuck!” before Elliot’s voice is on the other end of the line. It’s the first time I’ve heard it since the night he held me in his arms and helped to save my life.
“Hey,” he says, all out of breath and a little distant, awkward, unsure of what to say next.
“Hey back. You’re helping my dad, too?” A quick glance out the window reveals that Mrs. Somers has gone back into hiding, so I head into the living room and stretch out on the couch, trying to imagine Elliot, Cline, and my father all working diligently to take my things down and pack them up to bring back here.
“Of course. Like I’d leave the state of your possessions in the hands of The Hulk over here? He only had two breakfasts today, so he’s starting to get hangry. I’m afraid he’ll start throwing things in boxes just to get done faster.”
I don’t even realize that I’m smiling until I start to speak again. “I appreciate your dedication. If he’s currently causing damage to my book collection, I’m going to have to go across the street and tell his mom about that time I caught him stealing our neighbor’s Maxim subscription when we were seven.”
Elliot laughs and reiterates the threat. “He’s being very, very careful with your books now. It’s an interesting collection, I’ve gotta tell you.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know. I guess it just has more Young Adult than I pegged you for. Romance. Stuff to make you cry. Books they make movies out of. And, from the looks of it, you have a predilection for book boys with one leg.”
I close my eyes and laugh, conjuring up the best image I can of Elliot’s face before I answer. “Nah. Real life boys with two legs top that any day.”
May bleeds into June, and June fades into July. July’s warmth wavers on the roads outside, causing heat to shimmer off the asphalt. Even though we are some of the very few who have decided to stay around the college town for the summer—who are not directly involved in summer classes—there are plenty of people for us to talk to or run into when we do decide to wander out of our apartment. I don’t have a lot of time to do that as I prepare my presentation for Ten2One. I’ve busted my ass, spending almost every available moment I have on perfecting this game concept in hopes that it will land me the position to present the mock-up and get a chance to earn an internship with them.
If that happens, I could very well be on my way to making this game myself in just a matter of years.
Cline insists that I take some time out to watch the fireworks from our building on the Fourth of July, and I do, but my head is in a different place, thinking about Audrey four hours away, in the same state, wondering what she’s doing at this exact same moment.
She’d laugh at thoughts like this. Me sitting here wondering what kind of fireworks she’s looking at. Or with whom.
These thoughts creep their way in, though, and I imagine her at the lake house with someone. I envision them watching purple and yellow explosions in the sky, and I can see her face clearly, imagining the way the embers fall and reflect in her eyes. When I blink, the person that she’s with is me.
It’s exactly the way I want it.
Cline is sitting at our little bar, eating cereal, when I walk through the door, holding my portfolio in one hand and a wilting black tie in the other. He barely looks up before shoveling another spoonful of sugary rainbow-colored mess into his mouth.
“How’d it go?” He asks, milk dribbling down his chin.
“Killed it.” I throw my portfolio onto the counter and slide onto the stool next to him, exhausted. I’ve never been under so much pressure in my entire life, but standing in front of that room full of guys—people who I want to one day call my colleagues, my equals—I was assertive and at ease. I was knowledgeable and confident like that first time I took a bite of Audrey’s Popsicle.
I swear, if God made people to make video games, then He had that in mind when he was putting me together in my ma’s womb.
“They want me to start the internship halfway through the semester. It’s going to kill me, but I have to make it work.”
“You will.” Cline tips the bowl back, chugs the remainder of the milk and then lets out a heinous burp. “You’re almost a genius. Like, right under genius. Just a few points away. You can make this work. Plus, it’s your dream job. And let’s face it, what else are you going to do?”
“Yeah, you’re right.” My mom had told me to focus on school this year, and if I got the internship, I wouldn’t have to get a job, which was the plan for this semester. I hate to put her in this position, but something like this could legitimately get me a job immediately after graduation.
“We should celebrate. Sep’s coming up this weekend. Let’s go get drinks … get rowdy. School starts soon, man, and you’ve been locked up in your room like some sort of hermit for the last month.” He’s hovering by the refrigerator, his hand resting on the handle. We’re both quiet for about a minute before he speaks again, this time a little quieter than before. “Do you think Audrey’s going to come back to school like her dad said she was?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. She talks to you more than she does to me. I don’t even know if I should text her to tell her about today.”
“You should. She’ll want to know. Maybe you can slip in a question about when she’ll be back. Ask if she needs help moving. That’s smooth.”
“Let’s think about this logically. She already signed up for classes. She has to be coming back. It’s just a matter of where she’ll be staying …” I’m staring at him, and I swear we both have the same look on our faces, because we’re both hoping that she’ll come back, but neither of us know for sure. Nothing with h
er is guaranteed.
An idea begins to take form in my mind, and I move to my bedroom to change clothes and grab a notepad and join Cline in the living room. Before he can turn the TV on, I snatch the remote and throw it across the room.
“A simple, ‘I’m not in the mood’ would have sufficed,” he says with a look of shock.
I lean back on our less foul-smelling sofa and prop my feet up on our coffee table, sending some bottles rattling as they move backward. “Tell me some stories about Audrey when you guys were younger. Don’t leave anything out.”
As soon as he opens his mouth, I begin to write.
The semester is about to begin, and suddenly the campus is crawling with people again. It’s unsettling how easily these students, new and old, are moving in and going about their business like nothing life changing happened over the summer. And I guess it hadn’t. Not for them, at least.
They didn’t meet Audrey and come to know her the way that I did. They didn’t spend days and nights in cars and beaches, hotel rooms and houses with her. They didn’t watch her spiral down to the rock bottom and get left behind after all was said and done. They probably went to Florida, got drunk, laid, and tan.
Last weekend, I traveled home to see my mom, and the first thing she asked about was Audrey. I told her everything, and she listened with wide eyes, and a hand over her heart. She held me afterward, as if she was afraid I was going to break or something. As if I had already experienced too much loss in my life, and what happened a couple months prior would only exacerbate that. From my perspective, it made me stronger. I looked death in the face. It only served to make me see things more clearly.
I told her the truth. “I lied to you about the game I’m making. The one I got the internship for is a war game based on those letters Dad wrote to you when he was deployed.” My explanation was as detailed as I could make it without getting too far in and over her head. When I mentioned that the main character was based off of him, she brushed her curls away from her face and took a deep breath, extending her palm.
“Let me see.”
I didn’t hesitate. There’s a part of me that knew she would ask, so I was prepared to show her. When I pulled the picture up, she exhaled and her eyes narrowed, straining as she stared hard at my laptop screen.
“Incredible,” she said, shaking her head, amazed. “It looks just like him. He would have loved this.”
“Yeah?” I closed the computer and set it down on the table, then wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.
She punched me in the arm. “That’s for lying to me.” Then she leaned in and kissed my cheek. “That’s for being an amazing kid.” When she placed both hands on my cheeks and stared hard into my eyes I almost flinched. “Does this mean you’re not making that game for Audrey? I’m telling you, it will make you a fortune, son.”
I didn’t give her a straight answer to that question. The subject of my newest project hasn’t given her consent or seen the final result, so I am saving a public reveal until she gives the proper okay to do so.
Now I have to wait until she’s ready to see it.
I’m thinking of her as Cline and I grab a booth at McNaught’s on the Square. It’s packed tight with bodies. Three weeks into the first semester, our fellow students are clamoring for any chance to get wasted already. I can’t hear him while he’s screaming at me from across the table, and he’s terrible at forming words, so lip reading is nearly impossible. There’s live music, and we’re right next to the speakers as well as the bar, so I’m nearing deafness within five minutes of being in the building. It’s uncomfortably hot, too, causing every piece of clothing I’m wearing to stick to my body. What was once a light blue shirt now has a dark blue ring around the collar, and I bet good money there’s a nice line down my back, also.
Cline’s wearing black, but it doesn’t hide his problem either. I’m about to tell him we should leave when the girls show up and slide into the booth with us. They’re smart, wearing sundresses, their hair up in a ponytail and bun respectively. September sits next to Cline and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek while Tee smiles next to me and reaches for a menu. Her eyes are bright blue, and her hair is a dirty blonde, the complete opposite of the girl sitting across from her.
I can’t hear for shit, and Tee is saying something, pointing at the menu. I shrug and point at my ears, the universal sign of ‘It’s too loud in here’ and she pushes up so that she can talk loudly enough for me to hear.
“I have to make a call. Will you order me one of these?” She points to the menu, and I note the type of beer she’s chosen. I give her a thumbs’ up and she smiles, making her eyes almost disappear and her freckles fold into the wrinkles around her nose as she pushes out of the seat and into the crowd again. Across from me, September and Cline are deep in conversation. Who am I kidding? They’re trying to lick each other’s faces off. I’ve become so used to it by now it’s starting to disturb me.
There’s a flash of teal just beyond their conjoined heads, and I crane my neck to follow it through the mass of bodies that have accumulated in the small space around us, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. A strange knot forms in my gut, and I move away from the table, scanning above all the heads I can while I push my way to the exit. It’s out on the sidewalk that I see her plain as day.
“Audrey!” I yell, and watch as she slows a bit before resuming her pace like she didn’t hear me. I call her name again and break into a run to catch up with her.
Her cheeks are bright red when I make it to her side and she sighs, slowing down to turn and look at me with exasperation. “Damnit, Elliot. You know I don’t run. It’s one of my biggest weaknesses.”
“Why didn’t you stop? I was calling for you.” I reach out to move her hair from her face and she takes a step back, brushing her cheek against her shoulder quickly.
“I saw you, but you looked busy, so I thought maybe I’d text you later.”
“How long have you been back?” The awkwardness between us is unwarranted. It shouldn’t be like this.
“Since just before school started. My dad sold the house. It was a deal with Miranda for the divorce. Whatever. Anyway, he moved closer to campus, and I got new place, so things have been super busy. Sorry I haven’t called, but it looks like you've been busy, too?” Her head tilts in the direction of the bar, and just beyond the doors I can see Tee making her phone call, leaning against the wall outside, smoking a cigarette. It all clicks into place in that moment when I turn my attention back to Audrey and she focuses her eyes back on mine. Tucking her hair behind her ear she gives a smile. “She looks nice.”
“She is nice.”
“You deserve nice, Elliot.”
I deserve you, is all I think, but the words don’t come out. Instead I say, “You look happy. Are you happy?”
She squares her shoulders and nods, only once. “I have nothing to complain about. They adjusted my meds. Things are good with my dad. I’m going to therapy and working stuff out that I never took seriously before.” She stops then and goes quiet, thoughtful, before she continues. “Thank you, by the way, for that night. For saving my life. Dr. Stark said I should tell all of you that, face to face.” She smiles again. “I would have done it without her telling me to, though. Just so we’re clear.” Her fingers are tapping in rhythms of threes and fours against her thigh as she says this, making my muscles tense.
“I made something for you. You should come by the apartment soon and see it.”
Audrey winces like she’s unsure if it’s a good idea or not, her attention going to the entrance at McNaught’s again. “Maybe. Just text me, and we’ll see if our schedules match up. I still have the same number.” She turns to leave, but before she can step away, I reach out and take her wrist, pulling her to me so that we’re face to face, just inches away.
I make sure she’s looking me directly in the eye when I say these next words, because she needs to hear them, and she needs to hear them from me. I know what she learned abou
t her dad and how she was conceived. I am fully aware of her guilt for the way she was born. I’ve seen firsthand how she wishes she could just stop existing. With her hands in mine between us, I bend a bit at the knees and lower my voice so that only she can hear, “Before you walk away, I need you to know … I want you to know that I’m glad you were born. I’m glad you’re alive. And I’m so glad you’re still here.” Without waiting for her to respond, I lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek, then turn and let her go.
I walk away and leave her behind. I have given her an invitation to come to my apartment when she’s ready so that I can show her what I’ve made for her. If she won’t come to me, I’ll find out where she is staying, and I’ll drop it off at her place. One way or another, she’ll get it.
For now, though, I have a dinner with September and her sister, Thursday.
Three weeks have passed and there’s been no contact at all with Audrey. I haven’t seen her on campus, and she hasn’t called or sent one text since I spoke to her outside the bar that day. Her communication with Cline is growing more strained and comes in smaller amounts as the weeks wear on and as far as I’m concerned, it’s now or never.
I can’t wait for her to come to me any longer.
“Did you ask her dad for the address?” I slip the small disc into its plastic holder and place it inside of a bubble wrap insulated envelope.
Cline nods and quickly taps out a message that vibrates on my phone seconds later. Her address appears as a destination on my GPS. On the table in our living room sits that ugly-ass fedora he used to wear along with a note: “I bought three more. Play this, or I start wearing them outside your building and telling everyone I’m your cousin.”
“It’s not exactly a threat, right?” I ask, taking it in my hands and turning it over to put everything inside.