The Art of Being a F*ck Up

36. No More Cowards

After I've gotten as wet and soggy as I can stand I turn off the water and step out of the shower. The days have turned into a week, and those weeks into another month that I've been busting my ass to get better, to make something of myself. I wipe the steam off the mirror and take a look at my reflection, knowing that I've been here before. I started up my workout regimen again, not that I ever got out of shape necessarily, but it's been nice having another outlet to cope, it's like meditation for me, or yoga or some shit. The work remains difficult, true, but it's also been rewarding now that I can finally stand here like this and say I recognize what I see.

Better late than never, that's what people always say, and seeing how final exams are right around the corner and I'm so close to graduating college, I guess I really took that too literally. I am glad I got here though. I'm also close to finishing this journey I started what feels like a different lifetime ago, but there's just a little more I have yet to go. Thank god for Lilah. Even with everything she already has to do, she's still found the time to help me prepare for exams ever since I parted ways amicably with Maddy.

So I'm here, back in this house that has so many memories, but it's only dead quiet when I pull on all my clothes and go out into the hallway. Or, it's almost quiet. First I hear a car door slam, and then faint chatter from outside, and when I inch over to the nearest window to glance outside I see her down in the driveway. Jason is in the car, but Jonah's still standing next to her, his dimples in plain sight from the big grin he's wearing. It doesn't hurt so much to see him these days, but that might be helped by the fact that we've had to interact on more than one occasion since the breakup.

I miss him, but when we have to be face to face it's so polite, cordial. Transactional. Right under the surface I can see he feels it just the same as me, but this is what we are, what we have to be for right now. And I've learned to be okay with that, because I can still love him and respect that he's on his own journey too. Without a thought I press my hand to the window, and catch myself wishing he would look up and see me watching, but instead he gets in the car with his dad and they leave.

"What was that all about?" I ask, perched at the top of the stairs when Lilah comes back inside. There's a box tucked under her arm that can't be all that heavy, even for her, but she still holds it out anyway.

"Here, honey. Help me bring this upstairs?" She deflects, stalling. She won't lie to me, that's something I've always been able to count on, but as I come down to retrieve the box from her I have to wonder what's so bad that she can't just tell me outright. It's not until she leads the way to Jonah's old room that I start to formulate my answer.

"Is this all the stuff from his dorm?" It's been forever since I've been able to stomach coming in here, but now that I've crossed that divide I find that it's filled with so many of his old things. Does he plan on moving back here after graduation? After I set the box down on an already unstable stack I take another glance around, eventually focusing on Lilah again as she sits on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to her.

"Come sit," her encouraging smile insists that I shouldn't be afraid, but my mind still races while I go to sit at her side. When I do she takes a deep breath, and tells me honestly, "Jonah's decided to go to New York after he takes his exams, it sounds like there are still some great opportunities he wants to pursue over there. This is everything he can't take with him."

"He's leaving?" It's all I can utter. Ironic, isn't it, how I tried so hard to keep him from going so I didn't have to lose him, only to hear now that he's going anyway. The deal is done, he's already packed all his shit into boxes prematurely—he can't even wait until we graduate—he's taking off the second he's done with exams, it couldn't be more obvious how much he wants to be rid of this place. Really I think maybe he's eager to be rid of me, this, us—being surrounded by all these memories can't be any easier for him than it is for me. I really am trying to be supportive, but the news hits so much harder than I could've prepared for.