See Dot Smile

Heartsick

When Bud said a two-seater, I was expecting something flashy. An early mid-life crisis gift to himself that he'll regret, once he discovers how much he dislikes leg cramps and ingesting bugs after a three-hour drive with the top down.

But Bud never ceases to amaze.

He pulls into my driveway at 6:30 AM, driving a massive white camper van with a moon roof, and a new vanity plate that says BUD1.

"What do you think?" he beams, pulling me off my front step and dancing me toward his automotive pride and joy.

"It's really big," I say. "How are you going to park it at school?"

"Badly," he smiles. "I want to show you the back seat."

"Yeah, you do."

He giggles. "It's not really a seat." He opens the rear door, revealing a vast empty space behind the cab. There's nothing inside.

"I don't get it," I say. "What am I looking at?"

"Potential," he says. He steps into the back of the van and gives me a hand up. We can both stand up inside without ducking our heads. "I'm going to build it out, like a camper." He starts moving around the space, throwing his arms out to show me where he'll put the kitchenette, the cabinets, the pull-down bed, track lighting.

The longer he talks, the bigger the lump in my throat gets. He's talking about building the van into a place he can live. About going somewhere. Going lots of places. Leaving. 

He's talking about leaving. Me.

"Hey," he says, touching my elbow. I'm staring at the blank metal wall, fighting back tears. "What's wrong? Do you hate it?"

There's no point in trying to hide my emotion. No matter how irrational it is. I turn to him and watch his face melt from excitement to regret. "Hey, what is it? Whatever it is. I'll fix it."

I let him hug me, and I bury my face in his chest and cry. I can't help it.

"I thought you were staying here ... with me," I weep into his shirt.

"I am," he says. "Come here." He leads me to the center of the floor and sits down. "Come sit in my living room."

I laugh a little, and wipe my eyes on my sleeve, as I join him on the floor. We sit cross-legged, facing each other, and he takes my hands in his. "Dot, this is going to take me forever to build into something useable. It's a project. I'm not leaving anytime soon. I'm taking the assistant manager job at Gregory's. I'll be here all summer with you. Nothing's changed."

"But it will change," I choke. "You will leave. Sometime. And I don't want you to. I'm not ready for you to leave." I'm embarrassed by my selfishness, but Bud isn't making me feel anything but validated.

"Dot. There's no one like me in this town. I'm like a unicorn. If I want to meet someone, I have to venture out ... a little bit. Right?"

I nod. Because he's right. And I want him to find someone. I just don't want to lose him in the process.

"But this town is my home," he says, squeezing my hands. "I'm a beach baby. It's in my blood. And so is my parent's ridiculous house, and my quirky job at Gregory's. And you." He runs both of his hot hands over my hair and shoulders. "Dot," he says, his voice suddenly shaky. "You saved my life. You know that, right?"

I meet his eyes and they're wet with tears. "What do you mean?" I sniff and take his hands back, pulling them into my lap and pressing my thumbs into his palms.

"I mean ... before we became friends. I was ... not doing great." He turns his eyes down and my stomach tenses up. "I'd spent years trying to fit somewhere at school, and this year felt a lot like a last chance for me. To fit. So, I showed up every day, trying. Even though I dreaded it. I seriously dreaded going to school, Dot. I felt like a little kid who was scared of a bully, but there was no bully. It was worse than that. There was no one.

"I couldn't sleep because I would wake up in the middle of the night and my heart would be racing. And I'd feel sick and alone. And sometimes I thought I was having a heart attack."

I reach up and slide my thumbs over his cheeks to clear away his tears. I wish he would look at me, but I don't force him to. I take his hands again and breathe over the growing worry in my chest as he keeps talking.

"Then one night I thought to myself, so what? What if I am having a heart attack? And what if I just lie here and see what happens? Maybe it will kill me. In my bed.

"And I started to think about how the rest of the world would handle that. My mother would be devastated. My dad would feel like a dick for being so distant. My sister might wish we'd gotten along better the last few years. But then I thought about school. And whether anyone would notice ... if I stopped showing up." His voice breaks. I take his face in my hands and look him in the eye, hoping it will steady him, but I'm crumbling under the weight of what he's saying. I don't know how much more I can hear.

"And that day ... before Christmas break ... when you helped me open my locker..." He smiles at me through his tears, revisiting the moment, before his face falls again. "I was sitting there ... and I couldn't stop thinking about my heart ... and I started to convince myself it was going to happen ... during the holidays. That my heart would give out and I wouldn't wake up and that..." He inhales sharply and sobs. "That it was okay because everyone would probably be better off... if I stopped showing up... Oh God, Dot, I'm sorry!" He pulls me into his lap and breaks into pieces.

My heart is pounding so fast I can hardly breathe, and I'm clinging to him, wishing I could crawl inside him and put my hands on his heart and hold it. "I'm sorry if I'm scaring you," he sobs against my neck. "It's why I never told you before. I didn't want to scare you. But I need you to know because you saved me. You saved me from thinking that way. You saved my heart. And I'll never, ever, ever, ever, ever forget that. Ever."

I give in and let myself fall apart in his arms. And we choke, sob, snort, and drool over each other until our lungs remember how to breathe, and our hearts go back to beating like we didn't just run an emotional marathon together. I bring his face close to mine, and I kiss him. And I kiss him again. And a third time for good measure.

"Listen to me," I say, holding his gaze. "If you ever start thinking that way again – you need to tell someone. Okay?" He nods in my hands. "You shouldn't have to be alone with that. You're not alone. People need you. I need you. Promise me you won't keep it to yourself. Promise?"

"I promise," he says. "And I haven't thought that way in a long time," he says, his voice sturdier. "Because since I met you, I've had a really awesome reason to get out of bed every day. And a reason to go to school. And a place to fit in. And some idea of who I am, because you gave me that, Dot." He smiles and my heart swells to bursting. "You're my angel."

"Oh, shut up," I laugh cry. "That's too beautiful a thing to say in real life."

"I'm not taking it back," he grins. "Stop being so miraculous, and we can talk about it."

His face is tear stained, but his warmth is back. His smile. The clear blue of his eyes.

"I don't want to be with everyone else today," I say, fingering the buttons on his shirt. "I want to spend the day with you."

He makes a rebellious face. "Sorry," he says. "We're going. I've never been on a roller coaster before." He grins devilishly. "And I want my first time to be with you."

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