Looking At Us

59. cris

‘‘Cris, I left my sweater in your bedroom,’’ Niomi said. ‘‘Umm . . . can I come pick it up after my piano lesson?’’

     I paused my movie and said, ‘‘Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here. I’ll see you then.’’

     I hung up and passed the phone back over to Emily, who was waiting in my doorway. She said, ‘’I don’t like her. Your new girlfriend. I liked your old one a lot better.’’

     ‘‘Cori?’’ I said, just because I didn’t want to say Megan’s name.

     ‘’No, Megan,’’ Emily said, just because she couldn’t get inside my head (thank God). ‘‘I still can’t believe you left her for this other girl. Like, what the hell.’’ 

     I didn’t know what to say. I’d had Niomi back for about four days now. Megan’s name hadn’t popped into my head once. Why was I suddenly getting nostalgic for her?

     The doorbell rang. Emily swore and yelled, ‘’Am I going to attend to the needs of this family again? Emily, answer the phone! Emily, get the door! Emily, make dinner! Okay! After this, I am done! Cris, it’s for you!’’

     I came downstairs and got a glare from Emily before she went back to her bedroom, and I glanced at the door and saw Megan. God. No way. Why was she showing up on the day I was really thinking about her?

     For a split second, I had the impulse to run. To flee to my bedroom and leave her, because I was afraid, and I was ashamed. She was probably going to assault me with words. Possibly hit me. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I didn’t want to be around her at the moment. 

     I didn’t say hello. 

     She didn’t say hi. Instead, she said, ‘’I know I really shouldn’t be here.’’

     And that was the truth. What was left for her in this place? Not Darrin. Not my dad’s bocconotto. Not me. Nothing. 

     I said, ‘‘Shouldn’t you?’’

     ‘’No. I really don’t have a reason to be here.’’ She crossed her arms, because she didn’t have any pockets to put her hands in. ‘’I really shouldn’t be here telling you that I’m sorry, and I miss you, and I want you back in my life. I mean, I have no defense. You broke up with me. You have a girlfriend. And I’m just standing here, like the bitch that I am, because I guess I have no respect for your choices. So, yeah, I really shouldn’t be here.’’ 

     I heard all of it, and none of it. There were a thousand voices in my mind, opposing against her and shouting encouragement, but it was this phrase, this phrase: I want you back in my life. And I fell. 

     I was dead in my own life. 

     Megan, looking eerily beautiful and haunting all at once, said, ‘‘When you broke up with me, you said something about looking at us.’’ She pulled out her phone and recited: ‘‘Looking at us, I see you smile, and I feel your hand, and I wonder, truly, if we are meant to survive this journey.’’ 

     I didn’t know what to say.  

     She continued: ‘‘You were right.’’

     ‘’I was right?’’

     ‘‘Yes. Wondering if we’re meant to survive this journey.’’ She uncrossed her arms and let them lang loosely at her sides. I wanted to take her fingers and kiss them lightly, just to remember what her skin tasted like. 

     I said, ‘‘Are we?’’

     She sighed. ‘’I don’t think so.’’

     This girl, this place, these words, this feeling, this life. 

     Looking. at. us. 

     She gave me a weak grin, and then she left, but I caught her hand before she disappeared and I said, ‘‘Thank you.’’ 

     Megan looked at me. Her eyes. Her eyes. 

     And then she left.