Because You're Different ✔

66. Pillow

Nathan

Simon's lips were moving, slowly and long, forming words, although no sounds came out. My head was spinning as I trudged up the stairs, seeking support from the wall on the one side and the railing on the other. His meaty face dissolved into Lena's slender one, her green eyes flickering in every direction as she went from complaining about Mr. Pyke to blabbering about adopting a dog to delivering a monologue on homophobia.

Why was it no surprise that she was behind it all? She must've done it during one of her episodes, when all logic was out of the window, and her mind jumped from one idea to the other in the span of a few seconds, when she wanted to have sex every few hours — whether it was with me, or that other guy, or a random stranger. Had she even remembered leaving the brochures there, that first time when we'd discovered them together, and she'd started a rant on how my parents were fascists and deserved nothing more than a raised middle finger?

Madeline's high voice rang in my ears, pretending to know nothing about a set of brochures — I'd cursed her, called her a liar, and now, after all this time, it turned out she truly hadn't known anything about them. My GPA. My volunteer work. It had been me, after all. I got in because of me and because of Lena. All those times she dragged me to senior homes, soup kitchens, homeless centers, environmental marches — she got tired of them very fast, always finding something new, something more exciting, with a cause even nobler, while I'd been too ashamed to just not show up anymore, so I'd kept going even though she was somewhere off having fun. Talking to old people was what got me into Stanford? Really?

I marched to the far side of the landing, opening the door to June's room, all the while seeing grandma before me, shaking her head at me. I blinked, once, twice, thrice. Her bed was made, her books lining the shelves, pictures of her and Valentina and Sam and her parents and Hayley and me still scattered around — that meant she wasn't gone, right?

She couldn't be gone. Not even a week ago had she smiled at me, had she kissed me, talked to me. The smell of her and her perfume lingered, promising me that this wasn't the end. I marched to her nightstand, picking up the picture of her and her dad, taken during our first Christmas together. Mr. Guevara couldn't be dead. That was impossible. He'd told me we'd meet again, and he never lied. Most honest man on the planet.

"Yo."

Sam was standing in the doorway, scratching the back of his head. The kid him flashed before me, staring up at Lena with big eyes, like she was a villain from his favorite books — had he really been that scared of her, and had I really never realized it? What had she told him that he listened to her — what illogical reason in her brain had driven him to listen to her? He'd just been a boy. He'd needed his parents, he'd needed me, and all I'd done was let her control my life.

What would June say if she knew about this?

Would I get to tell her?

Where was she?

"I think she left something for you, err, in your room."

"What?"

"June. I saw her, err, put something in your room."

June. My room. He stepped aside, and I rushed back to the landing, to my door, pushing it open. For a second, I expected her to be there, waiting for me, but there was no one there. The only sign that someone had been here in my absence was the lack of dust.

And the box, lying on top of a letter on my pillow, the same place where years ago, I'd found the brochures, and let them dictate my future.

With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid, only to have my worst fears confirmed. She'd left the ring. No. That wasn't right — it was hers, it was always supposed to be hers. It didn't matter where she was or what had happened, that ring was supposed to be on her finger.

I snatched up the letter, my breathing ragged as I opened it and took in the words on the creased paper. No. This was a joke. This couldn't be true. Three days? Mr. Guevara had been dead for three days? No, I didn't read it right. I just had to try again, because this couldn't be true.

Nathan,

I'm sorry.

You called me about a thousand times, and I can't find the will to call you back. I lost my phone on the day he died. It took me a while to find it again. I suppose I should've been happy to see your name on my screen. Truthfully, I wasn't. I'm not feeling a whole lot right now. Did you ever experience one of those states in which you're lying in bed, and you know time is passing, but there's just nothing more than that? That's me, at the moment. I'm still trying to figure out how to get out of it.

It's been three days since he passed away. Mom and I are going to collect his ashes in a few hours, and then we'll be on the road, back to our home state. Sam has been having a hard time, so please take care of him, like you've always done. I suspect he and Hayley have been arguing about something, and well, you, me, and her, that's all he really has. And I'm leaving him. You need to be there.

Funny, I always called Sam my best friend, but I've been thinking lately, that maybe it was you all along. And I screwed that up, and I'm so sorry I did. I screwed up this incredible friendship, just for a few kisses — no matter how amazing they were. Turns out, I can be as much of a fool as Sam. I'm so, so sorry, and I hope I didn't ruin your relationship with Charlotte. This is all on me. And a little bit on the wine. I'm sorry for causing problems. Just like you, I never wanted to be anything other than a solution.

I've also been thinking that this might be just how things were supposed to go. Dad is gone, and that was always going to lead to mom and me hitting the road and leaving California behind. This way, we don't have to deal with awkward FaceTime calls and fruitless attempts at keeping the conversation going. Yeah, it's better this way. It'll make it easier to start fresh.

I really need to start fresh, or I won't survive.

Maybe, if Charlotte isn't too mad at you, you could move back home, for Sam. I just hate the idea of him being all alone, and it's really only a year and a few months before he'll be going off to college.

Love,

June

Ps. Oh, and here's the ring back. I know I promised I'd never take it off, but I can't really wear it anymore, can I? It makes me feel like shit. And I've had enough of feeling like shit.

No matter how many times I went through it, the facts remained the same.

Mr. Guevara was dead, and I hadn't been there for her. She was going back to New York, and I hadn't been able to see her off. She was sorry she kissed me, and I wasn't. She hoped I could still be with Charlotte, and I didn't.

She called me her best friend, and I'd screwed that up.

She'd given back the ring.

I fucked up. Again.

My head was pounding as the room began to spin, all of my posters merging with each other. I massaged my temples, trying to think, trying to get a grip, find a solution.

Why hadn't I come back earlier?

Why had I ever left?

Why had I thought, that after kissing her and then fleeing the scene and blocking her number, like she was a fucking mistake, she would be here, waiting for me to return?

"Is it bad?"

I looked up, to my brother, dawdling on the doorstep, his shoulders huddled. For some reason, he seemed like he was about to cry, and I couldn't bring up the energy to be mad at him. June wasn't the only one I'd abandoned.

"Yeah," I said, my voice rough, like I'd been smoking all night.

Sam nodded. "Well... she can't be far... she can't have passed Salt Lake City, right? Maybe, if you called her..."

I doubted she'd pick up — why would she, when I was the asshole who held her first kiss and then left without a trace? When she was always there when I needed her, and I wasn't there when she needed me? Why would I even deserve a place in her new life?

But I couldn't disappoint Sam another time. I'd messed up his friendship with June too — everything came back down to me and my bad decisions. I picked up the ring box, tucking it safely in my jacket pocket. "Yeah," I said, "yeah, I'm gonna call her. Let me get my phone."