All of It (18 page)

The bell rings and a force outside my control propels me from my seat. My eyes burn, like a flame is being held to the backs of my eyelids, and the lump in my throat swells until I’m convinced I will suffocate. I pick up my books and begin walking toward the door. I flinch involuntarily from the hand that touches my shoulder.

“Ronnie, are you okay?” His voice is soft and concerned, but strangled by fear.

The tears begin flowing as I turn to face him. I can’t meet his eyes … his beautiful eyes.

He grips my upper arms firmly. Not with the intention of hurting me, but more with the intention of never letting go. It’s agonizing. “Ronnie, what’s wrong?” The fear is pronounced now. He knows this isn’t good.

I struggle to catch my breath between sobs as I push quickly past him. I stop just outside the classroom. He trails closely behind.

“Ronnie, please tell me. What’s going on? Jo said you were sick, but you’re a mess. What’s wrong?” He’s pleading in a strained whisper.

I bury my face in my hands. I feel that crushing weight in my chest again. I don’t know if I’ll be able to speak. “I can’t do this anymore,” I sob from behind my hands.

He tries to pull my hands gently from my face, but I resist. “Can’t do what?”

“Thh-iiss,” I stutter through the sobs.

“I don’t understand.” He says softly, but his voice betrays him and I know he understands all too well. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“I have to get to class,” I say turning away from him.

“Please, Ronnie.” His voice cracks, and with it another fissure opens in my heart.

“I have to get to class,” I repeat, though I don’t take a step. “Later, maybe.”

“After school?” His voice is equal parts despair, hurt, and anger.

I nod. “After school.”

With that, he strides past me. I watch him go. He’s frustrated, his hands balled up into fists. I stop in the bathroom before I make a late appearance in French. I know I’m quite a sight. Madame Lemieux’s eyes grow wide when I enter but she doesn’t say anything. She casts worried glances in my direction the entire hour.

Dimitri is a no-show in History, though that’s the only thing I recall from the remainder of the school day. I drive home mechanically, strictly on autopilot. Thank God it’s a short drive, because I could’ve run someone over and never even noticed. I’m only two houses away when I realize that Dimitri’s Porsche is parked in front of my house. He isn’t sitting in it. I pull slowly into the driveway watching the garage door rise before me in slow motion. I park and get out, leaving my bag in the passenger seat.

I walk quickly over the frosty ground to the back door with keys in hand and nothing else. I know he’ll be waiting there for me and I don’t like the idea of him standing in the cold. The irony of the situation hits me like a freight train. I’m willing to break his heart, but I don’t want to keep him waiting in the cold before I do it? I shake my head at the absurdity of it. I look up tentatively as I approach the door. He’s not there. Where is he? I turn around and quickly scan the driveway.

I unlock the door and run through the house to the front door. My heart begins to race. I open the door and look at his car again. He’s not sitting in it. I start to panic. Two minutes ago I was dreading facing him and now I am frantic to find him. I shut the door and walk back to the kitchen to collect my scattered thoughts. As I pass by the sliding glass door to the backyard, a knock on the glass stops my racing heart.

There stands Dimitri.

I look at him through the glass, and in that moment of recognition my life with him flashes before my eyes: our first awkward day, the rainy day lunch in my kitchen, our first date, homecoming, and the dreams—all of it in an instant. And it’s at that moment I know this isn’t over,
un-believable
or not. I can’t be the girlfriend he deserves right now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.

He knocks again and mouths the words, “Ronnie, can I come in pl—?”

I pull the door open before he can finish. “What are you doing back here? You’ll freeze to death.”

“It’s not that cold, Ronnie. I’ve been sitting on the swing waiting for you to come home. I’ve been here all afternoon. It’s a good place to think. I’ve run through several scenarios of how this is going to all play out, and in the end I decided to just let you talk …
after
I say one thing.”

The lump grows in my throat again and my voice cracks. “Go ahead.”

He walks into the kitchen and sits down at the table. I follow his lead. He waits to begin until I’m seated across the table from him. He looks tired, and though his eyes are puffy they burn sincerely into mine and I can’t look away.

“I love you. I’m not telling you this because I’m looking for you to say it in return. It’s just something I need to say because I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever known, and I absolutely adore you … despite days like today.” He sighs, blinks twice and then adds, “That’s it. That’s all of it.”

And there it was; the “I love you.” I feel crushed. His gaze is still intensely focused on me. I pause for several seconds to put my thoughts in order before I speak. This conversation with anyone else would be rushed to spare myself the emotion, but I owe this to Dimitri. Talking to him has always been easy and I want to be completely honest with him. “Dimitri, I am so sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.” And my honesty sounds cliché.

Dimitri looks down, shakes his head slightly and mutters, “Come on, Ronnie, you can do better than that.”

“I know that is so overused, but it’s true. I have so much going on in my life right now that I feel like it’s literally driving me insane. Like I’m on the verge of a breakdown.”

He’s still looking down at the table, “What’s going on?” he whispers.

The tears finally begin to flow and my voice is already strained. “My friends hate me. We graduate in four months and I have no idea where I’m going to go to school, what I’m going to major in, or how I’m going to pay for it. I’ll be unemployed in a few weeks. And lastly, and most importantly, my mom found a lump in her breast.”

His neck whips up and his eyes meet mine again. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is she okay?”

I grab a napkin off the counter and sit back down as I wipe my nose. “She’s okay. It was benign, thank God. She kept it all from me until she got the results back late last week.”

His shoulders relax and his eyes soften. “That’s good though, right? She’s okay.”

“I guess so, it’s just scary. It wasn’t cancer this time, but what if it happens again?”

“Ronnie, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I know your parents mean the world to you. Will and Jo are amazing and I genuinely hope they live very long, happy, healthy lives. But unfortunately, that’s life. That’s why it’s so important to seize the moment and make the most of each and every day. There aren’t any guarantees and it’s not always fair. Sometimes bad things happen to really great people.”

He’s talking softly and trying desperately not to upset me, but his attempt fails. “
That’s
a nice thing to say. You’re talking about
my
parents!” I’m raising my voice, which feels hollow in the empty kitchen.

His face is suddenly aged and even more tired if that’s possible. He turns away from me, looks out the window and whispers, “I’ve lived it.”

And there it is.

Regret.

If I could take it back, I would. I want to crawl under the table and hide my face. “Your dad,” I say. Of course, his father. How inconsiderate can I be? “Dimitri, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I guess you would know better than I would. I
really
am sorry.”

He continues to gaze out the window at nothing in particular, just a blank stare. “Don’t be. Unfortunately that kind of loss is something I’ve had to deal with more times than I care to remember.”

“Who else, besides your dad?” I whisper.

His eyes drop to the floor. “I don’t want to think about that … especially not today.”

We sit in silence for more than two minutes. I’m watching the clock on the wall tick deafeningly in the stillness of the room.

Finally Dimitri breaks the silence. “Ronnie, I don’t want to trivialize any of your problems, but your friends don’t hate you. Beyond that, the rest are just the cards that life’s dealt you right now. You just need to decide how you want to deal with them. It’s not life or death … it’s just life. If you need help, why don’t you just ask for it?” He’s staring at me again and the sincerity has returned to his eyes.

I bite my lip and inhale and exhale deeply. “I’m not so good at asking for help.”

He huffs and half smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “I know.”

“It’s hard for me. I’m the one everyone else comes to when they need help.” I look away. “I feel weak asking for it.” I’m ashamed to hear myself say it aloud.

He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. Exasperated, he sighs. “You’re such a goddamn martyr, Ronnie. Did it ever occur to you that people
want
to help you? I would do anything in my power to help you …
anything
. Monica, Tate, John, Piper—they would all help you in a heartbeat. Teagan would probably cut off his freaking right arm if you asked him to.”

The tears start up again. “I can’t ask them for help, not after the way I’ve treated them lately.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if there’s an issue with your friends maybe it’s time to address it.”

I sob. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“I’m confused, Ronnie. Tell me what’s going on.”

I sit there and cry uncontrollably for several minutes before I’m contained enough to speak. “I can’t be the girlfriend you deserve and the friend they deserve. I’ve spent all of my time with you this year and I’ve put them on the back burner.”

His face drops and he whispers, “I don’t expect you to sacrifice friendships for me, but has the time you’ve spent with me really been such a bad trade-off? Because I don’t regret a single minute I’ve spent with you.”

The tears continue. “I just want to stop hurting everyone. I can’t seem to balance all of the people in my life that I care about. I can’t give each of them the focus they deserve. If I spend time with you like I have been, then my friends are hurt. And if I start spending time with them, then I hurt you.”

His eyes are focused on mine again. “I’m willing to share.”

The sobs start again. “Of course you are. Why do you have to be so
damn
understanding? I can’t do it. I’m an all or nothing kind of girl. If I’m going to be your girlfriend I need to feel like I’m in it one hundred percent. I can’t divide myself up.”

He hasn’t blinked. “So, what do you want me to do now? Please, tell me. Do you want me to leave and never talk to you again?” His voice cracks and a tear rolls down his cheek. “Because if that’s what you want, I honestly don’t think I can do it.”

Seeing the tears on his face is worse than being punched in the chest. I want to hug him, to comfort him. But I know I can’t. I’d get sucked right back in. “I don’t need a boyfriend right now, Dimitri. I just need a friend. I know that’s a lot to ask and I understand if you can’t do it.”

The tears trail silently down his beautiful face. “You’re my best friend and you always will be.” With that he rises, kisses me on top of my head and walks out the front door.

I fold my arms on the table and my head drops onto them. I cry until I can no longer stay awake.

Life is sometimes … imperfect.

My stomach roars, protesting, painfully pleading for food. Hunger is a pain different from other physical pain. It’s mental, the kind of pain that can drive you mad. It slowly gnaws away at you from the inside out, forcing out all other sensations. Attempts to divert your attention from it are short-lived and futile. I pull my knees tighter to my chest and stare at the shadowy blackness streaked across the backs of my eyelids. The dirt beneath me is cold but my skin is almost too numb to take notice.

I feel an arm around my shoulder tighten. “You okay, Ronnie? D. should be back any minute now. He thought he’d be able to get some bread from the vicar tonight.”

The conversation draws me out of my hiding place within. “I’m okay, Sebastian. I just hope he hurries. We need to find some shelter before this bloody snow picks up.”

Sebastian and I are huddled in an alley, which provides some protection from the wind. The snowflakes swirl around us like tiny dancers. Their beauty is temporarily mesmerizing. It’s been nearly three days since our last meal, and even though the cold wind makes the hunger worse, watching the snow make its silent descent is peaceful and calming. It brings back memories of sitting with my mum and dad next to the fire in our little one-room house watching the snow fall on Christmas Eve. They’re some of the most cherished memories I have of my parents.

I met Dimitri and Sebastian at the orphanage when I was five. When I was ten, we ran away. We’ve lived on the streets for the past five years. But we’re a family, and that’s what’s most important. Even though I’m the oldest, Dimitri is a natural leader. He’s ingenious for a fourteen-year-old and that’s proven the difference between life and death on more than one occasion.

I hear footsteps on the cobblestone street at the opening of the alley. It’s Dimitri. A huge smile spread across his soot-smudged face.

“I hope you two aren’t too comfortable. I was thinking we could find someplace more proper to dine.” With that he pulls loaf of bread as long as his arm from behind his back.

Sebastian stands up slowly and stretches as if his joints are frozen. “Brilliant! I told you he’d come through, Ronnie, didn’t I?”

Dimitri smiles and says, “I always do, mate.” His smile is infectious.

“Are you sure you want to share that with a couple of cheeky bums like us?” I joke.

This makes Dimitri laugh. “Cheeky bum or not, you’re still my best friend and you always will be.” He bends over and kisses the top of my head. “Now let’s eat.”