Crash Test Love (22 page)

People don’t forget about my scene with Henry—I’m sure it wil be al anyone talks about at school on Monday—but after Destiny jumps out of that helicopter and the party truly gets underway, I’m able to slip out unnoticed. I cal my dad to pick me up. Then I wait.

It’s pitch black outside, but there’s candlelight from the pumpkins that line the driveway, giving o a romantic atmosphere I would have found appealing had tonight not sucked hard-core. How many times do you get to hurt someone who cares about you and lose your so-cal ed friends, al within fteen minutes?

I feel completely drained. I feel stupid and like a total bitch, and also disappointed, not so much in London but in Henry. Not that I blame him, but stil —it’s shocking to know that the two of them hooked up, and even though it hurts my feelings, it reinforces the decision I made not to sleep with him and travel further down the road to a relationship that surely would not have ended wel . Mine never do. The boy always winds up dumping me or cheating on me or saying something hurtful. It’s bet er we leave it this way, before either of us gets too damaged. We both have a lot of growing up to do. Bet er to end things before they real y even began.

I don’t know whether it’s because I’m thinking about him or simply because we’re at the same party and just had a ght that was captured on camera and witnessed by nearly the entire East Shore student body (and he’s looking for me), but I see Henry walking toward me. His head is slightly bent, his shoulders are rounded, and he looks just about as exhausted as I am.

“Hey,” he says once he’s close.

“Hey.”

We look at each other and I almost cry at the sadness of it al . “So,” I say.

“So.”

“This is weird.”

He smiles but doesn’t show any teeth. “Yeah.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” I admit.

“Isn’t this the part where you tel me that even though you initial y went after me because of a bet, during the time we spent together you realized how much we have in common, and how great I am, and actual y fel for me? And then I’m supposed to be sulky for a lit le while and talk to one of my friends who doesn’t even real y like you but tel s me that I’d be an idiot to let you go, and then I run after you, maybe in the rain or as you’re about to board a bus, and I take you in my arms and kiss you and we live happily ever after?” He looks at me, hopeful, and it kil s me. Could he actual y think it would be that easy?

“Why are the only happy endings the ones where the couples get together?” I ask. “Can’t they just be friends? Can’t that be a happy ending too?” I take a few steps closer and kiss him on the cheek. A peace o ering.

“I don’t think it can, Garret .”

“I see.”

“So, this is real y it?” he asks gently.

“Yes,” I tel him. “At least for now.”

He jerks away. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“For now. I can’t handle that. If you don’t want to be with me, then I can’t have you in my life. At al .” I close my eyes to keep from crying, let ing his words sink in.

“I love you, Garret . You’re the only person in my life I have ever loved. It took me seventeen years to nd you. There’s never going to be anyone else. Please don’t do this.”

I try to nd the right words, if there are any. “You deserve more than what I can give you, Henry. You’re sweet and funny and charming and handsome and there are plenty of girls who’l want to be with you if you let them know you. The real you.”

“But there’s only one girl I want. You. Al I’ve ever wanted is you.”

“I’ve never had a connection with anyone in my entire life like I have with you,” I say, and it’s the truth. “Ben, any of my other ex-boyfriends …

that was just dating. That’s nothing at al like what I feel for you, which is something I have no experience with. You’ve taught me so much, Henry, about movies and about life. But I’ve been in relationships before that have ended real y badly. Al of my relationships, actual y, and I need to learn from my mistakes. To focus on myself for a change and gure out what it is that I actual y want in life. Before I knew you, I never would

learn from my mistakes. To focus on myself for a change and gure out what it is that I actual y want in life. Before I knew you, I never would have admit ed I wanted to pursue something in the music industry, and now … now it’s something I real y want to explore.”

“You can do that with me,” he says. “We can do that together.”

“No. We can’t,” I say, and it pains me. Each word I ut er rips a hole in the center of my body that grows bigger and bigger until I’m afraid it wil swal ow me entirely. “I care about you so much, Henry. You’re the last person in the world I want to hurt. But I know myself and I know what I need to do. And that’s to not be your girlfriend. I understand if you’re angry with me. If you don’t want to talk to me, we don’t have to talk. It’s up to you. I’d real y like it if we could stil be friends.”

I wait for him to respond and realize my dad has been sit ing patiently in his car a few feet away. “This is me,” I say.

Henry looks at me, and his eyes, which have always been so ful —of mystery, of life—seem dul and at. “Go,” he says, his voice trembling. “Just go.”

The ride home with Dad is completely silent.

After a while, he says, “You okay, honey?”

I let loose. Al of it comes out—tears, snot, more tears—and I just cry.

Dad pul s over to the side of the road. He squeezes my arm and waits until I’ve exhausted myself. Once I’m done, I look up and he is smiling.

“Boy trouble?”

I laugh. “Yeah,” I say, “you could say that.”

“What happened?”

“I hurt someone … someone I real y care about. And I don’t know how to make it bet er.” Dad reaches over and brushes some of my hair back. “That’s pret y deep stu , Garret .”

“I know.”

“Wel , listen. What I’l say is this: love is hard. For everyone.”

“Not you and Mom,” I say. “You guys have the perfect relationship.”

“Sweetie, no relationship is perfect. There are always ups and downs.” He kisses my forehead. “I know things seem rough now, but sleep on it.

Time heals everything—corny, but true. And mat ers of the heart are always sunnier in the morning.” At home, I fal into bed without taking o my dress. Al I want to do is text Henry, or cal , but I don’t. It wouldn’t be fair. I curl into a bal and hold my legs.

That look on his face!

I’ve lost him forever.

THE END

There is nothing sadder in this life than to watch someone you love walk away after they have left you. To watch the distance between your two bodies expand until there is nothing left but empty space … and silence.

—from Someone Like You (2001)

HENRY

Relationships take time. They are days and nights and weeks. They are stretched and worked and kneaded into something you never imagined they could be. But when they are over, the end comes so quickly you barely have time to breathe, to blink. They are minutes and seconds, and one moment you have everything and the next you have nothing. So here’s my question: when you lose the most important person to you in the entire world, where is al the love—love you never even knew you were capable of—supposed to go?

GARRETT

To: Amy Goldstein

Subject: Hey …

Truthfully?

I was hoping I’d hear from you by now. I can only assume you’re uncomfortable talking to me because of this thing with Ben, and I hate that our friendship was so fragile that a guy was able to come between us. It hurts to know the two of you are hooking up. It hurts even more that I heard it from Ben and not from you.

The funny thing is that if I’d found out about this a month ago, it would have devastated me. You were my very best friend in the entire world. But I met someone who kind of changed my life … and it’s a long story that’s not worth telling—or rather, it is worth telling, but not in an e-mail, and maybe, at this point, not to you—and now I’m just sort of thinking about bigger things than you & Ben.

So, I guess the point of this note is to tell you that I forgive you, even though you haven’t apologized. I’m taking some time to “ nd myself” (how clichéd is that?), and maybe we can try this whole friend thing again in the future. If not, it was a good run while it lasted, wasn’t it?

I’ll have my people call your people.

xoxo,

G

HENRY

It’s real y over.

I don’t go into work during the weekend. I l my time with nonsense. I eat dinner alone and try to write a song on the guitar (key word: try) and check my e-mail. I don’t go on AIM. What if Garret ’s on?

She wants to be friends. But what does that mean? Were we ever real y friends? Friends don’t stay up talking on the phone Every Single Night about Stupid Lit le Things and Most Important Things until it’s light outside. Friends don’t tel each other their most secret secrets.

Friends don’t hook up.

Friends don’t ache for each other.

They just don’t.

And when two people share those things, how can one of them simply shut o al the feelings? Is there a switch, a but on I don’t know about? Is it possible to bypass the pain and hurt, the what ifs and maybes and why nots and what the fucks?