Cross My Heart (8 page)

“No, no,” I say
quickly. “I think this is gorgeous.”

“I’m just not a swirly cursive ki
nd of girl, I guess.” She sighs
. “I don’t
know why I’m trying for anything traditional.”

I laugh
. “Sarah, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but you know how it is . . . white dress . . . swirly cu
rsive invitations.” She shrugs
.

Daniel and Sarah started dating just before Daniel graduated high school. Sarah had two years left—she
was in Phillip’s class. Daniel
went to work for my dad, but he and Sarah continued to see each other until she finished school. Afterwards, she made
plans to move in with a friend
and get a degree in nursing from the community college.

Things were going great. But then, after a year or so, she got pregnant. T
here was a huge blowout
. She wouldn’t marry Daniel, which infuriated her parents. They decided they wouldn’t pay for her to finish school, or for her apartment. The problem wasn’t with Daniel, she later
explained, it’s just that she
always wanted the perfect wedding—to start things right.
Daniel loved her, and she loved him, but they figured if they were meant to be together, they’d love each other just as much after they had their baby.

Daniel moved Sarah into our house, with
my parent
s’
blessing
, and he continued to work while she took some time off. A few months later, Joshua was born. Daniel immediately proposed, and Sarah said yes. She started
school again, and they
made plans to move into their own
place as soon as they could afford it.

The entire ordeal changed Daniel,
though,
and
it
’
s because of this
I know he expects more from me;
he doesn
’
t want me making the same mistakes he did. Since he and Sarah got it backwards, it
’
s even more important to him that I do things in the right order. 

“But think of how adorable
Joshy
is going to look in his baby tuxedo
,” I point
out.

Sarah laughs
. “Daniel swears he’s going to be walking by the wedding.”

“See? Can you imagine
anything more perfect?” I ask
. “A wedding in the park . . . Daniel and Josh . . . people who love you guys. . . .
And God, Sarah, this isn’t nineteen-fifty
. No one is going to faint if you show up to your own wedding wearing white. I mean, look at you. You guys are like, the most perfect little family ever.”

She
runs her fingers through
her straight, brown hair at its part. “The most perfect family living with my future in-laws.”

“You are not a burden.
I don’t know what any of us are
gonna
do when you move out. And I know Mom: she’s
gonna
die if she doesn’t get to see her little man every day. I’m surprised they haven’t mentioned building you guys a guest house out back, just to keep you close by.”

She smiles
.
“You’re sweet, Jaden. You always know what to say to make me feel better. I should’ve made you my maid of honor instead of my sister.”

“I’m happy to be a bridesmaid. Besides, Melissa deserves it for sticki
ng by you.” A brief silence falls
bet
ween us. “You know,” I continue
, “I feel sorry for your parents. Especially your mom. I mean, if she would just spend five minutes with
Joshy
. . . .”

She sighs
. “Which is why she stays as far away as possible.”

“Are you send
ing them an invitation?” I ask
quietly.

She shrugs
. “Maybe. If I can ever pick one.”

“You should. You know . . . just in case.”

“Yeah.”

“And Sarah? If you want to go with swirly cursive, go with swirly cursive, okay? This is
your
wedding: don’t let anyone else tell you how to plan it.”

Sarah rolls off my bed and stan
d
s. “Thanks, Jaden,” she says
, smiling.

“You’re welcome.”

She leaves
the room, shut
ting the door
behind her. I spread out across my
blue comforter
and continue
reading.
When I finally pause
long
enough to check the time, it’
s after midnight.
Just one more chapter
.
But then the story is almost over, and I ca
n’t stop.
It
’
s past
two in the morning
when
I read the final words
, finishing the novella in one sitting.

I sigh and close
the boo
k, thinking about everything I’ve
just read: about love, and longing, and the inability to act
on romantic
feelings. It’
s a terrible story
—terrible because of what
happens . . .
what
does
n’t
happen
.

I
turn
off my lamp, plunging the room into dar
kness. My spinning thoughts keep
me awake, though, even as I
try to
force sleep. I’m n
ot sure when it finally happens
—
when I slip
into unconsciousness—
but I do. Still, I dream
. I dream about Ethan and Mattie
and what might have been.

“I hate
Zeena
Frome
.” I slam
my
paper
lunch bag onto the picnic table in front
of Parker. A cold breeze nips at my bare neck. I flip
up the
collar of my jacket, wishing
for
a scarf.

He
glances up from what looks
like
a science text.
“
Is this supposed to mean something to me?
”

I pick up my leg, climb over the deteriorating wooden bench—rough and gray, with nails popping out of joints—and sit down across from him. “
Zeena
Frome
. Ethan’s wife.
I
hate
her.”

A surprised expression crosses
his face
; there’s an edge to his eyes
. “What?
Why?”

“Because she’s such a faker. I mean, there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. You know that, right?”

“Wait.” He pauses
for a
moment, thinking as he narrows
his eyes. “You mean you’re already finished?”

“Yes.”

“I know you’re
an
assiduous
intellectual
and all, but
I was under the impression
I had a week to read it.”

“
Look who’s been studying Ms.
Tugwell’s
SAT vocabulary lists.” M
y eyes
roll
dramatically
.

He smirks
, features
softening
.

“Anyway
, you won’t need a week,” I go
on
, shaking my head. “Once I started I couldn’t put it down. It was so addictive . . . like a train wreck.
”

“A train wreck,
”
he repeats
, disbelieving
.

“
You know—you don’t really want to see blood and destruction
and death because you know it’
ll haunt you forever, but at th
e same time you can’t look away?
”

“You
’
re
comparing
Ethan
Frome
to a
train wreck
?”

“Yes!” I cry
, smack
ing my palm against the jagged surface of the picnic table
.
I pick up a splinter in my finger.
It stings.
T
he tiny
sliver of wood protrud
es
from my skin.
“That’s e
xactly what I’m comparing it to,” I go on, voice lower.
“
It’s
awful
.”

“A good awful, right?”

I
pinch my fingernails
together and carefully pluck the splinter
out
. “A horrible awful. A
tragic
awful.”

A
g
roup of
sophomore girls scamper
s
by our table,
mov
ing toward the b
uilding. A couple of them slow
do
wn, staring at us as they pass. I hear
a few giggles, then
high-pitched
mutteri
ng.
They
’
re talking about us.
Parker does
n’t seem t
o notice
.

“So, what happens?” he asks
.

“I can’t tell you
. You have to read it.”

“I’
m going to read it. I j
ust . . . you know . . . want to
know what I’m in for.”

I eye him, cautious.
He sounds sincere enough.
Like m
aybe he
’
s not one of those guys who relies on
SparkNotes
or lifts his essays from the internet. Anyway, if he didn
’
t read it, I
’
d know in a second
when it came time to brainstorm
.
“It’s awful,” I say
, shaking
my head. “There are no words.”

His
eyes
glaze over
,
as if
he’s working overtime
to keep them from rolling
. “I get it. It’s awful.
Enough with the head bobbing.
You can be more specific.
”

I sit up straighter and tuck
my hair behind my ears, then open my lunch bag.
“There’s this horrible accident. But it’s not really an accident. See,
Zeena
and Ethan are married, right?
Zeena
brings in her cousin, Mattie, to help arou
nd the house because she’s
sick or something. Well, Ethan decides that he
sorta
has a thing for Mattie, but he doesn’t know how to act on it.”

“I guess that’s where the
whole romance comes in,” he says
.

“That’
s just it,” I continue
, pulling my sandwich out of the bag
. “There
is
no romance. Ethan and Mattie don’t do
anything
. And
Zeena
? S
he’s just awful, complaining and moaning about how sick she is. Get this: she goes to a doctor who says she shouldn’t
lift a finger anymore, and
that
she
needs a ‘hired girl’ to come
and take care of her.”

“I thought that’s what Mat
tie was for,” Parker interrupts
. He highlights a passage in his textbook, the bright yellow
marks
streaking across the page.

“Yeah, well, not anymore. She realizes something is going on between Mattie and Ethan, and decides to kick her out.”

“Makes sense
.”

My mouth drops
in indignation,
a spark of anger prickling at my stomach
. “
No! It doesn’t! Ethan and
Zeena
are
not
in love.”

He props his head up with his fist
, elbow on the table, eyeing me. P
erplexed.
“So you’re telling me
the tragedy of this novel is a loveless marriage and a loser who can’t
act on his adulterous feelings.
”