If He Had Been with Me (8 page)

Jamie said that once he had his driver’s license, we would be free to be together whenever we liked. Nothing would keep us apart except my curfew.

Mostly we just drive around. Sometimes we park behind the library and make out. It’s uncomfortable with my head pressing into the door and my knees bent, but I pretend that it isn’t because I like the idea of making out in his car; like a scene from a movie, the windows fog up in the cold and the radio plays our song.

I don’t know much about driving. Jamie is the only other person my age I’ve ridden with, but I think he must be a good driver. I feel safe with him. I like to watch him drive, to study his profile, to see his eyes focused away from me. He is so remote from me, and it makes me want him more.

My mother has always said that my father will teach me to drive someday, and I’m still waiting for that day. For now, it doesn’t matter; there is never a place I want to be that Jamie isn’t going too.

***

Finny got his driver’s license on his birthday. Aunt Angelina taught him to drive ages ago. She says he is a good driver, but she is still terrified of him killing himself on the road some night. It’s hard for me to understand how she jumps so quickly from driving to death. Every night, people ride around in cars without dying.

I am a virgin, and I cannot drive.

I am afraid of losing my virginity in Jamie’s car. I stay on guard for a fit of passion that could cause me to make this crucial mistake, but it never comes. I’m in control when I let him slide his finger inside me; I know what’s happening when he takes my hand and cups it around his erection.

I never let Jamie see me when we touch each other and I never look at him. When I open my shirt and let him kiss my breasts, I watch him to make sure his eyes are closed. I want him to see me for the first time when we make love. It’s part of my daydream—slowly undressing each other and seeing for the first time all of the secret parts of us we have hidden.

And it makes me less afraid.

***

One evening, Jamie asks me to hold the wheel for him as he reaches for a CD. I trust that if he asks me to do it, then it must mean I can do it. I nearly run us off the road. Jamie grabs the wheel and rights us again.

“Geez, Autumn,” he mumbles. He doesn’t say anything else until he pulls into my driveway at curfew. “Maybe you should never learn to drive,” he says after he kisses me. “I can’t stand the idea of you killing yourself.”

I know that someday I will die, and I know that someday I will lose my virginity; these two things seem equally probable, equally impossible.

Finny’s curfew is half an hour later than mine, and on the weekends I listen for his car as I lie in bed waiting for sleep. It’s comforting, hearing his motor and then the car door slam, the creak of his back door. I watch for the sudden glow of his bedroom window when he flicks on the light. He crosses the room with his shirt off. His light goes out again, and I know he is lying in his bed by the window, two panes of glass and twenty feet of air separating us.

I’m feeling sick the last day of the semester, but I have to go—I have three finals that day. I stare at the clock all morning, counting the hours until I can go home and go to bed. At lunch, I start to feel nauseous and only have a bottled water. Jamie is sweet to me and strokes my hair when I lay my head on the table.

“Baby, I think you should go home,” he says. I rock my head back and forth on the table to signify shaking my head no. After lunch, Jamie carries my book bag to Mr. Laughegan’s class for me. I don’t bother going through his drawers today; I immediately go to my own desk and slump down in the seat. With Christmas coming and two weeks of freedom just a few hours away, everyone else is in a great mood, test or no test. I listen to the sound of the other kids filing in and taking their desks and I want to die. Jamie lays one hand on my back and talks to Sasha about a movie they both want to see that I don’t. The others are making plans to go to the mall, complaining about visiting relatives, talking about catching up on sleep. Sleep sounds good to me.

Mr. Laughegan’s test is easy for me, even in my weakened condition. I finish first and lay the bundle of papers face down on Mr. Laughegan’s desk. He looks at me, and I know he is taking in my pale skin and blank expression. I smile weakly at him before he can ask me if I am okay. I walk to my seat and think that I should study for my geometry exam, but my stomach is feeling worse and I go back to resting my head on my desk.

By the time nearly everyone else is done with the test, I am wondering if I’m going to throw up. My insides are churning below my ribcage and my saliva glands are working in my mouth; I may need to make an exit. I try to gauge just how likely it is that I’m about to vomit. I don’t feel like I can leave unless it is a certainty, but I cannot abide the idea of not making it to the bathroom on time. I’m across the room from the door. There is a trashcan between me and the threshold, but that would be a fate worse than death.

The last student lays her test down on Mr. Laughegan’s desk and he stands.

“Okay, what did you guys think of the test?” he says. I bolt out of my seat and run for the door with my hand over my mouth. Mr. Laughegan steps to the side as I barrel past him. “Jamie, Finn, sit back down please,” I hear him say as I run into the hallway.

It turns out my timing is perfect, though I couldn’t have waited a second longer. I kneel on the floor of the stall with one hand holding my hair back and the other holding my tiara in place so that it doesn’t fall in.

Afterward, I rinse my mouth out in the sink and look at my face in the mirror. I’m still pale but I feel much better. I take a deep breath. There are still twenty minutes left in class. I need to go back before Mr. Laughegan sends someone to check on me.

I keep my head down and my eyes on the floor as I enter the room again. I hear Mr. Laughegan’s voice softly.

“Autumn—”

“Oh my God, are you pregnant?” Alexis shouts. My knees lock and my head whips up. I stare at her.

“What? No,” I say.

“Are you sure?” Victoria says. “Because you—”

“Alexis, Victoria,” Mr. Laughegan says sharply. He turns back to me. “Let me write you a pass for the nurse.”

“No,” I say. I shake my head and sit back down at my desk. “I have another test next hour. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” he says. I nod and sit up straight to show how much better I am feeling. Mr. Laughegan shrugs and goes back to his closing comments for the semester. “Okay, since we didn’t finish
Jane
Eyre
in time for the final, I’m going to have to assign some pages for you to read over the break.”

Jamie stretches his foot out so that our sneakers are pressed up against each other. I copy Mr. Laughegan’s assignment into my notebook and smile at Jamie.

“Hey,” he says when the bell rings. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. Outside of the classroom, he pulls me into a hug. He’s headed across campus to gym; we won’t see each other for the rest of the school day.

“Love you, sick girl,” he says. “Even when your breath smells like vomit.”

“Thanks,” I say. He kisses my mouth and ruffles my hair.

***

I survive my math test and even the bus ride home. Finny and Sylvie get off just ahead of me. They walk down Elizabeth Street holding hands. I loiter at the bus stop and then follow thirty feet behind them until they come to the corner where Sylvie turns off. They kiss good-bye and Sylvie crosses the street. Finny waves at her and starts down the sidewalk again.

“Hey, Finny, wait,” I call out. From the corner of my eye, I see Sylvie turn around and look at us. I ignore her. Finny stops and turns. He waits for me to catch up with him. I’m surprised that he doesn’t look surprised. “Hey,” I say again when I reach him.

“Hey,” he says. I start walking again toward our houses and he follows suit.

“I have a favor to ask,” I say. I keep my eyes on the ground as I walk.

“Okay,” Finny says.

“Could you make sure that Alexis and Taylor and Victoria and—” I stop myself from adding Sylvie. “And everybody don’t go around telling people that I’m pregnant?”

“Why would they do that?” he says. This solves a mystery, and part of me is relieved. I’d always wondered how someone like Finny could be friends with girls like them; apparently he doesn’t realize what kind of girls they are. I understand that. I used to not know either. And Finny always thinks the best of people; perhaps he thought that they asked if I was pregnant out of concern.

“Because—” I falter on how to say it so that I’m not insulting his friends.

“You’re not, right?” he says quietly.

“Phineas!” I say. I look up for the first time to glare at him. He looks straight back at me.

“I—” he says. “I mean, they did say it was a possibility—”

“No, it’s not.” I say. “I’ve never even had sex.”

“Oh,” he says. His face changes to the startled expression I expected him to have when I called his name. I look back at the ground. We walk in silence for another minute. We’re coming up on our houses now.

“Could you just make sure—”

“Yeah,” he says. His tone is curt and I think I’ve offended him. It is true though; they are capable of spreading a rumor like that. For all I know, half the school already thinks I’ll be a new mother in the spring.

“Thanks,” I say. He doesn’t answer me. I glance at his face. He’s frowning. We walk up the lawn together and part ways when we get close to the porches. He does not say good-bye to me.

***

I go straight to my room and crawl into bed. I close my eyes and try to sleep. My body is starting to relax when I remember the way Finny looked at me when I told him I was a virgin, the way he frowned.

A spike of ice impales me through the middle. I can’t breathe around the spike; it’s too large. The cold spreads from my stomach into my lungs and heart, but it does not numb the pain.

What
does
it
matter
to
you?
I ask myself. The ice melts into a puddle in the pit of my aching stomach.

My Finny.

He
isn’t your Finny.

I know that. But there is a difference between knowing something and feeling it. I’ve known that he wasn’t my Finny anymore, but now he is on the other shore, separated from me by an ocean I am afraid to cross, and I can feel it.

I’m not feeling better until Christmas morning five days later. I eat the eggs my mother makes as if I haven’t eaten in years. My father comes downstairs and kisses my mother for longer than normal. I ignore them and keep eating. When I’m finished, he goes into the living room to take the first load of presents over to Aunt Angelina’s and I go upstairs to get dressed.

When we were small, Finny and I would camp out under whichever Christmas tree we would open presents at in the morning. We’d lie side by side, staring at the tree, adorned with either my mother’s perfectly color-coordinated, store-bought glass ornaments or his mother’s mix-match of exotic beaded tassels from India and her eccentric creations of clay or paper.

We would whisper together and stare at the tree until the lights became blurry. In the morning, we would wake together and then run to get our parents so we could open presents.

I put on a black skirt and a green sweater. After a moment of deliberation, I choose a silver tiara that is so low it is nearly a headband. There were three Christmases after The Mothers decided we could not sleep together anymore that Finny and I were in such a rush to get to each other that The Mothers could not convince us to get dressed, and we opened our presents in our pajamas as if we had stayed the night together. It hasn’t been like that for years, of course.

***

Aunt Angelina hugs and kisses me. Mom hugs Finny and Dad shakes his hand around the last batch of presents he is carrying. Finny is wearing a button-up shirt and khakis. Our eyes flicker to each other but we don’t say anything.

By tradition, we open our presents one at a time, and we all comment and exclaim over each item. Finny is quieter than usual, but I don’t think much of it. I wonder if he’s still mad at me for saying his friends would spread a rumor about me.

The gift marked as from Aunt Angelina and Phineas contains a tiara made of silver snowflakes. I bound across the room to hug Aunt Angelina. My mother has accepted but never encouraged the tiaras. Sometimes I wonder if having an illegitimate child and a string of lovers has kept Aunt Angelina young. Perhaps it has. Or maybe marriage has just aged my mother.

“Thank you,” I say. Aunt Angelina squeezes me back.

“Phineas picked it out,” she says.

“Thanks, Finny,” I say as I sit back down on the floor. He only nods, but then he smiles softly when I put the tiara on my head along with the first one.

By the time we are finished with the presents, it is after noon. The Mothers go into the kitchen to get lunch together. I go to my favorite chair by the window to start one of the books I got. I have a nice pile I am looking forward to working through in the next week we still have off. Dad and Finny watch some sports thing on the couch. I barely register it when Dad gets up and leaves the room. He often has to take important calls from The Office, even on holidays.

“Hey, Autumn?” Finny says. His voice is suddenly so close and low that I start in my chair. I look up. Finny is standing by the arm of the chair looking down at me. His hands are stuffed in his pockets.

“Yeah?” I say.

“I don’t think the favor you asked me is going to be a problem.”

“Thanks,” I say. I smile, but he doesn’t.

“What are you two whispering about?” Aunt Angelina says from the doorway.

“Nothing,” we both say. She cocks her head to the side and smiles at us.

“Lunch is ready,” she says.

***

“So how is Finny holding up?” my mother asks as we cross the yard back over to our house. It is evening now and I rub my arms against the cold, glad the walk isn’t far.

“What are you talking about?” I say.

“The breakup,” she says. I catch myself before I stop in my tracks from surprise.

“Finny and Sylvie broke up?” I say.

“I thought you would know that,” my mother says. She opens the door and we take off our coats in the entryway.

“Mom, why in the world would I know that?” I say.

“Angelina said he was pretty broken up about it the night it happened, but I thought he seemed okay today,” she says, ignoring my exasperation. She goes into the kitchen with a plate of leftovers for the fridge. “Of course,” she calls from the kitchen, “it’s always hard to tell with Finny.” I follow her and stand in the doorway. I doubt that Finny would dump Sylvie because she told someone that I was pregnant, but the thought has crossed my mind anyway.

“Why did he break up with her?” I ask.

“
She
broke up with him,” Mom says.

“Seriously?”

“You’re surprised too?” she asks.

“It just always seemed like she was so into him,” I say.

“That’s what I said,” Mom says. “And of course I’m biased, but he’s such a handsome and sweet boy, I don’t know why she wouldn’t be.”

“I hope he’s okay,” I say. Thinking of Finny with a broken heart hurts me. I want to ask Sylvie what she could possibly be thinking. Whatever her reply would be, it wouldn’t matter; I’d still want to pull her ponytail for hurting him.

“Why don’t you call and ask him?” my mother says. “Or go back over there?” I roll my eyes.

“Mother,” I say. She sighs and shakes her head.

I go upstairs with my books. Finny’s light is on, but his curtains are closed. Aunt Angelina said he seemed pretty broken up the night it happened. For someone as quiet and stoic as Phineas Smith, that says a lot. I remember the couple of times I saw Finny cry when we were kids. My throat tightens.

“Fuck you, Sylvie,” I say.