Letting Go (17 page)

“What is this about?” Jamie sat down on the chair by the window. “It sounds as if you’re worried about something. It’s not the exams, is it? Bit early for that.”

This
would’ve been easier if she could’ve done it at Jamie’s place because all their best moments happened in her house, Isabelle thought. She didn’t want to tarnish that. But Harper was probably at home and she didn’t want him witness to this disaster.

She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, not to keep the tears back, but to focus.

“Jamie ...”

“
You’re not pregnant?” he said, jumping up from the chair. His face turned white, his suntan vanishing underneath panic.

“What? No.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good.” He sat back down with relief, obviously convinced that nothing could be as worrisome as that.

“
It’s not that. But there’s something you should know.”

She cleared her throat. “I ... kissed someone else.”

“What?” It was a neutral question, so she guessed her words hadn’t registered yet.

“
I kissed someone else,” she repeated uselessly.

Jamie
got up and made two steps towards her, then stopped. “Isabelle? What are you talking about?” A confused smile made his face look friendly and unsuspecting.

She had to tell him it was
Harper. She hadn’t for a second thought of keeping that back. But she didn’t know how to do it. Her throat was sore from the tension. Her eyes filled up to the dam of her nearly translucent eyelashes. Any second now everything in her would give and she would break. She had to tell him before that happened.

“What do you mean,
you kissed someone else? You said you loved me a week ago, before you left for Paris. Remember, right here in this room? Isabelle?” He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to pull her into a hug. She resisted. It struck her how both brothers tried to hug and protect her when they saw she was distressed. That thought nearly undid her.

“Wait,
Jamie. I know what I said. I meant it. But something happened, and ...”

“In Paris?”

She shook her head no.

“Then when
—” He fell silent and she could see images forming in his head. Tracing events, putting them on a timeline, figuring out causes and consequences.

“On the way home,” she
said, her voice breaking.

“I don’t understand.” He looked pale
again. His blond hair was sticking every which way. His eyes stared at her, an empty expression in them.

Despite his words, she knew, in his heart
, he understood too well. But she needed to say it aloud.

“It happened on the way home. With
Harper.” Her heart stopped, waited to see if it deserved to beat again, and then resumed its traitorous rhythm.

“
Harper?” It sounded flat, disillusioned. It sounded like nothing she had ever heard him say before. Not even when he talked of his biggest fears, worst disappointments, the things that made him the angriest.

She didn’t deceive herself that she could fix anything, no, she knew it was over, but she rushed to explain herself. To make things seem less horrible than they looked now.
To gain a tiny bit of his forgiveness, perhaps.

“I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t even particularly like him before and ... I don’t know how or why or w
hen things changed ... But we talked a lot, a lot of things made more sense, and I think I began to see him differently. I’m not trying to find excuses, Jamie. It happened. It was so very wrong,” she could barely get the last words out. Saying them felt like she was betraying Harper. Whatever she said was wrong. Whatever she did, she hurt somebody. She had never felt so torn in her life.

“I will never forgive myself for what I did to you.”

He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. He hid his face in his hands, moaning softly. Then everything went silent for a long moment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

When he looked at her again, his expression wasn’t heartbroken or sad or disappointed. He was angry.

“
Harper! Of course.” He threw his arms in the air.

“What?”

“He initiated things, didn’t he?”

“W
— No!” She could see now where he was going with it, how he would try to blame it all on Harper, so he could make her look less guilty, more forgivable.

“It’s what
Harper does, Izzy, can’t you see? He will do anything to get what he wants and then ruin it. He’s been like this his whole miserable life. Do you know how much grief he’s caused our family?”

“It wasn’t all his fault,
Jamie. He told me about the drugs and how your dad sent him packing. He told me why he moved here. Did you even ask him about it? And he didn’t
make
me do anything.”

“Dad sent him packing? Right
. Did he make him do drugs too?” Jamie made a sound of disgust.

“No, Jamie. But after your m
om left, things weren’t easy for him. He told me he was the one who took care of the household. And of you.” Isabelle grabbed his arms, trying to shake some sense into him. “And this was my fault, too. It was mostly my fault. I let it happen.”

“
Go ahead, defend him,” Jamie scoffed. “Next you’ll say you’re in love with him,” he laughed; it was a sharp, angry laugh.

For a moment
, it seemed to Isabelle that time stopped. But it didn’t. If anything, it rushed by as she was grappling to give him a coherent answer. But she didn’t have it. At least not one that wouldn’t be tinged with a lie. She didn’t know how she felt about Harper. Right now, her head was filled with confusion and self-reproach.

“You
are
in love with him,” he said, sounding amazed and disgusted. Her heart broke all over again seeing the pained expression on his face.

“I don’t know how I feel
about anything right now. Except that I feel like shit for doing this to you, for ruining what we had, for losing your friendship ... I’m ...” Her voice deserted her and she bit her lip to stop it from trembling. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her fingers fidgeted with the buttons on her cardigan until the thread snapped and a button rattled to the floor.

“It just ... happened.”

Jamie stopped pacing, his sudden calmness was eerie. “These things don’t just happen. You have to do something, say something to make it happen, Izzy.”

“
Jamie ...”

“Which means that you made a choice, both of you.”

She nodded. They did make a choice, but looking at Jamie now,
her
sweet Jamie, she doubted it was the right one. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?” She wiped her cheeks. She couldn’t remember when she had last cried before this mess. Probably when Mom died.

“I don’t know,
Izzy. All I know right now is that I have to get away from you and go punch someone’s face.”

He walked to the door faster than she could follow. “
Jamie! Don’t do anything stupid. It’s not his fault,” she yelled after him, but she wasn’t certain he’d heard her as he slammed the front door behind him.

Dad poked his head out of his study on the ground floor. He looked up at her, standing on the steps. Her teary face
probably made him decide now was not the time to ask questions. He retreated back into his haven with a regretful half-smile.

Isabelle
wished she, too, would have a place to hide to, a place where she wouldn’t hurt like this.

She lay on her bed
and thought about what to do, but mostly she felt sorry for herself. Things between Jamie and her were over, she knew that much. But everything else was as confusing as before, if not more. How could things change in a day, she wondered? With one stupid move? Yet they could. Deep down she had a feeling that maybe that was because the move wasn’t so stupid at all.

She was dreading going to school on Monday, but
Jamie made it easier for her by avoiding her at every opportunity and ignoring her when they had to work together. Isabelle was grateful to him for not mentioning the events of the past few days. She wanted to give him time, hoping that maybe he could forgive her one day. She missed him. She had loved talking to him and having someone to rely on because it made her feel like she didn’t have to take care of everything. She was beginning to realize no one expected her to take care of everything; she was the only one that pushed herself to reach perfection.

Another realization that came with the separation was that
after a few days, when the pain of the confrontation eased, she wasn’t heartbroken over ending things with Jamie. Their relationship had been based on friendship, and now she missed him most as a friend. But she regretted that the breakup had happened the way it did, that she’d hurt his feelings when he deserved better. Chloe was right, though, if she’d loved him still, she wouldn’t even think of kissing someone else in the first place.

The most annoying thing was that everyone kept asking her what happened, did she break up with
Jamie, and why. All she was willing to say was that, yes, they’d broken up. She imagined all the wild stories people were making up to substitute for the lack of real details. She doubted anyone came up with a crazier story than the truth. She still couldn’t believe it herself. You didn’t kiss Harper and get over it. Her amazement lingered, and her longing intensified with each day that she didn’t see him. But she was too afraid to call him. Wouldn’t he have called if he wanted to see her? With the days and weeks passing with no word from him, it became clear to her that he didn’t care enough about her to seek her out. And that hurt.

“So he didn’t call?”
Chloe asked over coffee a week before their graduation day.

Isabelle
shook her head. Thinking about it made her sad. Just as she’d begin to believe him that he liked her, it turned out that maybe he didn’t like her that much after all.

“Oh, hon, you’re upset.”
Chloe squeezed her hand.

Isabelle
shrugged. “You know ... I thought that he meant it.”

“Did you try calling him?”

“No.”

“Well, maybe he’s insecure?”
Chloe tried being positive. “You did sort of turn him down when he asked you not to tell Jamie.”

“That was hardly a rejection ...”

“Think about it, Isabelle. You were sort of friends, you kissed, and then you pushed him away and went to talk to your boyfriend, who is incidentally also his brother? Not a very promising situation from his perspective.”

“But he knows
Jamie and I broke up. He must know.”

“That doesn’t in itself mean that you
want to be with him, does it?”

It
annoyed Isabelle how everything Chloe said made sense. “Do you always have to be right?”

“Of course
. I’m the smart one and you’re the pretty one,” Chloe laughed.

“If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Not when it comes to relationships. How many boyfriends have you had?”

Isabelle
grimaced.

“Well, then,”
Chloe said as if that explained everything.

“Does the make-
out session with Harper count as half of a relationship?” Isabelle was trying to get over her heartbreak. Joking about it lightened her mood, but that only lasted for a few moments before the regrets and sadness swamped her again.

“With
Harper, I’d say it counts as two thirds.”

“Thanks.”
Her smile was wane. She motioned the waitress for a refill and Chloe tsk-tsked. She tried to get Isabelle to drink green tea because it was healthier, but Isabelle didn’t like it. So they reached an agreement to alternate between tea and coffee every time they came to the café. Right now, Isabelle didn’t care in the least about Chloe’s disapproval when it came to beverages.

“If it helps any, I really believe he’s a good guy and that he’s not ignoring you on purpose.
He did say he didn’t want you to get hurt, right? I think you should make the first move because maybe he’s trying to give you space. You broke up with Jamie, you needed some time alone to get to terms with everything that happened. Maybe he’s being the nice guy, not pressuring you into anything, letting you decide.”

Isabelle
made a sip of the fresh coffee the waitress had poured. “But how do I know that?”

“You don’t, you’ll have to risk it and ask him,”
Chloe raised her right eyebrow.

“What if he doesn’t want me and I make a fool of myself?”

“That’s what love’s for, to make fools of us.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t think it’s worth it?” Chloe asked, watching Isabelle.

“It is,
but ...”

“Well, there you have your answer. If he matters, you’ll be willing to do anything. If not, then forget him.”