Love Blind (16 page)

“We'll talk about it.” Lila gave me another squeeze. “You were careful?”

I nodded.

“Okay. Can we stay in here or do you want to be alone?”

“Alone.”

They slowly left my room. Only I suddenly wasn't sure that I did want to be alone.

I reached around on my nightstand until I found my iPod, scrolled to Kyle's playlist, cranked it until my ears hurt, and wished to feel less.

◊ ◊ ◊

I walked into the north campus building feeling like both everything and nothing had changed. My feet steered me past the empty practice rooms and the classes full of bored summer school kids. To Kyle. Alone in the studio. Where I knew he'd be engineering a music-only show with prerecorded station IDs. Not talking, still. I saw him and my stomach filled with guilt.

He was smart not to have sex with me. I wasn't even close to being worthy of a guy like Kyle. I was pushy and sometimes
sort of awful. I didn't know how to be better. How to be different. How to be enough.

“You were right,” I said the second he looked up from the computer. I stepped close to him. Enough to smell the citrus detergent and grab his hand if I wanted to.

I wanted to. But didn't.

A corner of his mouth pulled up. I loved that because it was so unusual for him. “About what?”

“When you have sex. Make it a big deal. It should be a big deal.”

His face fell.

I felt dirty all over again.

Instead of trying to explain or trying to smooth things over or even figure out why I
should
smooth things over when he'd passed in the first place, I turned and walked away.

T
he look on her face crushed me. I'd let her down. She was more broken than I ever thought I'd see her. And angry. And hurt. I hated that she'd had sex with Chaz. Jesus, why didn't she know me well enough not to tell me about it? She should never have asked me to do it with her in the first place. She had to have known it would be nearly impossible for me.
Nearly
. I could have. I should have. God, I'd wanted to. That killed me the most. It wasn't impossible. I was just incapable of being what she needed.

Imagining Hailey with that douche was the worst kind of torture. But it was equally as bad imagining her with me. It almost hurt more. I wondered if she'd always feel outside of my grasp, or if that was a prison I'd built for myself.

I looked at the soundboard, switching it over to automated
so I could get out, out, out. I wasn't sure I was even breathing. When I hit the hallway, I sprinted out of the building. The second the sun hit my face, I stopped. I took a bunch of deep breaths. And could just barely see the top of her head as she walked around the corner in the direction of her house. Her shoulders slightly hunched.

I should have run to her. Pulled her into a hug. Told her I was sorry. Told her so many things. I had notebooks full of words at home. Stacks of them. But for a girl I cared about more than maybe anyone else, I didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to undo what had been done. What I'd done. What she'd done. What Chaz had done.

The farther away Hailey walked, the more I knew I couldn't follow. The more work I knew I had to make myself better. I had the beginnings of a list, but there was more. There should be more.

I let her go, and it was as if someone had stretched my body full of rubber bands, all of them too tightly pulled to really hold me together.

Hailey disappeared, and every band snapped. Instead of going back into the station, I walked for my bike, climbed on, and rode home. Mom got to have days in front of the TV. I could do the same. I knew it would do nothing to make me feel better, but I didn't give a shit. I'd lost something I could have had. For her and for me. Whatever misery Hailey felt, I deserved more.

◊ ◊ ◊

The front door slammed, and I jerked so hard my hand hit the floor, saving me from falling off the couch.

“Your teacher from the radio station called today,” Mom snapped. “Care to guess why?”

“Shit,” I muttered.

“Don't you dare use that language in my house. I'm trying to keep this family together by myself, Kyle. Do you understand?”

I understood all too well. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Daytime TV was crap, even when all I wanted was the mindless chatter. “Yeah,” I mumbled. I should have at least let Mr. Schmidt know I'd preset the show and bailed.

“Kyle.” She actually stomped her foot. “Grow up and show me that you might be able to take care of yourself next year. You're not working. You're not doing anything except this small commitment to the radio station. Be your word.”

Be my word. Ha.

I was less worried about me next year than how Mom would do, but that wasn't something I could say out loud. And I wasn't about to give Hailey up to the firing squad. Mom didn't deserve to know that part of me. I'd let her be angry. Furious. And hope it didn't spiral her down. Last time I thought she was teetering on the edge and was ready to spend a few days in bed, it had never happened.

“I needed to leave early today,” I said. “I'm not feeling great.”

Both true.

Mom frowned so deeply the lines of her face grew darker. “Honey, you need to take care of yourself. I don't want to worry about you.”

There was no winning with Mom. Never would be. I rubbed my eyes. “What do you need from me, Mom?”

“I don't
need
anything, Kyle.” Then she sighed.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“It's okay. I'm tired. I didn't think everything would be this hard.”

“Can I help?” The offer felt like a noose, but what was I going to do?

“Clean this up, okay?” She pointed to the water glass and cereal bowl on the coffee table.

“Okay.”

◊ ◊ ◊

Hailey had eviscerated me with her sad eyes and pathetic declaration.
Eviscerated me.
I woke up every morning thinking of her and realized I couldn't go back to her. Couldn't apologize for being angry at something that was my own fault. Couldn't explain that maybe I would have helped her cross that one item off her list if I'd been able to find the words and say them. Write them. Anything. She'd gotten hurt. And it was because of me. None of my words on the matter could alter that.

The whole event set me up for a shit summer. I'd let myself
hope for different. But I should have known not to build up expectations. It was the same as every summer since my dad left. Quiet. Lonely. Depressing.

I couldn't get a job because I sucked at interviews. So I volunteered at the library and read everything. I worked at the station twice a week. Listened to music. Saw Pavel, who still refused to discuss freshman year because it went against Zig Ziglar's positive-thinking philosophy. And every night, I thought about visiting Hailey. Stared at my bike and wondered if I could go see her and we could be how we were before. But every day that went by felt like another day too long. I should have followed her home. Should have shown up at her house and told her that the list meant something. That she meant something. That the world would right itself again, but I didn't have it in me. Didn't know if I could lie to her that way because I had no clue if the world would ever feel right in any way.

◊ ◊ ◊

I relaxed against the wall of the library,
On the Road
resting on my lap. My mind faded from Kerouac's words to the monotony of the summer. The monotony was my fault, of course, I felt too paralyzed to change anything.

“Where is your girl, my friend?” Pavel asked as he stopped next to the bookshelf in front of me. He came often because he hated the heat, burned too easily, and got tired of taking his sisters to the pool every day.

“I don't have a girl. I've never had a girl.”

Pavel narrowed his eyes in the same way his mom did when she disapproved of her daughters' language. “You've never had a
lover
. You've had a girl.”

“I've had neither. Just me. And Mom. And the station. And the library.”

He slid a book off the shelf. He placed it on top of his head and walked around like he was getting ready for a runway show, his long arms outstretched. “She has a new lover?”

I shrugged. Yes. No. I couldn't say. She'd
had
one.

Pavel placed the book back on the shelf. “You are always in the library or at the station for the summer. I think it is time for you to start reading
Cosmopolitan
. You know you can check them out from here?”

I shook my head. “I'm not reading
Cosmo
.”

Pavel looked at the ceiling, then back at me. “You must stop pouting about losing the girl. You did not read
Cosmopolitan
as I told you, and now you're alone. You have done it to yourself.”

And the messed-up thing was that Pavel was right. He didn't even know the whole story and still he was right. Except about the
Cosmo
part. I'd lost Hailey because of my own stupidity. Because I hadn't worked hard enough. Hadn't been what I wanted to be. Hadn't done the things on my fear list that would turn me into a guy who could speak. Say the right things at the right time.

“Have respect for the library, pick out a book, and read something,” I said.

Pavel stared at me, his face expressionless. “I'll come back with a magazine. I know where to find you.” And he stalked away like he had a mission.

◊ ◊ ◊

Summer vacation was half over and I had nothing to show for it. I sat on the curb and stared at my list after working the station that day, half hating it. I'd started more than once to crumple up that piece of paper to throw it in the trash, but couldn't do it. Like I should have forgotten about Hailey and couldn't do that either. I held on to both, despite the sick feeling they sometimes left in my stomach.

I went over the list again. The one I had memorized. One item on my list wasn't doable right then, but I could do a trial run. Instead of driving across the country, I could drive across the state. My body twitched a few times, pushing me forward. Every time I crossed something off the list, I was better than before, right? Every item off the list was one step closer to deserving Hailey.

I couldn't get in the car and drive hundreds of miles without giving anyone warning. I couldn't. But when
I couldn't
ran through my head, so did Hailey. She'd laugh at
I can't
and ask me,
Why the hell not?
And then she'd probably scoot low in the seat to put her feet on the dash. In that brief second, I knew I was going to do it. I was going to take advantage of the car that Mom used for work most days, but hadn't today. I had hours. Almost a day and a half before she needed it again. I jumped up
from my spot on the curb before I could chicken out. I climbed into Mom's car and turned the opposite way out of the parking lot than I normally did.

Two hundred miles outside of Chicago, the pressure finally began to fade. Who would even miss me if I didn't stop? Pavel? Maybe. All he'd need was a phone call, and even though I was his only friend the way he was mine, he'd say,
Good for you, Kyle, with the positive thinking and doing something drastic.
My Russian friend loved big, dramatic showmanship.

Mom. I was afraid to be too far away from her. But my guess was that it would take her two days to notice I was gone. She'd be more likely to call the cops about the missing car than her missing son. Though maybe that wasn't true. She'd be out of sorts without me around, but I knew after her schedule this week that tomorrow would be a sleep day.

It's not like I was actually considering continuing on, but with the road in front of me, I could understand why people did it. Climbed into their cars and never looked back. Understanding the need for escape was why I'd put a cross-country drive on the list in the first place.

I pulled into a random rest stop an hour or so after the sun had gone down, and finally understood the “rush” of checking something off the list. And I hadn't even checked this off, just gotten a taste of what it would be like when I did go all the way.

Hailey probably jumped into her items with both feet and eyes closed. Not me. Obviously. I climbed out of the driver's
seat, stretching my stiff body. Mine was one of three cars in front of the bathrooms, whose stench filled the parking lot. But I was alone. The good kind of alone. I leaned against the hood and breathed in the hot and slightly rank summer air of a place I'd never been.

I'd been gone for hours. Just to drive. Told no one. And it felt good—no,
fucking fantastic
—to get in the car and run away.

For the first time all summer, I was glad I hadn't given up on the possibility of Hailey, even though it hurt to think about her. Listening to voices echo through the dark parking lot, I was even gladder I hadn't given up on the list.

N
o band. No school. No Kyle. I would stare at the list every morning but hadn't even planned out what I'd do next.

Tess, despite her nannying job, and despite her attitude about my list, offered to help.

“I realize,” she said as she pulled me from my house, “that you'd prefer to sit and mope in your morose state and continue to write songs.”

I let my feet drag as the screen door slapped shut behind us. When had it gotten dark out? The days were beginning to blend.

“And don't get me wrong.” She opened the passenger's side of her car. “The songs you're writing kick ass. But it's time for you to join the world again, Hailey.”

I hadn't been nearly as bad as Tess was suggesting, but it
was pointless to argue with her when she got like this. She climbed into the car and pulled out of the driveway to my “surprise destination.”