Lucid (12 page)

“I know I said you wouldn’t be alone up there, but would you mind being the only one to talk today? I wrote my speech out, and I’ve rehearsed it a bunch of times, and I cry every time. I just can’t get through it.”

I wind my fingers through his free hand and squeeze hard.

“We can do this any way you want. But I think since you’re feeling like that, we should try to prep you to give the speech. Maybe we’ll change a line or two.”

“I tried that.”

“Have you tried swallowing real hard, just before you get to the place before you cry? It always works.”

“It won’t. It won’t.” He starts tearing up.

I haven’t seen him cry since the night he drove to my house to tell me that Bill had been killed in the crash. The patrolman had called Bill’s folks, and his dad called Gordy crying and asked if he would tell Bill’s friends. Gordy immediately jumped in his car, tears on his face, and drove about ninety miles an hour to my house so I
wouldn’t hear it from anybody else. That’s the kind of guy Gordy is. And gorgeous, too. Just ask anybody.

“Pull over,” I say softly. “Let’s see the speech.” He pulls over and shows it to me. It’s folded up about twenty-five times and since it’s in pencil is almost indecipherable. I scan it. Really sweet, really from the heart. I’m proud that he would even think of saying something this emotional in front of the guys.

“I love this, Gordy. You have to give it. And you and I are going to sit here and rehearse and rehearse until you’re happy with your performance. And it doesn’t matter how many classes we miss.”

It takes about eight readings until he isn’t crying anymore. He thanks me for the tip about swallowing, which seems to be helping him. I wouldn’t make too large a bet on whether or not he’d cry, but at least he’ll read it. As many times as I’ve seen him cry (which might be five or six), he always swears that no one else has ever seen him crying, even his mom. Guys are weird.

We get to school in time for first period, only missing homeroom. By lunch my heart is jumping on the way to the hill. I am so ashamed to even be thinking about you-know-who when Bill should be the only thing on my mind. But the truth is I can’t think about much else. Not only is he not in his usual spot under the tree, but Kelly says casually, “Don’t bother looking for Mr. or Mrs. Porcella. They were both missing from my second period today.” She raises her eyebrows in an attempt at lewd inference.

“Think they’re having a hot lunch?” Lila is more direct.

“Hope so for her sake,” Kelly adds. “She looks like she could use it.”

So I bawl them out for joking about my friend and spend the
rest of lunch praying that the girls can’t hear my heart pounding through my chest. Of course he and Amanda are together. Why shouldn’t they be?

I fight to think of Bill and how he deserves my full attention and loyalty today. Which makes me feel worse because I can’t seem to do that. Every cell in my body is aflame with jealousy over a guy I don’t know who doesn’t even like me. That’s how I roll.

By the time almost a thousand people are filling the stands, I still haven’t tamed my mind. I feel completely numb. I keep looking for James everywhere. The cheerleading squad files in wearing their uniforms, with Amanda in the lead. No James. No James anywhere. Then, just as Gordy gets up to speak, squeezing my knee on the way—

—I see him. He enters at the far end of the bleachers carrying Pablo, the mutt he adopted on Wednesday. He simply climbs the steps and finds a seat. He keeps hugging that little mutt and kissing its head as if they were alone in the world.

Lost in the dangerous alleys of my obsessed mind, I suddenly realize that Gordy has been talking, is in the middle of his speech, and is looking right at me while I have been fixated on Pablo and his owner. I can’t believe that I’d let Gordy down this way. I finally snap out of it and focus on what he’s saying about our dead friend.

“I can’t help but think about the life he had yet to live, all of the things we may get to do that he won’t: enjoy summer again, graduate from high school, go to college, fall in love for real…”

The eye contact between us seems to jolt him and he starts to cry. Everyone around me is deeply moved and touched, and the more Gordy has to swallow and start over, the more everyone connects to him. In this moment I want to believe that we are all connecting a
little more to Bill’s memory. Maybe a group remembrance isn’t as horrible an idea as I’d thought it’d be.

Then suddenly, he’s finished. The crowd applauds in support of Gordy and in appreciation of Bill. I stand and meet him halfway. I give him the biggest hug out there in front of everyone, he hugs me back, and it’s like we are all alone, even though every eye is on us.

He goes to his seat. And it’s me alone at a microphone.

“I didn’t write this out beforehand,” I say. “Like many of us, I loved Bill so much, I love Bill so much that there are no words. Let me share just one story.”

I scan the crowd and see my family in their section. My dad with his calm and supportive look. My mom with tears in her eyes, which I appreciate so much that it almost makes me cry on the spot. Tyler is there, and even his standard maddening smile seems on my side for once. He is holding Max’s hand, and I remember how much Max loved Bill and wonder if my case of the cooties could have anything to do with him being gone. Bill always played with him, brought him treats, and most importantly talked to him like an equal. Max looks devastated and lost holding Tyler’s big hand. And then my baby brother stares straight into my eyes and I’m filled with love.

“There was something that I wanted more than anything I’d wanted in my life before. Or even since. And there was a very good reason why I couldn’t have the thing I wanted. And I was inconsolable. I cried. I thought I was the unluckiest, unhappiest person on this planet and that things could never ever be right again. I tried to hide it from my family, from my girlfriends, from Gordy. But I couldn’t hide it from Bill.

“So Bill hugged me. Actually, held me. And we were totally silent
for what seemed like a day and a half. And when he thought I could hear him, he told me that it was important to just let myself feel bad as long as I wanted. And it was also important to remember at the same time how lucky I was for everything in my life that brought me happiness. And to know that I would feel that happiness again someday.

“So I tried. And the thing that I kept clinging to was how blessed I was to have Bill in my life. Then he died. And I thought of that day that he held me, and I realized that I still have Bill to cling to and always will.”

Feeling empty, because I should have done better, I put my head down and start back toward the bleachers in absolute silence. Suddenly, there is this really strong applause, and for some reason I look up directly at James. He has that ugly dog in his lap, and he smiles at me.

Somehow that comforts me. All the time my mom is hugging me and Tyler is telling me I “crushed it,” and Max is staring at me with admiring eyes, and my dad is waiting his turn for our special hug…

I can’t stop thinking of James.

When Gordy and I arrive at the Seahorse, James and Amanda are already there. The Pony, as we all fondly call this place, is basically in the parking lot of a marina. It has the best burgers in town, and when I was little, I loved their grasshopper pie and the Miss Pac-Man machine. Tonight Amanda and James are sitting in a booth by the fish tank, clearly into each other.

Amanda says something that makes him laugh, and I roll my eyes. What a guy won’t do to get laid. In all the years I’ve known her, she has never said anything that could make a human laugh.
Not that being funny is as important as being a good person, or really smart, or really beautiful (okay, maybe that one). But funny is important to me, so I project. And basically, all the hopes I had for some kind of personal connection that was promised by that smile completely disappear. Maybe he’s just a typical guy.

We sit down. Amanda jumps up and gives me a kiss, which at first I judge as being phony and solely for James’s benefit and then realize it’s because we haven’t spoken since Bill’s memorial. She is a nice person, Amanda Porcello. Without looking, I can hear Gordy exchanging amiable guy grunts with him. I pull myself together and look up, only to find James staring straight in my eyes.

“I loved what you said today. Both of you.”

He says both of us, but he is looking just at me.

“It speaks really well of Bill that he could have friends who loved him so much. Sorry, in your words, love him so much.”

“Thanks,” is all I can come up with. Clearly, I’m on top of my game.

Immediately, Gordy launches into the Celtics and the playoffs, a sacred ritual that Gordy believes all males observe. He is about to get his head handed to him by a guy who is far too interesting to waste hours of his life on such things. In fact, James would probably rather discuss the Celtic beheading game in
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
than give two shits about basketball playoffs.

Amazingly, James knows more than Gordy, like all the really boring stuff about where players went to school and how many rebounds and how many “dimes” (which turns out to mean assists) each player has racked up. He is an enigma, this one.

Like he says, “KG has to make himself big down low so Rondo
can get him the ball on the block.” And Gordy nods like that’s English.

In the middle of
SportsCenter
, Amanda winds her arm through James’s and puts her head on his shoulder. Normally, I would find such a display of public affection either sweet or nauseating depending on the couple. But here, it’s clear this is a simple act of possession. It reminds me instantly of the way Carmen kissed Andrew at lunch.

Why is Amanda even bothering? Of course, it probably just feels good. Or maybe my attraction to him is showing, and I am making a fool of myself by drooling over her boyfriend, and Amanda is just instinctively doing what girls do when that happens.

How could I ever have thought this would be a good idea? And when will it end? I glance toward the door. When I look back, he is looking right at me. Again.

“What are you reading these days?” he asks. It seems like he’s actually curious, not forcing conversation.

“
Decoded.
It’s Jay-Z’s autobiography.”

He nods. “I’ve read that. I wish that he spent more time actually explaining his hustler years rather than defending why he still raps about the game,” he says.

“He and Beyoncé are such a cute couple. Baby Blue is like a hip-hop princess,” Amanda contributes.

“I’m bummed,” I tell him, “that so far he’s barely said anything personal about Biggie at all, just that he still wears his platinum Jesus chain every time he records.”

“I think that’s because he can confess his love for Biggie without having to feed juicy details to curious bystanders just to sell books.”

Then he smiles a very nice smile. “Sort of like you today. You
didn’t have to tell us what that thing was that you wanted so badly. It was enough to know that you loved him and he comforted you. I thought that was really cool.”

I think my heart will burst. I don’t think any compliment has ever meant more to me. He heard what I said about Bill in the way I was hoping it would be heard. It makes me feel understood.

By this time our companions, terminally bored with the world of hip-hop, are deep in their own conversation about a locker room fight in the girls’ gym.

We spend the next two hours essentially lost in conversation with each other. We have many shared interests. He knows more about politics. I know more about history. He plays flamenco guitar. I would love to sleep with a guy who plays flamenco guitar. He loves animals. Turns out he skipped school today because he wanted Pablo to feel comfortable in his new home. We are both movie nuts. Through living in San Francisco, he could see in a theater all the indies I have to beg Derek at Mystic Video to stock for me. He loves big action stuff and special effects, which I can’t stand, and we both adore silly comedies.

The big topic turns out to be travel. Because he’s done it and I haven’t. Yet. I force him to explain every detail of his time in France, China, Scotland, even East Africa.

I don’t feel self-conscious or nervous talking to him at all. I thought I wouldn’t be able to eat when we sat down. But before I know it, I’ve plowed through my hamburger and Gordy is sweetly wiping ketchup off my cheek as I quiz James about the safari he went on with his dad. Normally something like ketchup on my face would send me into hysterical embarrassment. I’m having too much fun to care.

When we’ve all finished our grasshopper pies and paid the check, my heart sinks. I feel like Cinderella after the ball. I can have his attention for a dinner’s worth of conversation, but a girl like Amanda holds his heart. We say our goodbyes and he and Amanda walk together toward his car in the parking lot and I want to cry.

On the ride home, Gordy can tell I’m sad. Of course, he thinks it’s about Bill. He does his best to cheer me up, which essentially means making fun of me until I can laugh at myself. He tells me I look like his Labrador Tiller the time Tiller swallowed a tennis ball. I check my reflection in the visor mirror and he is sort of right.

Gordy promises we’ll celebrate my birthday and Bill tomorrow. And he promises it won’t suck. I’m so lucky to have Gordy.

In bed that night I toss and turn, inventing scenarios where I can somehow see James again like that. Eventually, I realize this is just self-torture. Because even if I could have dinner with him like that every night, each moment would hold the heartbreak of knowing I want something more.

And of course, the ultimate curse. Only Maggie can dream about him.

I
study the girl in the window. Hair piled on top of her head, huge black sunglasses, enjoying a coffee and Danish among a sheik’s ransom in diamonds and emeralds. She’s having breakfast at Tiffany’s. Once a year, on my birthday, Holly Golightly is me. At least for breakfast.

His image steps beside mine, and without turning to him I say: