Night Swimming (18 page)

They began dating, or at least, a relationship as close to dating as it could be for someone who was only sixteen and whose entire life experience was defined by the boundaries of Gorham, New Hampshire. Dating meant acting silly, French-kissing, even going as far as third base. While this was tame for the rest of the world, it was considered quite risque to the girls of Gorham. Charlotte had shared her secrets with MaryAnn, but as the months went by, MaryAnn still didn’t have a boyfriend, and Charlotte stopped talking about T. J. as much. She felt bad that her friend hadn’t had a steady boyfriend yet, and didn’t want her to feel left out. In fact, it was around then that all three of them started spending time together in a group. This was Charlotte’s quiet way of taking care of her best friend. And she’d thought MaryAnn was happy. MaryAnn never said anything to make her feel otherwise.

But there was an ‘otherwise.’ MaryAnn secretly harbored amorous feelings for T. J. She had been attracted to him for months. But MaryAnn had never kept a secret from Charlotte in her life. How on earth was Charlotte supposed to know all this? How could she have had an inkling how upset MaryAnn would be about Charlotte going to the prom with T. J.? She assumed MaryAnn would find a date— there were dozens of boys looking for dates of their own. Poor MaryAnn had lied and claimed she opted to work at the punch table when, in fact, she had not been asked to the prom at all. If only she had told Charlotte the truth, Charlotte wouldn’t have gone to that stupid prom, either. They could have all protested together, ordered pizza, and rented movies that night instead. That would have been more fun anyway.

But instead, MaryAnn watched Trevor James slow-dance with Charlotte across the floor all night under the pink and blue streamers she’d spent all day putting up.

The three had planned to drive home together at the end of the evening, but by eleven-thirty MaryAnn was gone. Still, Charlotte didn’t have a clue. She simply suspected that MaryAnn had gotten a ride from someone else. Until the next morning.

When she answered the knock on the front door, there stood MaryAnn.

“Hey, what happened to you last night?”

“I couldn’t stay. I had to . . .” And MaryAnn began crying inconsolable tears.

“What? Tell me,” Charlotte insisted. “Did someone...?” She was afraid to say the word. Someone must have died, the way

MaryAnn was weeping.

“Do you love T. J.?” MaryAnn finally blurted out.

Charlotte was taken aback by the question. What did this have to do with anything?

“Do I love T. J.?”

“Yes.”

“I...I like him. Do I love him? ‘Love’ is a strong word. I like him.”

“I love him, Charlotte,” MaryAnn said in a low, confessional tone.

“You what?” Charlotte was shocked. “You love Trevor James? What are you talking about?”

“I love him, Charlotte. I have... for a long time.”

“MaryAnn, you never said a word to me about any feelings you had toward him. When did this happen? Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

“I couldn’t. You were going out with him. What could I say? ‘I love him, Charlotte... stop seeing him’?”

“Well, something. Jesus, MaryAnn, I had no idea. You and I are best friends. Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. T. J. used to talk to me, smile and joke with me. At first I thought he liked me, but then I realized he was doing it to get to you. He couldn’t get your attention, so he got mine, and through me he got you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Jesus. Does T. J. even know how you feel, MaryAnn?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter. He likes you now.”

Charlotte was completely flabbergasted at this moment. She went back and forth, agonizing over whether she should say something. She cared for T. J. a great deal. And yes, maybe she did love him. But how could she admit that at this moment with her best friend in tears? She’d seen so many girls forsake longstanding friendships when they met a boy. Hadn’t she and MaryAnn promised never to do that? But Charlotte had such strong feelings for him. A paper valentine, that’s how her heart felt, a paper valentine about to be torn down the middle. She stared at MaryAnn, who now sat looking at Charlotte as if Charlotte held the keys to her eternal personal happiness. How could she let her best friend down? But then, she would have to let go of a relationship she didn’t want to end. This was awful. But, hard as it was, she knew what she had to do. Finally, she looked MaryAnn in the eye and said, “I’d like to say something to him, if it’s all right with you.”

“He won’t be mad?”

“I don’t think so. We’re friends... mostly,” Charlotte lied.

“Really, Charlotte? I wondered about that. ’Cause you don’t really talk about him as much as you used to.”

Jesus,
Charlotte thought,
my whole plan blew up right in my face.
She wanted to scream, “BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT TO HURT YOUR FEELINGS! BECAUSE I HAD A BOYFRIEND AND YOU HAD NO ONE! BECAUSE, BECAUSE, BECAUSE,” but she held her tongue.

“So, what are you going to say?”

What
am
I going to say?
“I don’t exactly know yet. I need to give it a think.”

“And this doesn’t upset you...to do this?”

Yes, it breaks my heart. But you’re my best friend, MaryAnn.

“I Iike T. J. He’s a great guy, but... but I’m not in love,” she said stumbling, searching for that line in the sand that separates “like” from “love.” And then it was clear. That moment of confrontation forced her to define her feelings. Yes, she loved MaryAnn, but she loved T. J. as well. She dreaded the conversation she imagined having with T. J. She told herself that friendships last longer than boys. How would she feel if she had been the one without the boyfriend? MaryAnn had never been kissed, and it was true that Charlotte had many boys in school vying for her attention. But still, what if the tables were turned and T. J. dumped her? She would be miserable. Her thoughts were interrupted by MaryAnn, who seemed at that moment to be clairvoyant.

“Won’t he be upset? He might be in love with you.”

“I don’t know, MaryAnn; he’s never said those exact words to me.” This was true, and Charlotte had never said those exact words to him, either, but her feelings were as close to love as she’d ever had. She was nearly positive he felt it, too. Sometimes the unspoken is more clearly heard than a thousand words.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said softly, in a voice so low only a dog might hear it.

“Thanks, Charlotte, you’re a great friend.”

And they hugged once more, securing their friendship with the belief that this sisterhood would always be thicker than water.

“What?” T. J. had asked, stunned. “She loves me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, shit, Charlotte, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go out with her.”

“Go out with her? What about us?” T. J. was clearly stricken with this unwelcome news. Oh, God, this was about to backfire. Charlotte could feel her mistake about to erupt like hot lava pouring into a wound she’d just opened up.

Charlotte didn’t want to give him all the insane reasons. It was hard enough without going into it all. She struggled to find words.

“We can be friends,” she muttered. Jesus, there was that awful phrase no one ever wanted to hear, the “we can be friends” phrase. T. J. looked crushed. “Friends?” “Yes, I mean we are friends, and we’ll continue to be friends, only

differently.”

“I don’t want to be your friend. I thought this was something more than that, Charlotte.” He paused. “Isn’t it something more to you?”

She didn’t say anything. She was grasping for words, vowels, consonants. Nothing came. She was sorry she had said anything now. She wanted to take it back, but it was all too late.

“Shit, Charlotte,” T. J. said. He couldn’t even look her in the eye. He was embarrassed for feeling so much when she obviously hadn’t felt the same. If only he knew. If only. She had flashed a red cape in front of an angry bull. Then suddenly, he blurted out the only word he could muster. “Fine,” he said, but it wasn’t fine. It was as if she had put her hand down his throat and brought his heart up with it. He was hurt. His anger and sadness mixed like two dangerous chemicals that proved explosive when stirred together, and she stood away from him, afraid to apologize or take it back. And he stood away and said, “You’ll be sorry. You’ll see.” She was already.

“T. J., wait, I’m sorry, I am. Please, wait...T. J.?”

But it was over. He disappeared out of sight, leaving Charlotte feeling as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. How could she have done this? She had only wanted to do the right thing, and now everyone was miserable.

And then, to the amazement of all who knew T. J. and Charlotte, T. J. began dating MaryAnn the following day. Everything suddenly became awkward and strained for Charlotte. T. J. would never look her straight in the eye when they were all together. But MaryAnn seemed oblivious and happy. She built her days and nights around this new and flourishing relationship. She saw her future surrounded by children and PTA meetings and family holidays on Lake Winnipesaukee. Mrs. Trevor James, MaryAnn James, Mrs. MaryAnn James. She would write it out on napkins and note cards and immediately throw them away for her silliness, though once Trevor saw it and Charlotte thought she saw him cringe.

It was a year later, practically to the day, when everything went terribly wrong. T. J. had told MaryAnn he wanted to talk to her. She was excited. He’d put the evening aside especially. He never did that. He was going to propose; she was sure he was going to propose.

But it wasn’t that at all. He had other news to deliver to her that night, awful news, the worst kind of news someone could hear. The truth was, he told her, that he couldn’t pretend anymore and that he was still in love with Charlotte. That try as he might, he had never stopped being in love with her, and he was going back to ask if they could make a go of it again.

MaryAnn sat as still as a stump. She could not believe what she was hearing. This was supposed to be her proposal night. Instead, it felt as if a denial of clemency had come down from the governor. Let the execution proceed. He might as well have taken the kitchen knife and run it through poor MaryAnn’s heart.

When T. J. stood to go, she stood, too, grabbing his arms, his waist, begging and pleading with him not to go, to stay, to talk, to figure it out with her. But his mind was made up, and he said he was sorry, but he had to do this and he knew it was hard and he was sure in time that things would be okay, and he was sorry and he was so sorry and he was so very, very sorry. He left her in a slump, weeping in the kitchen.

Charlotte was home when T. J. knocked on her door. She was surprised to see him alone and asked where MaryAnn was. He wanted to sit down. He was acting oddly. He was drunk. He held a glass of whiskey and ice in his hand from wherever he had just been. She had never seen him drunk before.

“Charlotte,” he began, “I want to talk about something that happened between us, something that happened a long time ago now.” His words were slightly slurred. Charlotte could smell the Jim Beam lifting off him like a heavy mist. “Something that hurt me more then you can imagine.” He paused before continuing. Charlotte was nervous. Where was MaryAnn?

He told her how hurt he had felt when she told him that they were not going to go out anymore, that MaryAnn loved him. He was angry, and he had left the relationship angry. He had thought, by going out with MaryAnn, Charlotte would be jealous. He had purposely paraded around, generously bestowing his new affections on MaryAnn to show Charlotte how awful it felt to be rebuffed. But it had all backfired. And now he had hurt everyone, including himself, with this stupid charade. He wanted to come back. Wanted to try again. Wanted Charlotte to try again.

Charlotte could not believe what she was hearing. She’d missed him so, yet had tried her best to move on. But she couldn’t really move on in her head, and she failed completely in her heart.

“Just tell me you’ll think about it,” said T. J.

“T. J., I...I...” The truth began spilling out as if a watering can had been knocked on its side. “It was the worst mistake I could have made. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I didn’t wish I could reverse the whole thing. I thought my friendship with MaryAnn wouldn’t have survived if I continued going out with you. But I had it all wrong. If it was a true friendship, it would have.” She began to cry.

T. J. threw his arms around her, held her, and cried, too. “I love you, Charlotte. I always have.”

“God, this is awful.”

“Awful?”

“Awful and wonderful, all at the same time. I mean, there’s another person involved here. A person who loves you very much, thinks she’s going to marry you. A person who happens to be my best friend. You have to tell her, T. J. It’s the right thing to do.”

“I did, Charlotte. I told her I still had feelings for you.”

“Oh, God, but she has no idea I still have feelings for you. It makes it so much worse. Poor MaryAnn. Think of how she’ll feel— I’m about to break my best friend’s heart.”

“I think I already did that, Charlotte.”

“You broke it in two. I’m going to break it into pieces. Jesus, maybe we shouldn’t do this, T. J.”

“And what will that do? Make three people unhappy instead of one, and keep two from following their hearts? No. We did that already.”

“You’re right, it’s just . . .” MaryAnn had told Charlotte that T. J. was going to propose to her that night. She had said she could feel it in her bones that tonight was the night. This conversation was going to be so horrible.

“Please, T. J., please find her and bring her over here. I think we should all talk this out together.”

“Okay. That sounds like the right thing to do,” he said, sounding unconvinced that there was any right thing to do. They embraced once again before he left, leaving his half-drunk whiskey on her kitchen table. Charlotte started to cry again as the door swung behind him. Her grief was physical. This was all her fault—she should have been honest with MaryAnn from the start, but she’d wanted so to protect their friendship. Now it seemed she’d destroyed it.