Our Last Time: A Novel (12 page)

“Do you remember the day we became friends, Willow?” Caitlyn asked.

“Our friendaversary is today? Are you sure?” I asked, exasperated.

I wasn’t excited about it, because I was in a downer mood. I loved Caitlyn, and we’d always do something special for our friendaversary, but I hadn’t wanted to today. I wasn’t feeling it today.

“Yeah, but why’d you ask like that? I can’t believe you forgot, Willow. You’re usually the one reminding
me
,” Caitlyn went on.

I was pulling into my designated parking space in front of the apartments, now.

“Caitlyn, I’m home. We can talk inside,” I said, trying to be at least a little bit more cheery. My gaze shifted, and I caught her on the porch, paused in position. “And put out that damn cigarette, would you?”

“Yeah, sure, fine,” she muttered the words, as I watched her out her cigarette.

I ended the call, cussing under my breath. I slid the phone in my pocket, and then hoisted my workbag over my shoulder before heading towards the front door.

“What’s the surprise?” I asked aloud, after shutting the door behind me. I started walking up the stairs, and Caitlyn was standing near the double slide doors. She was wearing a pair of leggings, and a roomy tank-top. She looked like a lazy person.

I stood there, facing her in the silence for a moment.

“You smell like pollution,” I commented.

“You smell like pure joy,” she countered, her tone sarcastic. “Who made you cry?” she asked knowingly, crossing her arms.

Caitlyn was way too good at reading me, and she was way too nosy for my comfort. But she was my best friend.

“I heard a sad story,” I shrugged.

“
Who’s
sad story?” She was digging, as usual, and that was unfortunate.

“Does it matter?” I tried.

She shook her head yes, and I hung my head at that. “Shit,” I cursed under my breath. “It was just a really sad story, Caitlyn. I can’t help that I have feelings for my patients,” I went on.

“What kind of feelings, and which patient in particular?” she continued with the questions.

“I don’t like questions,” I mumbled. “You know this.”

She uncrossed her arms so she could adjust her loose tank top, and she sighed. “But you love me, and it’s our friendaversary. I want to know what’s on your mind,” she said calmly.

I stared at her blankly for a second, but then realized I’d be standing here all day and night if I hadn’t answered her.

“It was Wyatt, okay? He has a sad story, and his pain made me cry. There are your answers, and I hope there aren’t any more questions,” I said to her, as I bit my lip to try and hold back whatever emotion might come spilling out.

She shook her head slowly, rubbing her temples. Suddenly, she pinched the bridge of her nose, and said, “Willow, you’re fucked.”

I paused, trying to process what she just said. “How?”

“You’re just fucked.”

I started pacing. I hadn’t known what she meant by that, exactly.

How could I be fucked?

“It’s not like I love him,” I pointed out.

“But you like him a fuck ton, and he has a sad story. You’re simply fucked,” Caitlyn responded.

I plopped on the far end of the couch as she sat on the coffee table in front of me. I looked from my hands to her face, and I crinkled my nose. “He started smiling at me, and we kissed one time. Yesterday, we kissed. I liked the kiss and I like his smile, but that doesn’t mean I like
him
, right?” I needed reassurance. I hadn’t needed to be told that I was fucked.

“You kissed him?” she asked, shocked.

“We made out heavily,” I answered quietly.

Her eyes widened. “He didn’t…” she paused, making a finger-pop gesture. “Did he?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “He was seriously erect.”

She swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact with me.

“Willow, this is worse than I thought. I thought he was just an untouched crush, but…” she trailed off, shaking her head. She looked me in the eyes. “Did he just dismiss it like it wasn’t a big deal?” she asked curiously.

I smirked. “At first he did. Then we had to stop, and he got up to take a shower,” I said. “It was a hot shower, though.”

She hung her mouth open for second, and then closed it shut with her hand. “Um, a hot shower?” she asked slowly. “Are you sure?”

“I saw the steam through the crack of the door, and then I left,” I answered. “You’re full of questions at the moment,” I sighed.

“Yes, I am, and I have a reason to be,” she said defensively. She rested her elbows on her knees as she stared at me. “I can’t believe this. He’s a hot guy, correct?”

I nodded. “Yeah, a super-hot guy. He’s very clean, too,” I said, like I was looking for approval or something.

“I like him already,” she smirked. “Is there anything else you’re keeping from me?”

“Kind of,” I shrugged. “Wyatt is Annette’s real teacher.”

“What?” she asked, burrowing her eyebrows. “He was the one that assigned her all of that homework?”

“Yes, but he was also the one that shortened it to just two days a week,” I pointed out, sighing. “He’s a good guy, Caitlyn. He just has a bad heart, and I can’t miss him when he’s gone.”

She squinted her eyes, and studied me. “You’re going to miss him either way, Willow. Good people rub off on you, and they always will. Don’t make the mistake of giving into fear. Don’t be afraid to be a part of someone’s life, because you don’t know how long their sentence is,” she spoke lightly, soothingly.

She held her chin in her hands as she looked me in my eyes more deeply than before. “Dammit, this has been going on for too long. Don’t let fear get in the way of your life, Willow. The way you want to live, and who you want to live it with is your only true guidance. Books can’t be your footsteps anymore. I won’t allow it,” she said sternly. She hadn’t blinked once, and I was compelled not to close my
own
eyes.

I took a deep breath. “I’m trying to do the right thing. I don’t want to hurt his heart, or give him the wrong idea,” I shrugged. “I want his last time to be a good time.”

She smiled, leaned up where she was sitting, and then grabbed my hands. “You’re over-analyzing, Willow. It’s not a bad thing to start liking someone new; it’s a bad thing not to. It’s a bad thing to ignore it.”

“I don’t want to like him, though,” I groaned in protest.

“We don’t always know what we want. I believe you, my friend, are in denial,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“I’m not in denial,” I had shaken my head no.

“You totally are,” she challenged.

“Am not,” I argued childishly.

Caitlyn sighed dramatically, leaning her head back a little in defeat. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” she said, as she stood to her feet.

“Thank god,” I muttered. “What’s the surprise, anyway?”

She grabbed my hands to help me stand on my feet. “Oh, I didn’t have a real surprise. I just rented a movie,” she shrugged.

I immediately plopped back down on the couch. “Good. Make some noodles, get the two bottles of wine, and start the movie.”

She had given me a strange look, appalled by my bossiness.

“Please?” I looked up at her, pouting a little.

She sighed, but she did as told.

We enjoyed the rest of what was left of our ninth friendaversary. We allowed ourselves to get drunk
while we could. I hadn’t taken my scrubs off that night, and Caitlyn had fallen asleep face-down in my lap. I braided her hair, not caring about the choppy red strands that stuck out. I fell asleep there, just like that - right before the movie ended.

June 2
nd
, 1997, 8:08a.m.

Willow

“Today is our last day of high school, Will. You know what that means?”

Kennedy and I were sitting in the gym, waiting for the bell to ring so we could head to our first class. Today was our last day of high school, but I hadn’t exactly known what Kennedy was hinting at.

“I don’t know what it means, actually,” I responded.

“We have to fight the people we dislike the most. This is our last chance. Who do you dislike the most?” he questioned.

I stared at him, quizzically. “I’m not getting into a fight on our last day of high school, Kennedy. I want my diploma.”

“You’ll get your diploma, Will.”

“I don’t dislike anyone besides Calvin,” I shrugged, “And I’d have to be pretty stupid to start a fight with
him
.”

Calvin stood me up that day, and we never talked again since. I hadn’t cared all that much, because I had Kennedy. And that very day, I realized I
couldn’t
love anyone else. Kennedy and I were screwed, but there was nothing we could do about it. We just lived on. We continued being
just
Willow and Kennedy.

Kennedy’s eyes moved to where Calvin was sitting. He was sitting next to Valerie.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

“I’ve never stopped wanting to punch that guy, so I call dibs. You can take Valerie, Will. You look tall standing next to her,” Kennedy said, nudging me with his arm.

I was expressionless. “Two weak females trying to punch each other would be a disaster. No, thanks,” I turned to face him, smiling weakly.

“You’d kick her ass, Willow,” Kennedy smirked. “She’s a gerbil. You’re a lion.”

I studied him silently for a moment. “What’s this about?” I asked quietly.

He sighed. “Neither of us has gotten into a fight with anyone before. It’s only okay to fight someone in high school. After graduation, it’d be too ridiculous to consider,” he shrugged.

“It’s ridiculous now,” I commented, grumbling. I was still in my “morning grouch” mood.

“Wouldn’t you like to punch her face, though?” he asked slowly, tipping his chin towards Valerie. She was checking her nails, and touching her hair too often. I could smell her estrogen from here. She was
too
female.

Honestly, I
would
like to punch her face. It was too pretty.

“I kind of want to pull her hair,” I admitted. “Maybe gut-punch her one good time, too,” I added, imagining the act in my head.

I was actually considering a fight.

“I don’t think you should fight Calvin, though, Kennedy. I don’t want you to get hurt,” I said, looking him in the eyes so he’d know I was serious.

He shrugged, “I’ll talk to him about you. I’ll tell him my feelings on what he had done. I’ll tell him he deserves a punch in the face, and I’ll give him just that. It’s his choice to punch me back, or not.”

“If he hurts you…” I trailed off.

Kennedy shook his head vigorously. “Bruises, blood, or anything of the sort does not faze me, Willow. If it comes to that, I can handle it,” he assured me.

I sighed longingly. He was right. He was strong, and he could handle this. He could take on the world with his hands tied behind his back. Kennedy could beat cancer. Kennedy could do
anything
.

“We got this,” I said calmly.

“We do,” he confirmed. “When the bell rings?” he asked.

I nodded. “When the bell rings,” I echoed.

We looked straight ahead, taking in the sight of our student body for the last time here, in our high school’s gym. His hand found mine, and he squeezed it.

              It had taken four minutes, and then the bell rang. We stood up, still holding hands. We exchanged glances before walking towards our destination.

“I think I’ll just punch him once, and then I’ll walk away,” Kennedy whispered.

We were about five yards away from them, now. They were standing in the corner near the exit. It looked like Calvin and Valerie were conversing.

I nodded. “I think I’ll just punch her once, too, and then I’ll walk away.”

We were at an agreement. We were going to pull through with this fight. We were going to fight the popular kids that we disliked the most.

But then Valerie started crying, and I hadn’t wanted to fight her anymore. I looked at Kennedy. We paused.

“I don’t want to punch her, now,” I told him.

He nodded, and then took a deep breath. “I still want to punch Calvin,” he said.

“I want to punch him, too,” I said, and then we both looked at him in unison as Valerie walked away. She was rubbing at her eyes, her black hair falling around her face in defeat.

Calvin stood there, unaffected. Then he looked at me - and he winked.

Calvin fucking
winked
at me.

“We can take turns,” I looked up at Kennedy.

He looked unsure. “You can slap him one good time. Then I’ll take the reins, and punch him one good time,” he sort of agreed.

We sped up as we dropped our hands. Kennedy stood behind me as we neared Calvin. My fists were bunched at my sides as I stared this asshole in the face, my teeth gritting.

“Hi, there,” he greeted, smiling that smile that was so disgustingly
different
from Kennedy’s. He looked up to acknowledge Kennedy, as he stood protectively behind me.

I cleared my throat like I was about to speak, but instead, I quickly drew my hand all the way back, and slapped him
hard
in the face.

Super
hard, I had hit the asshole in the face. I felt like I was at the peak of a mountain top as his head forcefully turned to the side, his cheek red.

“I was going to call, but-” he started, but he had gotten cut short.

I moved to the side, and Kennedy had caught him mid-sentence, and had punched him in the face. The same side I had hit him. He punched him harder than I anticipated, and I could already tell that Calvin would have a bruise there. People would know.

People were looking, now.

Calvin stumbled backward, caught by surprise. He made eye contact with Kennedy, his demeanor changing. “What the fuck?” he shot a glare towards Kennedy.

Kennedy looked angry. He looked
so
angry.

“You wanna go, stretch?” Calvin made a cocky hand gesture, antagonizing Kennedy.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Kennedy sneered, practically spitting the words at him. “Come on, show me what you can do. Or are you a shit talking kind of guy?” Kennedy took a step forward; he was in Calvin’s face, really.

People were forming around us, making encouraging sounds. Some were chanting, “Fight!”

I stood there, motionless. I was afraid.

Calvin pushed Kennedy against his chest with both hands, but he wouldn’t budge from where he was standing. “Go away, man. I’m not going to fight someone who has fucking cancer. I can’t,” Calvin turned his head, refusing to look Kennedy in the eyes.

Kennedy hadn’t moved. “Tell her you’re sorry,” Kennedy raised his voice.

I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

“Fuck off!” Calvin pushed him again, annoyed.

Kennedy flared his nostrils, and stood his ground. “Who is she to you, huh? What were your intentions? Tell me now.”

Calvin shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on anything but Kennedy. “I was going to take her virginity, but I backed out, man. It was a stupid bet, but I backed out. Why the hell are you mad at me? She’s your girl. You should be
happy
I didn’t show to pick her up.”

Kennedy grabbed him by the shoulders, and literally pinned him to the wall. He
pinned
him. Calvin tried to get out of his firm grasp, but surprisingly, he hadn’t. He gave up. Kennedy just stood there, pinning him. Calvin let out a sigh through the dead silence, and
finally
made eye contact with Kennedy - and I knew that was what Kennedy was waiting for.

“That’s the thing, though,” Kennedy said, his voice hushed. “You think you had me fooled? No, you didn’t, fucker. You made her believe you could be someone worth her time, is what makes me mad. She’s
everything
to me. Luckily, she is a smart girl. Regardless, just to make it clear…you stay the hell away from her.”

Like in the movies, Kennedy pushed him harder against the wall before walking off, away from Calvin. I was standing about two feet away from them. Kennedy grabbed my arm, and we turned towards the exit. People were making
“Ohhh”
sounds, like they were impressed by what had taken place.

“We’re going to get stopped by an administrator eventually,” I whispered to him.

Kennedy made a nodding gesture, so I’d look ahead. “Yeah, that’ll be right about now,” he responded.

Our principal, Doctor Wilber, was standing near us. Her arms were crossed. She was shaking her head at us, disappointed.

We met her there where she was standing, and we all sighed in unison. “You two had to wait until the last day to get into mischief?” she exasperated.

“Sorry,” Kennedy and I both muttered.

“Well, you know what this means,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

We nodded, slowly.

“What can we say? We’re a couple of knuckleheads,” Kennedy tried to make a joke, but it hadn’t gotten through to her.

Failed attempt there, but nice going, Kennedy,
I thought.

“Follow behind,” she instructed. “Detention on me,” she piped.

Kennedy and I exchanged looks of horror as we moved to follow behind Wilber’s footsteps.

Detention in the principal’s office:
what a joyful time that’ll be.

“What happened to Shirley?” I asked in a small voice, from behind her. She hadn’t even bothered turning to look at me.

“It’s the last day of school. Mrs. Shirley is at home, I believe,” she said flatly.

I shot Kennedy a death glare. He shrugged his shoulders lightly, though there was a smirk there, sitting on his lips. He thought this was funny, but it was not. I was not looking forward to this.

“How long do we have?” Kennedy asked.

We were almost there, to her devastatingly
saddening
office. The walls were pasty white, and she had no pictures to light up the place. It was like I was being sucked into a black hole of misery.

She opened the door for us, and as we walked passed her and into the office, she said, “You have until lunch, then you two are free to go.”

We had to stay in Doctor Wilber’s office for four hours, nearly. Just until first lunch. Kennedy was able to switch lunches a few days ago, but they only allowed him to because it was our senior year, and we wouldn’t be coming back - so they figured, why not?

“Have a good day, you two,” Doctor Wilber muttered, as Kennedy and I scurried to leave her office at exactly twelve o’clock in the evening.

“You, too,” Kennedy said aloud, as he held the door open for me. I was quick to leave. He was quick to catch up with me.

As we walked down the hall, I looked up to make eye contact with him, and he smiled.

“We do everything together,” he said.

I sighed, my smile crooked. “It couldn’t be any other way.”

He grabbed my hand, and he squeezed it.

Somehow, I knew he hadn’t grabbed my hand this time to try and comfort me - but he grabbed it just because he wanted to hold my hand. That reminded me of
something
.

Something was sitting on my mind, so before we reached the students that were rushing to claim their lunch, I made it appoint to say that
something
just so I’d get it off my chest.

“Kennedy, why didn’t you correct Calvin when he said you had cancer?”

Kennedy had beaten cancer a long time ago. It had been gone for a while. It had been gone for almost eleven years, now. The worry settling in the pit of my stomach grew as the silence grew. He hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

Kennedy had dropped my hand from his.

“Willow, I… I tried to tell you at our home the other day. We can’t talk about it now. Everything is okay, I promise,” he said, his words pooled together. Kennedy sounded panicked, and that made me want to panic. The possibility of Kennedy having cancer again had to be the worst thing that could happen in this world.

“Kennedy, you
have to
be okay,” I whispered, desperately.

He sniffed. “Will, please
wait
, and we can talk about it later,” he said, begging me.

I was scared. I hadn’t known what to do.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl up in a ball somewhere, and
cry
.