Roommates (Soulmates #1) (19 page)

Chapter 37: Jenny

I remember the day he left.

I gave him the most awkward hug of my adolescent life and then
refused to go along to the train station with our parents to wave him off.

Instead, I stayed home and cried, indulging myself in how
betrayed I felt that he would abandon me like that.

Of course, part of me was angry that he'd gotten out when I was
still stuck with our obnoxiously smitten parents in a town full of people who
were so dull they’d never even been to Columbus, much less out of state.

I cried until there was nothing left.

Then I wrote him an angry letter, confessing all my feelings and
admitting that I never hated him, not even for one second. Then I tore it into
tiny little pieces and threw it in six different garbage cans the next day at
school.

I thought that would get him out of my system, thought I could purge
the feelings that way and not have to feel them anymore.

I remember the first day at school when I didn't overhear his
name a single time. It was only a week and a half later. I remember feeling
disgusted that everyone could just move on like that and forget him. It was the
first time I was glad my angry letter shredding voodoo hadn't worked.

And all that because he was defending me.

I couldn't believe it.

No wonder Aaron Schwartz never so much as looked in my direction
again. It all made sense. Ethan had threatened him. Thoroughly. Shit, it was
probably partly his fault I never got laid in high school.

I had just crossed into the park when I felt my phone buzz
against my hip. I waited until I had a little bit of personal space- and until
I knew I was headed in the right direction- before hitting the callback button.

"Oh my god," Brandi said. "Please tell me you're
a huge star already and in desperate need of a cleaning lady to destroy the
evidence from all your massive coke parties."

"Uhhh."

"Cause I've got to get out of this town."

"Why? What happened now?"

"I got recognized by a cab driver yesterday."

"So?"

"He recognized me because I left swiped him on
Tinder."

I smiled. "That could only happen to you."

"Me and Amy Schumer I like to think."

"What did you do?"

"Got dropped off on Maple, obviously, so he wouldn't know
where the fuck I lived."

"I told you to stop using Tinder when you got home from
school. Our town is way too small. Next thing you know you'll be swiping
married guys and former teachers."

"If Mr. Crawford popped up, I'd totally right swipe."

"You're disgusting."

"What's disgusting is what I'd teach him about
biology."

"Stop. I can't listen to this. I had him for
homeroom."

She laughed. "Does that mean you won't come to the
wedding?"

"What wedding? The one between Ted and Brandi Crawford? Not
a chance in hell."

She sighed. "Fine. Save me from my sad teacher student
fantasy."

"I can't. You're obviously in too deep." I moved to
the side of the path to avoid a squirrel and an oncoming biker.

"At least tell me things are heating up between you and
Ethan."

I scrunched my face. "Define heating up."

"Has he put his hands on you yet?"

I didn't want to encourage her line of questioning. "We
went to dinner last night."

"Somewhere fancy?"

"Yeah. With real bruschetta and everything."

"Wow. What was the occasion?"

"Me being in New York, I guess."

"And then?"

"And then after a lot of white wine he kissed me in the
park."

She squealed.

I held the phone away from my ear.

"How was it?" she asked.

"Too good," I said. "The best ever."

"You guys are freaks. What would your parents say?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure his dad would disown him and he
wouldn't care."

"And your mom?"

I sighed. "I don't think she'd understand. I think she'd
think I was rebelling or something."

"No offense, but you’re a pretty shitty rebel."

"I always thought so, too. Until last night."

"Did anything else happen?"

"No,” I lied. “But I think something could. If I
wanted."

"Whoa."

"I know."

"So is it too early for you to tell me I was totally right
about you guys having the hots for each other?"

"No. It seems you were right, but would you mind keeping it
to yourself until I figure out what the heck is going on?"

"Sure. But only because I know that kind of juicy gossip
would spread like wildfire around here."

"And you are literally the only person who knows besides
Ethan, and he's not going to tell anybody."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Good."

"But only if you tell me what really happened."

I ran a hand over my head. "I told you."

"You expect me to believe that he kissed you and stopped
there? After all those years of jacking off to the thought of your-"

"Brandi!"

"Sorry, but you know I'm right."

I groaned.

"I don't know the guy that well, but he never struck me as
the tender kiss goodnight type.”

"There may have been a bit of harmless fooling around once
we got home, but that's it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"You are full of shit, but I know this is a crazy big deal
for you so I'm going to give you some time to make sense of it."

"Thank you."

"But then I expect every last detail."

"Deal," I said. "And I really appreciate your
support."

"And my keeping my mouth shut."

"Right."

"So now what?" she asked.

"Now I'm headed to go meet some agent Ethan got me an
appointment with."

"Oh, that’s exciting."

"I'm not really sure what to expect," I said.
"Hopefully I'll get to meet the guy, but there's a chance I'll just drop
off my head shots and my resume and that'll be it."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

"Thanks."

"What are you going to do if you fall for him for real?"

"The agent? I don't think-"

"Not the agent, dummy. Ethan."

I pursed my lips. "I don't know. I can't figure out if that
would be the worst thing ever or the best."

"Probably depends on who you ask."

"No shit," I said. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. I guess part of me likes to believe that you
guys would've been high school sweethearts if things had worked out
differently."

"I'm sure we wouldn't have been. I was a drama geek,
remember? And he was a jock."

"I know, but that's just how other people made sense of you
back then. I think you guys could've overcome that, ya know? If your parents
hadn't gotten in the way."

"We'll never know, will we?"

"The point is, I just want you to know you have my
support," she said. "To fight for what you want."

"Uh-huh."

"And if that's more time with Ethan, I think you should go
for it."

"Okaayy. Where is this coming from?"

"I think he's the only guy that ever looked at you
right."

"What?"

"You deserve a guy that worships you, Jen."

"And you think Ethan is that guy?"

"I think he could be," she said. "If you stop making
excuses for why he can't be."

Chapter 38: Ethan

I remember what she was wearing the day I left- a pair of rubber
duck pajama pants and an old sweatshirt she used to wear inside out cause she
didn't like to feel like a walking ad for clothing brands.

She hugged me before I left, but I got the sense it was under
duress. Like she only did it cause our parents were standing there, and it seemed
like the right thing to do. She smelled like nail polish remover.

Once my luggage was in the car, there wasn't much space. But if
she’d wanted, she could’ve scrunched in next to me in the back of my dad's pre-owned
Chevy. Instead, she stayed home.

I didn't see her for two years after that, but there wasn't a
day that went by when I didn't think about her.

I even stole a picture of her from one of the shoe boxes at the
bottom of the hall closet.

It was her squinting into the sun and blowing on a white
dandelion. I used to guess at what she was wishing. Sometimes I would pretend
it was for me to come back, even though it was taken long before I left.

I don't know why I was so fixated on her, even after I moved so
far away.

Perhaps it was because she was the first beautiful thing I saw
after my mom died. So I clung to her smile, her freckles, her chiming laugh, as
if they were symbols that life could go on…

The day she died was the first and last day I ever waterskied.

The sun was as bright as I’d ever seen it that Saturday morning
when we arrived at a family friend's lake house. My mom loved the lake, along
with the ocean, rivers, rain… any kind of water really.

I used to love going to the lake, too, because I'd get to eat
hot dogs and Fritos all weekend- and lots of barbequed corn, which I always
believed was unfairly classified as a vegetable.

I used to struggle getting up on the skis. I found it nerve
wracking and difficult, but that day I finally did it.

And once I got the hang of it, I couldn't get enough. I was
crushing it. Best of all, my parents and the Toohey's were cheering me on big
time. I can still recall how proud I was to see them all clapping and waving at
me from the back of the boat.

Eventually, I needed a rest and it was my mom's turn to go out
next. She was really good. She could lift one ski up and jump in the air. It
was one of the only things I can remember her being a show off at.

As soon as she let go, Mr. Toohey hit the brakes and started to
turn the boat around so we could pick her up and see if she wanted to go again.

And that's when those idiots came tearing around the corner
straight towards her.

We all waved our arms and yelled for them to slow down.

But they weren't even paying attention. They were shitfaced and
going too fast and she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

If I'd gone for one more spin it might've been me.

My dad pulled her out of the water.

She was unconscious and bleeding from the side of her head. It
wasn't until years later that I realized she was lucky she didn't lose her head
completely.

The postmortem said she was killed instantly, and that even if
she hadn't been, her brain never could've survived the impact.

The driver lost his boating license and a few years of his life
to jail.

I lost my mom.

"You okay?" Woody asked as he handed me a crate of
Bacardi from the back of an open truck.

"Yeah," I said. "Just a little down."

"You want to talk about it?"

"I suppose if I did, you'd be the guy to talk to."

"Sure would," he said. "I've just about been
through it all."

"What do you know about loss, Woody?"

Woody sat down on the end of the truck bed and checked his
watch.

None of the other staff were due to arrive for another hour,
which was more time than we needed to unload the truck.

"What kind of loss are we talking about?" he asked,
sliding the last crate my way. "Cause I know what it's like to lose your
home, your parents, your self-belief, even your marbles."

I forced a smile and put the last crate on the trolley. I had no
right to sulk around Woody.

The guy had been homeless before Ben gave him a job here, and
he'd taken the opportunity with both hands and turned his life around in the
space of a year.

"I lost my mom when I was a kid," I said. "It was
a boating accident. She died instantly, and I saw it happen."

He nodded. "I'm sorry, Ethan. That's fucked up."

"Yeah, even after all this time."

"My mom was a junkie. She died in an empty bathtub after
shooting up between her toes."

"Shit."

"I like to think she felt good on the way out."

I tilted my head. "Didn't you feel kind of abandoned?"

"Yes and no."

I raised my eyebrows.

He pulled his chin where his thick beard used to be. "Yes, because
I was on my own after that, hopping between foster homes like a frog hops
between lily pads."

"Yeah."

"But no because she didn't owe me anything, ya know? She
never asked for me. I was just one more thing that happened to her in her life,
if that makes sense."

"Sort of." I leaned an elbow on the inside of the
truck.

"There are two kinds of people in this world, Ethan."

"Go on."

"People who stuff happens to, and people who make stuff
happen."

I nodded.

"And I've been both," he said, sliding down from the
truck bed. "And I can tell you, the latter's where it's at."

I stepped back so we could close and latch the doors.

"Stuff used to happen to me,” he said. “And I used to let
it be an excuse for why I couldn't get this or that or go after this or learn
that or-"

"Got it."

"But stuff happens to everybody." He grabbed the front
handle on the trolley.

I pressed two hands against the crates at the back to keep them steady
while he pulled.

"So your stuff isn't an excuse," he said. "Unless
you want it to be. But then you end up being one of those people life happens
to."

"A victim."

"Yeah." He switched the hand he was pulling with.

"So what changed for you?" I asked. "After all
those years on the streets?"

He shrugged. "I just started dwelling on my moments of good
fortune instead of my moments of bad."

"Something tells me you're simplifying things."

"Sure I am," he said. "But it's easy to
overcomplicate stuff, and you don’t get any extra points in the end for making
life harder than it needs to be."

"I suppose that's true."

He smacked a flat button beside the double doors so we could
wheel the stock into the club’s storeroom. "So whatever it is that's got
you down," he said. "My advice is to shake it off."

I took a deep breath.

"Cause when you focus on what's got you down, you can't see
all the reasons you have to get up."

"And what if you can't have what you want?"

He walked backwards for a moment and squinted at me. "Why wouldn't
you be able to have what you want?"

I shrugged. "Cause life isn't fair."

He scoffed. "Life's plenty fair," he said. "Or at
least, it's the same kind of fair for everyone."

"Perhaps."

"So unless you want something that's going to bring harm to
someone else, you ought to go after it."

"I suppose."

"You suppose right, Ethan," he said, fixing his eyes
on me. "After all, the worst thing that can happen is you fail.”

“Right.”

“And failing can be tough, but there’s no failure like not
trying.”