These Are the Moments (12 page)

Chapter 28

Then

Life hit them fast.

Almost two years of knowing him. Almost a year of dating and not dating. And now? Only a few months until his high school graduation.

For Simon’s senior year, he was busier than ever with senior projects, ACTs and college prep. She missed him already. She knew the obligations would only get worse, increasing with him out of Covington and into college, where they would hold their relationship like an egg balancing on a spoon.

And it was already March.

He knocked on the door, even though she was already barreling toward it.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, flinging her arms around him, kissing him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he said, his hands reaching up her back.

“Come here,” she said, leading him over to the porch swing. “Tell me about your trip.”

He seemed older already, and she noticed a scruff of blonde hair on his chin. Even his eyes seemed wiser, deeper somehow. “Not sure where to start. Ten campus tours is pretty exhausting, I’ll tell you that.”

“Top three?” she asked him.

“Oh geez,” he said, yawning. “Cutting straight to the chase. Okay, top of my head? Samford, Vanderbilt and University of Tennessee.”

Wendy bit her lip.
All so far away,
she thought.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, the campuses are great, the academics are excellent. I want to go somewhere that I know will challenge me. I don’t know if I’ll get that here in Louisiana.”

Her chest deflated, like the air had been smashed right out of it. This was new. This was . . . hard.

“But I thought—”

“It’s just a thought, okay? I’m not making any decisions. I just want to be open to everything. I can’t limit myself.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that. No, he shouldn’t limit himself. But in what ways? Her head ached against the wooden arm rest. Was she limiting him, too?

“Do you mean . . . are you saying . . . you’re moving away?”

“I was always moving away,” he said cuttingly, wringing his hands. “Can’t you just let me be happy for a little bit, Wendy? Geez.”

She held her tongue between her teeth and became very aware of her eyelashes. “I’m glad you’re happy. I’m glad you had a good trip.”

“Then what are you trying to say?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just processing.”

“Don’t you want what’s best for me?”

His eyes plowed over her heart.

Of course
, she wanted to say.

Always
, she had to say.

“Am I limiting you?” she actually said.

He huffed under his breath. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve said anything.”

He did?

“Why?” she asked.

“Because. You don’t get it. You want to live in this Covington bubble forever. You want to go to college, graduate, and move right back home again. You want to plant your flag in this stupid town until you’re too dead to hold it up anymore. That’s not living, Wendy. That’s not what I want.”

Simon wants to move away.

How had she not realized this before? How had he not said anything before?

“You should go,” she said.

“Really?” he said, in her face. “I just get back and you want me to go? I’m staying. We need to talk about this.”

Yes.

And no.

Ultimately, she thought, he was the one who wanted to leave. She couldn’t believe it. Simon wasn’t just moving; he was
leaving
, and she didn’t know how to handle both.

“You’re just going to sit there?” he prodded. “You have nothing to say?”

There were so many things she should have said, but she didn’t know how to say them.

“Just go,” she said.

He stormed down the brick stairway, slammed the door and tore out of her driveway.

Welcome home, Simon
.

The next day, he called first.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“That’s all you want to say?” he asked.

This was another by-product of the fighting. The more they shouted, the quieter she got. The more they fought, the less of a voice she had. It was as if all the fighting were beating the will right out of her. She found it simpler to sit there, knee-deep in her own mind, than actually say any of the words out loud. Some days, there weren’t even any words at all.

“I’m just . . . processing.”

“Processing? Come on, Wendy, talk to me.”

Silence.

Thinking.

Not thinking.

“Wendy, please. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

For the first time, Wendy realized that they might not actually make it. Until yesterday, she could tell herself that even if
right now
didn’t work, the
maybe later
would. Now? She knew. Fundamentally, they wanted different things. He wanted out and she wanted in.

“I love you,” she told him.

She could hear him sigh. “I love you, too.” And then, “We’re okay?”

For now. For maybe.

“We’re okay,” she assured him.

Chapter 29

Now

Claudia was not okay. She passed out on the floor of their bathroom, her heels still on, mouth lined in a mixture of dried lipstick and vomit. Wendy rubbed her back, but she probably didn’t even notice. Claudia looked small, not just in size, but in her face, like she was still seven and fragile, and Wendy didn’t know what to do.

Coming out of her drunken state, Wendy saw everything a lot more clearly. The broken bar. The kids emptying their stomachs in the bushes. They were just kids, no matter how much they didn’t want to be. And she, well, she had no business being there.

On the floor of the bathroom, the whole room felt small, too.

The empty shampoo bottle sitting on the bathtub.

The picture of the girls resting on the sink.

And on the wall, there was Jesus.

He wore a crown of thorns and two droplets of blood at his temples. If this were a different time, Wendy would have asked him what to do, but she couldn’t ask him for any more signs. That pool had run dry.

Next to Wendy, Claudia’s phone vibrated. A text from someone named “Slut Bag” read: “Whert ade yo?”

Claudia moaned. They’d been here a while. But every time Wendy tried to move her, Claudia acted like she was going to be sick again, throwing her head into the bowl and gagging.

Wendy could go to sleep if she wanted to, but she couldn’t leave Claudia there alone. So she tried to rest her head on the cold bathtub, her whole body stiffening.

The phone vibrated again. But this time, it was Wendy’s.

“Hi.”

Right.
Simon. She forgot she’d texted him.

“How are you?” she texted back.

“All right,” he answered, nearly immediate. “You?”

“Not so good,” she said. “Currently watching Claudia puke her guts out.”

“She okay?” he asked her.

Claudia curled her body onto the bath mat, sobbing softly to herself. Her bare feet braced against the tub.

“I think so,” Wendy said. “I don’t know.”

“She’ll be fine,” Simon said.

“Physically, sure,” Wendy said. “Emotionally? I’m not so confident.”

Old Simon would’ve ask a lot of questions. He would try to dig down to the root of the issue. He would observe all angles of what was going on and try to form an informed conclusion.

But instead, he said, “Yeah. That’s rough.”

She set her phone on the floor. There wasn’t anything else to say.

She leaned over to Claudia. “Hey, you want to try and go to sleep?”

Claudia nodded, groaning a little. Wendy struggled to lift her sister up off of the floor and carry her small frame into the bedroom. When she set Claudia in the bed, she tucked the covers around her and stuck a trash can beside the bed. She even brushed the hair out of Claudia’s face, because that was what Mom would do.

“I’m in the next room if you need me,” Wendy said.

“No,” Claudia said, stretching her arm over her head.

“No?”

“Stay with me.”

Wendy nodded. Normally, Claudia hated sleeping with other people. “Okay,” Wendy said. “I’ll be right here.”

Wendy turned off the lights and slipped in beside her sister. Claudia’s small feet bridged themselves up against the front of Wendy’s legs. She sighed and let herself fall asleep.

Wendy did not. She lay there, thinking. Reeling.

You can’t go back.

You can’t go back.

You can’t go back.

Maybe, if she said it enough, she’d actually start believing it.

Chapter 30

Then

She couldn’t believe it. There were peacocks at prom. The kind with feathers and ego complexes.

When the limo pulled over the gravel, she could see them in the trees and hear them squawking from the branches. Simon opened her door for her, and there was one of those dumb birds, staring at its reflection in a hubcap.

He’d told her that she looked beautiful, and she was fairly sure that she was. Mom had helped with her hair, curling and pinning it back to the crown of her head. The dress was an emerald shade of green. Green matched her eyes and made her look grown up; and wearing it, she felt like something special.

They were good tonight.

They were not good today.

There had been more arguments, of course, about the girls from the college tour.

Wendy: “What is this, Simon? Why are all of these girls writing on your Facebook wall?”

Simon: “They’re just friends.”

Wendy: “Really? ‘So great to meet you. Really. So great.’ ‘Call me soon.’ That sounds more than friendly to me.”

Simon: “Why are you making a big deal out of this? I told you. They’re friends.”

Simon called and she ignored him. She emailed and he texted.

“If you’re going to be like this, then don’t even come,” he’d told her.

Simon knew the right way to hurt her, picking the exact combination of words to gut her.

“Fine,” she said, holding her dress in her hands. “I won’t.”

With her hair done and her shoes on, she gripped onto the folds of the dress wondering if her date, if her
boyfriend
, was even going to take her to prom that night.

But at 6 p.m., he showed up as promised.

He apologized and she apologized, and seeing each other dressed up made them civil, if only for the moment.

They were okay now.

They would be okay now.

Reese had combed her long, tangly hair for once, letting it fall into a neat ponytail at her side. It was brown now, with a single streak of bronze. Her date was a senior named Paul from youth group. Paul danced with his whole body, looking more like he was fighting off a bear attack than trying to keep a rhythm.

Reese handed Wendy a plastic knife from the buffet table. “If you put a lot of force behind this,” she said, “You might be able to draw blood. Here, go.”

“How can I stab you when you look
oh so pretty?
” Wendy asked.

“I know, I’m flawless, but—” Reese ducked fast, then straightened herself up, “Sorry. Thought he saw me.”

“
Oh, Wendy, you look so pretty too. Really, you’re such a vision,
” Wendy said, mocking Reese’s deep voice.

Reese was not amused. “Yes, Wendy. You’re gorgeous. Happy?”

“Thank you,” Wendy said, smiling.

“Shoot, he sees me.” Then Reese bolted.

When Simon and Wendy danced, their bodies aligned, and she let her forehead rest against his for a moment. He kissed her, out there in the open, like it didn’t matter who saw. When they held each other close, the world could crash like waves at their backs, and none of it would matter. They were together. That was enough.

Owen waved at them from across the room, with his date, Blondie/Sarah, at his side. Wendy waved back, and Blondie/Sarah pretended to watch the band, in her strapless, floral dress.

“Let’s go outside,” Simon said.

“Okay,” Wendy said.

Outside, they found a gazebo. It was white and lovely, straight from a postcard that would have read, “WELCOME TO COVINGTON. Our proms have peacocks, AND YOURS CAN TOO!”

They slipped onto the cold bench, and watched the stupid bird, still checking itself out in the hubcap, peck at the tire.
What’s that thing people say
, Wendy thought,
the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results?

Stupid bird.

“I’m sorry, again,” Simon said.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Wendy said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m having a good time.”

“You are?”

“Aren’t you?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course. Yes. I’m having a great time.”

“Okay, good.”

They let the silence set around them. At their backs, the music wafted from the rafters of the barn.

“Are you scared?” he asked into the air.

She didn’t look at him, but she knew what he was talking about.

There were only a few weeks left until his graduation. She would watch him accept his diploma, throw up his cap, and effectively conclude his life in this town. If this year was any indication, summer would speed past them. Sooner rather than later, she’d have to watch him pack his bags, have to let him kiss her goodbye, have to start this new chapter of weekends driving back and forth.

“I wish it would all just slow down for a second,” Wendy breathed.

“Maybe I just won’t go,” he said. “Forget exams. Forget college. I’ll just wait for you. What’s a couple of years, anyway?”

Wendy laughed. “Perfect. A sixth year senior. They’ll write articles about you. ‘
Meet The Pride and Joy of Covington’s Education System
.’”

“Exactly. And I’ll just stay here. With you.”

They didn’t talk about his moving much anymore. When they did, it always ended in arguments. It was acknowledged, of course, like a horizon slowly catching up to them.

“I’d like that,” she said, pulling him close to her. She felt like she couldn’t get close enough anymore.

“I love you,” he said.

She felt warm against his body. She knew what this felt like, but even a night away from him could make her forget, just a little. The feeling of being in his arms was fleeting, a sensation that left along with him.

What would this separation feel like? What else would she forget?

“I love you, too,” she breathed.

“I’ve decided,” he said. “I want to do this.”

Wendy picked up her head. “You mean long distance?”

For Simon, everything started with a decision. For Wendy, everything started with a feeling. He decided to be with her. She wanted to be with him. He decided to love her. She just did.

“Yes,” he said definitively. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Logistically, this can work. LSU is only an hour away, and we can take shifts. We’ll call each other on the phone, text, email, whatever. And then, you’ll come be with me when you graduate. I want to do this. I want to be with you.”

Wendy had imagined what senior prom with Simon would be like. She had pictured dancing and dresses and fairy lights. She had imagined him slipping a corsage over her wrist, kissing her in the back seat of the car, and telling her he loved her under the moon.

But this? This was so much more.

She searched for the right words, but nothing seemed good enough. “I love you, Simon. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Then he kissed her, at prom, under the fairy lights, while the peacock finally strutted away from its reflection, realizing that the image on the other side wasn’t real, only a shadow of who he once was.