Ann Aguirre - I Want It That Way

I managed to say, “Shit. When I said one day, I’ll wake up sad as hell because you’re not here, I didn’t realize it would be so soon.”

She let out a choky laugh, the smile finally cracking the solemnity of her face, but tears sparkled in her eyes, too. “Yeah, that caught me off guard. It’s why I cried that night. I knew this day was coming.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’d have tried to talk me out of it by suggesting another major or making some other change that didn’t involve leaving Michigan.”

“You’re probably right,” I admitted. “Is this why you shot Max down?”

Lauren shook her head. “He’s just not for me. I like him as a friend, but I want even more to go home.”

“I can understand that.” Okay, not really. Sure, I missed my parents and Rob, but as for Sharon, Nebraska? No. I didn’t want to live there again.

“Maybe you should come with me. You need to stop thinking about Mr. Hot Ginger, anyway. If he’s not smart enough to see what he has in you, then he needs a kick in the nuts.” That was 100 percent friend loyalty talking.

“Nothing he said was wrong. That’s part of why it’s so painful.”

“If you say so. I talked to Courtney, and she wants to move out of the dorms. Her roommate is constantly smoking in the room and hiding her stash in Courtney’s stuff. She’s to the point that she’s afraid of getting arrested. Unless you object, I plan to sublet my half of the room to her for spring semester. I won’t leave you guys hanging on the rent.”

“Courtney’s fine. I mean, she’s not you, but we can manage.”

“I’m so glad you don’t hate me. I thought you’d freak and remind me how we promised to be in caps and gowns at the end of college, facing the future together.”

Since I’d considered doing exactly that, she was proving how well she knew me. Fresh tears stung my eyes, and my voice was thick when I pretended how much I’d changed. “That was a really long time ago, LB. We were, what, fourteen? People change.”

They did, and I didn’t want them to. Sometimes, when things were perfect, I wanted them to remain exactly the same. But life wasn’t static. It went on.

I’m losing my best friend.

It was hard not to feel that way, even though Lauren was talking about how we’d Skype, email and see each other when I came home in the summer. Six months, when we hadn’t been apart for more than a couple of days since we were eighteen and hopelessly lost on campus, that first week. I nodded in the right places, but she was clouding over, probably because I had the worst poker face in the world. Thanks to Ty, I knew that, but I couldn’t fix it.

“Nadia, don’t cry, or you’ll get me going.”

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, but it didn’t help. With a choky sob, Lauren climbed onto my bed, cursing quietly. “See, this is exactly how I didn’t want it to go.”

We held on to each other and cried, and for me, it was a farewell to childhood, admitting that sometimes, no matter how much you wanted something, it would never, ever come true. She petted my hair and we stayed up superlate, talking about old friends, people we hadn’t seen in years and in some cases, would never see again. When the light cracked in through our windows, I heard the closing of a door. It was probably Max leaving for work, but for me, it was symbolic, and Lauren felt it, too.

She got up then and retreated to her own bed. “I don’t have anything to do, except pack, so I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay,” I said. “Do you want a going-away party?”

“Nah. That’s why I waited for your birthday, two birds, one stone.” There was a calm about her that had been missing for months; I’d been too wrapped up in my own shit to notice.

“How are you getting home?”

“Angus bought me a plane ticket. I said I’ll pay him back when I get my last check, but you know how he is. Courtney’s buying my furniture, so I just have my clothes. I was wondering if I could borrow your big suitcase.”

“Help yourself. I won’t need it.” Quietly, I processed the implications of that; Angus knew before I did.

In the abstract, that probably meant I mattered more, or that she didn’t want to ruin my birthday, but I could focus only on the fact that she’d waited until four days before she left. Basically until she had no choice at all. There was an invisible lump in my chest as I got in the shower. Since it was the weekend, I didn’t have to work, but I couldn’t be at home.

Normally, at a time like this, I’d text Ty or call him, so I could hear his voice when he said my name, and that gorgeous, syrupy warmth would spill through me, smoothing over the bad patches. That wasn’t an option anymore. So I dried my hair and dressed, like I had somewhere to be. Lauren was asleep or pretending. I didn’t feel like talking to Angus, either, so I got my keys and went downstairs.

Of course, since this was the worst I’d looked since the breakup that wasn’t really one at all, technically, I met Sam and Ty going out at the same time. They were dressed for the weather, Sam’s eyes bright above his scarf. Ty was back to looking pale and miserable, pretty much exactly how I felt. For Sam’s sake, I mumbled a greeting and rushed past to my car, pretending I was in a hurry, except there was nowhere in the world for me. Ty lifted a hand and then dropped it, probably knowing there was nothing he could say.

Yes, there’s something wrong. No, it’s none of your business. You want it that way.

The sidewalk was slick with icy patches, graying snow melting atop dead grass. I fumbled my keys then dropped them. With a sigh, I knelt and scrabbled for them in the cold, starting when someone touched my shoulder. Not Ty. It would never be Ty. Pain flowered fresh and sharp, exploding in my chest like a scream.

Max stood behind me, one hand in his pocket, and I could see his fingers clenching into a fist and then relaxing, a helpless, pained gesture that told me everything. “Angus told me about Lauren.”

I nodded as he pulled me up.

“Come on, Conrad. Let’s get some breakfast.”

Though I’d rarely been on the back of his bike, I followed him over and put on the helmet. Sam was waving at me from the backseat of Ty’s Focus, and I raised my hand, showing him everything was fine. You’re a good kid. Max swung on and glanced at me expectantly. With a spurt of defiance, I swung onto the back and wrapped my arms around his waist. I wasn’t trying to make Ty jealous because it wasn’t like that with Max and me, and it never would be.

Max zoomed out of the parking lot, leaving the complex behind. Breakfast didn’t sound very good at the moment, and as if he sensed how I felt, he headed for the highway. It was incredibly cold, but the rushing wind drove out the pain, leaving only numbness, and it was a welcome relief. For an hour, there was only Max’s back and the hiss of the road, roar of the tires and rumble of the engine.

By the time he stopped, my fingers were locked into icicles at his waist. Gently he pried me loose, and we stumbled into a truck stop. We had to be close to Ann Arbor, though I’d lost track of the direction. Shivering, I slid into a booth across from him and he ordered us both coffee to start. I studied the menu, knowing I had to eat, not wanting to. But I wouldn’t be a damsel who pined, so I got waffles.

“I never understood the bike until now.”

“It’s freedom,” he said simply. “I’ve had it since I was fifteen, and whenever shit got unbearable at home, I’d take off.”

Cupping my hands around my mug, I observed, “Running doesn’t solve anything.”

“No, but it leaves you in a better place to deal when you get back. And sometimes whatever was bothering you isn’t there anymore.”

“So you’ll be riding around until Lauren leaves?”

He gave a wry half smile. “Maybe. I think maybe she was right, though, about me not knowing her. I had no idea she was so unhappy here.”

“She’s not easy,” I said. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and I don’t know her like she does me. I feel bad saying that. And I’ll miss her. I’ll miss her sense of humor. I’ll miss her big brain and her loyalty. I’ll miss knowing she’s around if I need to talk.”

“You can talk to me,” Max said.

“I’m not sure that’ll work. Sometimes if I’m freaking out about something, I climb in her bed and poke her awake. She always talks me down, even at four in the morning.”

His look was surprisingly somber. “If you get in my bed, Conrad, I promise I won’t take it the wrong way.”

Somehow I managed a shaky smile. “The way this semester is going, I might do that.”

“There’s no shame in leaning. Seems to me, we’ve been taking turns.”

“Okay,” I said. Our breakfast came, and to my surprise, the perpetual knot in my stomach unraveled enough for me to eat. “How do you feel about Courtney moving in?”

“I’m fine with it. She’s in a shitty situation, and I’m glad we can help her out.”

I agreed. See, there’s the bright side. Lauren leaving means we can save Courtney from her crazy roommate. At this stage, I couldn’t come up with a silver lining to losing Sam and Ty, but maybe one day. Hope was a tiny bubble, light as air and rising in my chest.

“Top you two off?” the waitress asked.

At Max’s nod, she refilled our cups and I lifted mine. He clinked his against it. “To Lauren,” he toasted with a bittersweet smile.

“And to survival,” I said, because giving up was never, ever a choice I could make.

Courtney moved in the following weekend.