"That's crazy about Kendell," he says, his voice thin and distant. "How long have you known?"
"Since New Year's," I say.
"He's right about you. About how much you do for everybody. We owe you a lot."
Lilliana is calling out rules for some game they've started playing in the pool. Bud is throwing in a one-liner between every sentence she utters.
"About me and Ali," he says, wringing his hands. "I know it's hard to understand. But I can't just end it. Not without a reason."
My breath catches in my chest, and I clench my jaw over the words I want to say.
Am I not enough of a reason?
"I'm leaving in a week for Boston. I'll be gone all summer, and then I'll be at school, and we'll be doing the whole long-distance thing."
It's getting hard to take full breaths. My eyes are burning, my throat feels swollen. I want Bud to come back and take me home. I can't listen to any more of this.
"We've been together for so long, Dot. I'm just afraid."
"Of what?" I somehow manage to ask.
"I'm afraid I won't know who I am if I'm not with her. It's like, I already forget who I was before I met her."
I swallow over the hardened lump in my throat. "I didn't forget."
He turns and sees what he's doing to me. His expression melts into despair and he takes my face in his hands. "Oh God, Dot, don't cry. Please, don't cry." But he's crying. So, I can cry if I want to! "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to be a good guy and do the right thing. But I did everything wrong. Everything. And I'm sorry. I hurt you and I'm so... so sorry."
He pulls me into a hug and buries his face in my neck. I grab handfuls of his soft, dark hair and bring my mouth to his ear. "I love you," I whisper.
He sobs harder, pressing me against his chest so I can feel every labored breath he takes. "I love you, too," he cries. "I love you. I love you. I love you."
I break into pieces under his sobs. Why isn't this enough? We love each other. Why are things still broken? Why can't we just have this?
He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. His breath is salty and warm against my face. "My God, I want to kiss you so bad right now I'm going to scream," he says.
I slide my hand up and press my fingers over his mouth, removing the temptation. He laughs a little and covers my lips with his fingers. "Thank you," he says softly against my hand. I sniffle and nod. I run my thumb along his bottom lip and shudder as the desire to put my mouth on his returns with a vengeance.
He takes my hand in his and pulls away. Out of reach. My heart aches over the distance.
We sit side-by-side, hands interlaced, and listen to our rowdy friends celebrating the end of an era. While we're mourning one.
"I haven't forgotten everything about who I was," he says.
I squeeze his hand. It means keep talking.
"I remember being naked in the Hamilton's pool at thirteen with a girl I really liked. She was my best friend, and I wanted her to be more than that. But I was too shy to tell her. I let her get away. Or maybe I ran away. Whatever it was, it doesn't matter. Because when I was in that pool, with that girl, I made my thirteen-year-old self a promise. That someday I would grow up and marry my best friend. And I haven't let go of that promise."
He hasn't looked me in the eye. He knows how dangerous that would be. He takes my shaking hand and holds it over his chest. I feel his warm skin under his shirt and the rapid beating of his heart and put everything I have into savoring the way he feels.
"I would never ask you to wait for me. Ever," he says firmly. "If you meet someone, and you fall in love, and he makes you happy, you have to take that. You have to. Or if you want to marry Bud and have really ... well-endowed kids with him, I will get on board. Eventually."
I laugh and he finally looks at me. We've both stopped crying, and now we're just seeing each other. For the first time in a long time.
"But my heart is telling me that one day, we'll find ourselves right back here. Together. Without anything stopping us from being here. Together. And I'm going to hold onto that for a little while if it's okay with you."
I nod and he smiles. And we take a breath. And we let our friends' screaming laughter wash over us. And we're okay. As okay as we're going to be. For now.
Bud appears in his boxer shorts and jogs toward us, picking up his discarded clothes along the way. Joshua stands up and helps me to my feet.
"Are you two done breaking each other's hearts?" Bud asks. He secures the button on his shorts and hugs me around the middle. He's dripping wet and shirtless and I'm flustered by the sudden introduction to his skin all at once. I steal a quick kiss and let myself enjoy it. Joshua turns his eyes away.
"We're getting there," I say. "Are you ready to go?"
"With you? Always." Bud says, wriggling his shirt over his head. "But don't rush goodbye on my account. You guys deserve all the time you need."
Joshua looks at Bud with strange combination of hurt and admiration. "Thanks, man."
"I'm going to go start the van." Bud extends a hand to Joshua. "It's been an honor loving Dot with you," he says. "I mean, it's been awkward as hell. But it was nice to be part of a love story for a while. Even if it wasn't mine."
Joshua is speechless. He takes Bud's hand and Bud pulls him into a long hug. It makes me want to laugh, cry, kiss them both, beat them both senseless, and then hold onto them for the rest of my life. Bud gives my fingertips a gentle squeeze and then he's gone, bounding up the beach toward the row of parked cars.
"Wow," Joshua says, still stunned. "Bud is..."
"Awesome?" I say, not willing to take anything less for an answer.
He grins and shakes his head. "If he's making you happy, then yes. He is awesome."
The van starts up and the headlights snap on, casting a spotlight on my last moment with Joshua. Bud immediately turns them off and it makes me want to run to him. Then he turns on the radio and starts singing Living on a Prayer at the top of his lungs. "I should go," I giggle. "Before the cops come and take Bud away."
"And I should decide if I really want to get naked with my friends right now."
"Wouldn't be the first time," I say.
"That was different." He smiles. "That was special."
I didn't think there was any emotion left in my body, but I feel the prickle of tears behind my eyes, and I take a deep breath to quell the rise. He senses the need to break things off before we start spiraling again, and he pulls me in for a final hug. How final? We don't know.
We separate and cling to each other's wrists, navigating the limbo that comes after the band aid gets ripped off. The big hurt has passed. Now we're waiting out the slow, burning tingle that lingers as the fresh air meets the wound. And things start to feel better.
"I'll miss you," he says.
"Me too."
"Goodbye, Dot."
I brave his eyes one last time.
And I don't regret it.
"Bye, Joshua."
I always watch people walk away. I can't think of a time when I haven't been the last to leave. The last left stewing in the sadness of a goodbye or the bitterness of a fight. But I need this time to be different. If I'm going to get through it, I need to be the one to walk away. Even if it's really, really, really going to hurt.
When his mouth opens to say something, I turn around and start walking. I let the sound of Bud's singing guide me further and further away from the hurt.
Until it's behind me.
I climb into the passenger seat. Bud turns the music down to a murmur. "Did you tell him you love him?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Good," he says. "Then he heard it."
We stay quiet for a minute, and I try to figure out what song is playing on the radio, even though it's too quiet to identify the melody. Only the rhythm stands out. Slow and syncopated.
"I'm sorry you didn't get your happy ending," he says.
"Who says I didn't?"
He turns to me and I'm ready for him to argue, but he doesn't.
He just blushes.
* * * * *