Chapter 3
The last time Cedric and I met before the breakup was when I dropped by at his house. His dad was at work and I decided to help him study for his SATs. We've never really openly talked about the prospect of him moving away for college, but it hung over us like a heavy blanket.
Cedric had his eyes set on Boston College for a degree in Biology. That was a long way from home, but while the idea of him leaving had always been terrifying, I figured that if it was the two of us, we could figure things out.
It was the beginning of summer and already, tourists were beginning to fill the streets. My house was on the neighborhood farthest from the ocean so we hardly ever really felt the tourist rush, but when we got to the town proper closer to the beach, we would see them, all ready to spend their vacations under the sun, booking rooms in the small inns or hotels across town, renting life vests and floaters and availing surfing lessons for beginners.
To them, Rivermount must have been this picture perfect place where they could spend their Best Summer Ever! away from the looming skyscrapers and wide eight-lane roads.
To me, however, Rivermount had only ever been the only home I knew: a catalogue that featured the coffee shop Hail and I loved; the diner where Cedric had taken me out on our first date as a couple; the used books store I often frequented—and the catalogue always involved Hail and Cedric, so I couldn't picture life without him here.
His father's pickup truck was nowhere in sight when I got there. I knew where their spare key was—under the flower pot next to the gnome—but I still rang the doorbell. It didn't take a while for him to open the door. I hadn't told him that I was coming over, and once he saw me, I was glad to see his face morph into an expression of pleasant surprise.
"Hey, you," he said, almost automatically grinning as he held out his hands and wrapped me in a hug.
When we both pulled away, I raised the plastic bag I held in one hand. "I brought ice cream."
He gave me an appreciative look, eyebrows raised (because he could never raise just one of them) and mouth tilted into a close-lipped smile. "You know me too well."
We made our way inside the house, straight to the kitchen so we can eat before the ice cream melted. I asked him how the studying was going, to which he replied with a scowl and a slight shake of his head. I laughed. We grabbed a spoon each and made our way to the backyard, sitting on the long wooden bench his father bought on impulse from a garage sale.
He was in the middle of telling me things he read and heard about Boston when he suddenly stopped.
"Hey," he suddenly said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
He set his spoon down, turning to face me completely. His brown eyes—warm and familiar and soothing—searched mine as he reached up to tuck my hair behind my left ear. "Are you worried?"
I didn't think it showed, but he must have seen it, and I knew there was no point in lying, so I said, "Sorry."
I shook my head, unable to meet his eyes. I was ashamed of having these selfish thoughts, but there was no way I could fool myself into thinking that I was fine with all of this.
"It's just that"—I paused, swallowing past the lump in my throat—"I can't imagine not having you here."
He reached for my hands, both of them, and he clasped them in both of his. "I don't want you to feel like I'm leaving you behind, because I'm not."
I looked up at him. "I'll be fine."
His grip on my hands tightened. "I know," he murmured. "But will I be?"
Stunned, I could only look at him.
"You probably don't know," he said, letting go of my hands so he can lean forward and place both of his on either side of my face, "but I've known this for a while now: I need you more than you think I do."
At that moment, I let his words ease my mind. I put my trust in him, never once thinking that he could be lying.
Two weeks later, he broke up with me.
---
Over the course of four days, I'd gotten more and more familiar with my new routine.
I'd gotten used to the empty passenger seat when I drove off campus to grab some lunch, avoiding the cafeteria so I wouldn't have to be in the same room as Cedric and Hail; to the fact that I didn't share any of my classes with Hail and to the heavy silence between me and Cedric in History.
I must have made it clear that I would rather not talk to him again because he made no more attempts to strike up a conversation with me. We mostly just sat in silence, taking notes and listening intently to the lecture, doing our best not to talk to each other at all.
By Thursday, I was beginning to feel comfortable wandering the corridors alone and leaving the campus to have lunch elsewhere, and as soon as the lunch bell rang, I jumped out of my seat to get out of my AP Lit class. I hadn't yet decided where I was going to eat for the day, but I figured I could come up with something while driving.
"Found you."
I let out a surprised shriek. I looked to my right, my heart thudding loudly against my ribcage, to find Seth Everett leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, a lazy smile plastered across his face, and he made it look as if there was nothing unnatural about hanging out by the school entrance.
I wasn't sure why he hadn't yet left me alone. He insisted on trying to spark up conversations with me during homeroom, or whenever we happened to meet each other in the parking lot. It wasn't that he was intentionally trying to talk to me; it had mostly been him leaning over to ask something about the assignment or to whisper something about Mr. Lowenstein's (horrible) wardrobe.
This was the first time he'd specifically sought me out.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was just beginning to wonder where you always disappear to have lunch," he replied.
"That's bordering on creepy stalker status, Everett."
He laughed and pushed himself off the wall, shoving both hands in his pockets and lifting his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "How about that party tomorrow night, Evans? Have you decided?"
There was no way I could ever shake off the doubt I felt towards him and all his practiced movements, so instead of telling him no, I blurted out, "Did someone put you up to this?"
A look of genuine confusion crossed his face, eyebrows stitching together and lips turning down into a slight frown. Perhaps it was the first real expression I'd ever seen on his face, and I couldn't help but feel a little guilty.
Thrown off, I cleared my throat and averted my gaze.
"I just find it weird," I explained, "for you to be this persistent."
"I was just trying to say thanks for the pen."
"It's just a pen, Everett." I shook my head and began to walk across the parking lot. "It's not exactly a valuable one either, so stop bugging me."
I didn't think he would follow me, but then I heard him fall into step behind me. "I would hardly call this bugging."
I whirled around without warning, causing him to almost ram into me if he hadn't stopped in time. "I'm not like the other girls, okay? Whatever you want, it's not going to happen."
If my outburst affected him, he hardly showed it. He simply leaned uncomfortably closer, letting his lips tug into that practiced smile of his.
"We'll see about that."
His eyes pierced through mine, but I could tell, as usual, that this was nothing but a game to him. I was nothing but a challenge to beat; another conquest to conquer, but it was never going to happen.
"I'll come tomorrow," I said, and a triumphant look automatically appeared on his face, "but that's it. I'll show up tomorrow and you're never going to bother me again. One night and that's it."
A smirk. "That's usually the way it goes."
I scoffed, appalled at his cockiness, but before I could say anything, he was already leaning away. He tapped the hood of my car twice, sending me a triumphant smirk, before turning to leave.
---
Mom's car was, surprisingly, parked in the driveway when I got home. Her shoes were strewn by the front door and her coat was hanging on the side of the couch. Mom had a bad habit of leaving clothes and accessories wherever. Back then, it used to drive me crazy, but now she was hardly ever home, and I was beginning to miss it.
When I stepped into the kitchen, I found her studying some documents, papers scattered across the tabletop.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her home so early and for a second, I just stood there, realizing it's been so long since the last time I found myself alone with her. I didn't even know how to act around her anymore.
It took her a while to notice me standing by the doorway, but when she did, she merely glanced at me before focusing back on what she was doing.
I would have asked what she wanted for dinner. We could eat together, I would tell her, but I came to familiarize myself with this expression on her face over the years and I knew that she would only reply with "I'm busy" or "maybe next time," so I decided to leave her alone to work, grabbing an apple before climbing upstairs to go to my room.
The house hadn't always been this quiet. It used to be filled with hoots and laughter when Mom, Dad and I played a game of Monopoly in the living room. Sometimes, it would be Scrabble or, when I was much younger, Snakes n' Ladders. We would spend Sunday nights setting up dinner at the backyard. My father would grill some barbecue and I would help Mom bake cupcakes inside.
Now the house felt as though it was hardly ever lived in. I couldn't remember the last time we watched TV or ate a meal together. Without Dad, Mom and I merely hovered around each other, coexisting but not living together, like parallel lines sitting just a few units away from each other on a Cartesian plane.
I wasn't sure how exactly we drifted apart.
It was just one of those things that happened, and by the time I realized it, there was already this big gap between us. She got promoted and she started to immerse herself more in her work, and I learned to get used to her absence.
Back then, I didn't really mind it. Cedric knew about the strained relationship I had with her and he always made an effort to keep me company when he knew I was alone or to call when neither of us could come over to the other's house. Or if Cedric was too busy, Hail would call me up for a sleepover or a movie marathon.
Cedric and Hail were always here to fill the silence in this house, and not having them now magnified the emptiness of every room, of this once familiar place that held lingering impressions of all the people who left me behind.