I didn't hear from Connor for the rest of the day, which was weird. We were usually in constant communication. I tried his phone, but there was no answer. So I waited to hear from him, hoping to hear the familiar sound of M&M's plinking against my window—one of the myriad of ways we got each other's attention.
It was 8pm and I was starting to worry, so I walked over to my window and opened it. His light was on and I could see a faint shadow moving across the wall. He was there, and awake. So why the hell hadn't he gotten hold of me? I grabbed my phone and called him, it went straight to voicemail....again.
I reached under my bed and brought out my pellet gun—Yeah, slingshotting M&Ms isn't enough for this girl. The soft plastic pellets don't smash glass or anything, but they do make a nice racket. I aimed and right off the bat, I hit his window. I smiled—I'm such a good shot.
I saw Connor's hand creep around the curtain, and his face soon followed. I waved at him and wrote something on a piece of paper for him to read.
"You okay?"
I saw him reach for his binoculars, (we have this long distance communication thing covered!) He disappeared for a moment, and then returned with his own note.
"Shit day."
"Sorry."
"Feet hurt. And tired. Goodnight."
We waved at each other and closed our curtains. I felt bad for him. I knew he was under a lot of pressure with the upcoming tournament, not to mention his parents' divorce and the upcoming move—I still can't believe he's moving.
Just then, my phone lit up and I grabbed it, thinking Connor wanted to talk. He did. Just not to me.
To: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: Crappy day.
Message: So I have this idea. It goes something like this, I'm having the worst day ever, and I suspect you can help make it better.
Connor X
From: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: Interesting
Message: And how can I make it better?
To: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: As easy as 1, 2, 3
Message: Well...
1. you can tell me who you are.
2. I can drive over there right now.
3. We can pick up where we left off.
Connor XX
From: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: 4
Message: 4. Or we could just talk
Your mystery kisser XXX
There was a really long wait and I went to my computer, knowing that if he wrote back, it would probably be a long message. Meanwhile, I surreptitiously looked out my window to see what Connor was doing. I could just make out the top of his shoulders and it looked like he, too, was sitting at his computer. He was typing something. I waited for what felt like forever.
To: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: 4 it is then.
Message: I'll take it. So...My parents are getting divorced, I just found out my dad seems to be over this whole 'being a husband things', and he's moved out. I came home today from school and there was some fake-tanned real estate agent there picking at our house like a vulture.
My mom is an emotional wreck. She broke down crying today and told me that she doesn't want to get divorced, only my dad does. And he won't go to therapy to try and make it work, he's just giving up. She looks heartbroken and I don't know what to do for her.
And I screamed at her for the first time ever today, and I feel terrible, and selfish like a bad son. I want to be there for her, but I don't know how. I guess I want someone to be there for me, too, but it doesn't feel like anyone is. I feel so lame. I'm 17 and I feel like a kid that just wants his mom to hug him and make him feel better, but she can't. And I hate my dad right now. I never want to see him again. What kind of a person just walks out on their family one day?
Sorry, I can't believe I'm telling you all this. What's wrong with me?
Connor XXXX
My heart was in my throat as I read the message for the third time. Mrs Matthews doesn't want to get divorced. And Connor was really moving—like now. That news hit me even harder. I felt sick and wanted to jump out my window and run over to his house immediately to stop him from going.
But worst of all, I wished I could take his pain away. I read his last sentence ten times, and each time a part of my heart broke for him. Nothing was wrong with him. He was just going through what kids go through during a divorce. But was still hard to help him, because I didn't know how to.
What Connor needed right now was someone who understood what he was going through. He needed someone that could relate to him and tell him it was going to be okay and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. The world around him was wrong, not him.
I started typing into Google, "How to help a friend cope with divorce." A million articles sprang up and I started reading them.
I typed more words into the search engine, "what it feel like when your parents get divorced"? More articles sprung up and I started skim reading them and then I did something. Something that I knew was wrong. Something that I knew I shouldn't do.
Does the end really justify the means? This would be the second time I'd lied to Connor in the last week, and in ten years I'd never lied to him. Well, there was that omission I guess- the one where I hadn't told him how I really felt. But this was different. This was so blatant. But still it didn't stop me. The overwhelming need to make Connor feel better and to let him know he was perfect, there was nothing wrong with him, overcame any rational thoughts about what was wrong and what was right. And lying was not right, but I did it anyway.
From: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: In the same boat
Message: There's nothing wrong with you! My parents also got divorced. Two years ago. I was also really angry, with both of them. I lashed out a lot. It's normal to do that. And trust me, your mom understands. Even if she's wrapped up in her own grief right now, she understands. She knows you didn't really mean it.
I know how you feel right now and I promise it does get better. It may not seem like it now, but it gets better. My mom is in a new relationship and she has never been happier, and it has actually improved our relationship, too. Connor, human beings are the most adaptable creatures on the planet, and you will adapt. Coping with divorce is a process, and you have to go with it, because there's nothing you can do to fix it, even if you want to.
I'm so sorry. There is nothing wrong with you or the way you are feeling.
Your mystery kisser XXXX
A part of me felt sick that I'd just written that, but when I got his response, I knew it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.
To: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: :)
Message: Thanks. I feel so much better already. Just knowing that you've been through it and that it gets better. Talking to you, even though we're not really talking, makes me feel so much better.
Connor XXXXXX
From: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: :) :) :)
Message: I'm glad. I'm here for you.
Your mystery kisser XXXXXXX
To: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: No more X's
Message: Why are we sending each other typed X's, when can they be real X's?
From: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: X's
Message: For now email X's will have to do.
Your mystery kisser XXXXXXXXX
To: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com
Subject: Well in that case...
Message:
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I smiled and blushed and felt myself go instantly girly and giggly. I'd never felt this way before and it was nice. But I also knew I was digging a hole that would be very hard to climb out of. And I wasn't just referring to this tangled web of lies and omissions that I was busy weaving, but I was also falling deeper and deeper in love with Connor with every passing second. I climbed into bed feeling a longing connection with him, that is, until it hit me.
Why hadn't Connor told me all that stuff first? That his mom didn't want to get divorced, that there had been an estate agent at his house?
I sat up in bed, it felt like someone punched me in the stomach. He hadn't trusted his best friend with the worst pain of his life. Instead he'd complained of having sore feet and then gone to a complete stranger and poured his heart out.
Suddenly my phone lit up and I grabbed it, expecting to see a message from Connor, telling me everything. But it wasn't. It was Jarrod—Great. My heart sank.
Jarrod: Hey, you want to do something after school tomorrow?
The web was getting more and more tangled. The hole was even deeper, and suddenly, I wished I hadn't roped Jarrod into this and that I could take back the lie to Connor, even if it had made him feel better—Shit! I climbed out of bed and paced my room, my feet felt like they were on fire and they wouldn't let me stop walking. I had this sense of dread growing in my belly; what was I doing?
What the hell was I doing?