I get the distinct impression that Jay's not used to rejection - not just from girls, but possibly from every person and angle in life. I wish he wouldn't take it as an actual rejection, but more of a reasonable cause to believe I'm not emotionally available. Is it my imagination, or has he now positioned himself at the furthest point on the bench from where I'm sitting?
After a few seconds of deliberating silence, he responds, "You need to stop trying to convince me that you have some deep, dark secret - that if I ever found out it would turn me off. Whatever you've got going on, it's not going to make me want you any less."
"It's not a secret. It's not like that. I know I'm sounding like a broken record here but . . . it's complicated."
"You? Complicated? Not possible," he says with diverted sarcasm.
"Shut up. I'm not complicated. My situation is."
"You are, just a little bit."
"And you're just a little bit annoying." Why is he sitting so far away from me? Why do I care?
There's a quote that people always credit to Albert Einstein, that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results. The odd thing is, Einstein never said this. Maybe Jay is insane for trying repeatedly for an impossible outcome. Maybe the world itself is insane for its misguided assumption. Maybe it's me who's at fault, for humouring him, for agreeing to this moment, for wanting to kiss him, for letting him get close and then pushing him away.
It's insane to continue blaming him, when it's evident that I want him too. "What if . . . what if we're friends? We can hang out sometimes?"
"I can't just be your friend."
"Goddamnit Jay . . . I'm trying to come up with a solution here. We can either be friends, or this is really goodbye. Not next week. Not with another 'casual get-together'. Not with repetitive conversations where you can't get things through your giant head. Right now. This'll be it." There has never been a time in my life where I've been this indecisive about something. I stood by all of my past decisions, firmly, explaining each step to myself with unwavering confidence. Here and now, the choice I made a day, a minute, even a second ago is ever-evolving. For reasons still beyond my understanding, and no matter how infuriating I find him, I can't walk away, or at least not in the same grand capacity I wanted to before. Somehow I have to make the two halves of my conscience meet, if only to keep us from playing this game of emotional ping-pong.
"So we'll be friends, knowing we're both into each other, but we can't be together?"
"I know it sounds weird, but that's where I'm at now. Can you please agree with me for once?" Friendship might be an acceptable compromise. Maybe in time the feelings will change, and he'll move on. Maybe tomorrow I'll change my mind again. "It's either this or nothing at all."
"Fine, but only on one condition. You stay here longer tonight."
"I'll stay longer, but no more talk of this, and you don't ever kiss me again." I had to throw that out there, because I know if he tries again I will not be strong enough to move back.
"What if you want to kiss me? Do I push you off?"
"No, because it'll never happen," I respond through a forced, awkward laugh. "Moving on . . . "
I close my eyes for an instant and go back to cursing at myself soundlessly. If he keeps up his end of this new deal, then this particular debate will finally be over. Except, given our history, based on its chronic twists and the lack of logic or solid conclusion presented by either side, I can assume that it's not over at all.
The sky is now painted with hues of red, purple and blue, and golden lines in the distant clouds where the sun is about to disappear into the horizon. A few scattered stars blink themselves into the night's canvas, and in an attempt to ease my soul, I begin to name all the constellations I can barely make out. Cepheus, Pisces, Cassiopeia, Andromeda - while at a time they helped navigate sailors home, they now help me find solace in the solitude. I stand up and walk towards the edge of the cliff, and as I get closer, the tips of the trees and branches that pierce the sky become sparse. When I'm about ten feet from the end, I sit down on the thinning grass.
A minute later Jay sits down next to me, and we remain in polished serenity for a long time. It may seem unimaginable - I feel like things may be finally going my way. With my family. With my financial situation. With Will. Though I have traded in my heart, at least I managed to find another friend in Jay. When his arm grazes against mine, I move away just a touch, afraid I might cross these boundaries I had set up myself.
"Hey, Veronica?"
"Yeah?" I say as I face him.
"You asked about my brother before, if something happened. Do you really wanna know?" He doesn't look at me me. His eyes are focused straight ahead at nothing in particular.
"Only if you want to tell me."
As the night continues to blanket itself over the city, and all the daring stars are now fully visible, I listen to Jay's story, about how his brother's been in and out of rehabilitation centres for the last four years. About how when Jay visits him, his brother doesn't even notice - because his eyes are often grim with a troubled soul, and a mind so far gone he may as well not be there. I don't ask why he's in such state, but Jay tells me anyway - that he's addicted to a dangerous variety of drugs. Heroin. Coke. Antidepressants. OxyContin. He lists many more but speaks as if the terms themselves mean nothing, but rather the addiction.
When the story ends, I search for words that could possibly help in some way. "I'm really sorry. If there's anything you need, I'm here."
"It helps to have someone listen."
"I do have one question - what made you decide to tell me? We don't exactly have a great track record. A few weeks ago I threatened to run you over with a shopping cart." I'm not certain why he chose me to disclose such a heavy secret to. Then again, I never tell anyone anything about myself, with Will being the first exception in years, so who am I to question it?
"I don't know. You're different."
Will had told me the same thing before, and now I'm not sure if I should take it as a compliment or an insult. "How am I different?"
Jay faces me, and it may very well be my mind overlapping the dark, because I swear I can still see the blue of his eyes as if it were bright as day. "The way you carry yourself. You're more self-aware and more perceptive than anyone I've ever met."
"But we officially met like two months ago. How can you tell if I'm self-aware? And perception is only that, perception. What I see and what you see are two totally different things, so how would you even know if I'm any more or less perceptive than your other friends?"
He smiles at me, "You say things like that."
A mixture of flattery, exasperation and confusion washes over me. Besides my parents, no one has ever minded my presence, or known me enough to compliment me in such a way. I'm not sure how to respond to it, and so I stare up at the sky again, letting the stars relax my inability to react properly. With a slight chill now in the air, I hug my knees to my chest to keep out some of the cold."Maybe I should stop talking then."
"Why? Why do you always do that? I'm trying to pay you a compliment."
"Sorry. It's still new to me, you being here. I'm so used to us fighting that these conversations now are hard to take in." I don't want to tell him that I'm incapable of accepting compliments like a normal person. Though my actual response is also true. Beneath that truth, there is the whisper of doubt as well, of the things that Will told me. The sound may be lower now, but if there exists a single beat of truth in any of it, I'm no longer sure I'll be able to recover should the thunder strike me completely.
***
It's early Saturday morning, and I'm in the kitchen preparing breakfast for everyone. Last night projects itself in my mind like a movie on repeat. Every conversation, every look, every single time Jay would move closer or further away from me. I try to break it apart, to see if I can find a flaw, a hint that might make what Will had said appear plausible. Since we have now agreed to be friends, it's important that I'm careful. The danger of it evolving into something more looms over my head and invades my heart, and there is no more strength left inside me to withstand any pain he might cause.
If I can manage to compartmentalize everything, then I can learn to adapt accordingly, whatever each part may bring.
"Can I please have some waffles?" Matty asks as he runs into the kitchen.
"Sure you can, buddy. Have a seat!"
"Hey Veronica, why'd you quit school? Mom and dad always said that school's the most important thing in the world," he asks about a minute after sitting down at the table.
I had been dreading this conversation. Explaining my decision to my parents was one thing. Explaining it to Matty is a whole other process that involves a more delicate approach. What can I say to someone his age that won't make him latch onto my choices? I turn the stove off crouch down his eye level. "Matty, I quit because I had to. One day, when you're older, I'll tell you exactly why I had to. But remember, you should always listen to what they say. They're your parents and they love you, and they know what's best for you."
"But they're your parents too. So how come you didn't listen to them, if they know what's best for us?"