"At first it does hurt. Like hell. But what if eventually it didn't hurt anymore? What if someday it was healing? What if someday it made you happy to talk about her? To think about her? Wouldn't that be worth it?"
"To be honest with you, that sounds like some kind of far-fetched fucking dream. I'm not there."
She smiles. "But you could be. And you will be someday. Despite everything we went through, and as badly as we treated each other, I know your heart isn't made of stone. You're one of the good ones, Gustov."
I smile back. "I try, dude."
Her smile grows. "You are, dude."
After we split a piece of tiramisu, we walk back to Ma's. We share a cigarette during the walk and both tell each other we need to quit. It's after nine o'clock when we approach her car in Ma's driveway. I invite her in, but she says she needs to get back to her aunt's and get some rest. Her flight leaves at six o'clock tomorrow morning.
She's looking at me with relief painted across her face again. "Thank you for agreeing to see me and for forgiving me. I think that was one of the last burdens I needed to release, that guilt I associated with you. I feel lighter and your kind heart did that. Thank you, Gustov."
I smile. "I'm glad you called. This was good. Thanks for forgiving me and my assbag ways, too."
She laughs.
"I'm proud of you, Clare. You're a different person. Keep up the good fight."
She nods. "I will. I have to." She winks. "My new, amazing life kind of depends on it."
I hold out my arms. "Come here."
She steps into my arms, and for a second something feels familiar. It's not sexual at all, but I remember her closeness. She squeezes, and I feel nothing but comfort and friendship. Her words reinforce what I'm feeling. "I'm here if you ever want to talk, Gustov. About anything. I've learned to be a good listener these past few months."
I pull back and smile. "Ditto, lady. Have a safe flight in the morning and stay in touch. I wanna know if you ever quit smoking. And if you do, let me in on the magic secret."
She laughs. "I think the secret is wanting to make the change and doing the work. I'm not there yet. You'll probably quit before I do."
"We should make a bet. Fifty bucks to whoever gives it up first."
"You're on. Good luck."
"Good luck."
I wait until she backs down the driveway and drives away before I go inside. My heart feels a little lighter than it did hours ago. There was no physical attraction to Clare, though she's more beautiful than she was when we hooked up months ago. Her energy was just good. Good to be around. I've blocked myself off from most people lately, and maybe she's right. Maybe I'm only making it worse.
(Scout)
I wake up when I hear the front door opening. I wait a minute to decide if it's Audrey or Gustov, since they've both been out. When I hear the footsteps on the hardwood, I know it's Gustov. I was sleeping on the sofa. I don't know why. I should've just gone to bed after I got out of the shower. But I couldn't. I'm mad at myself for being so affected by seeing him with someone else. She was pretty and it was obvious they've known each other for a while. She wasn't just someone he picked up. It's not jealousy I feel; at least I don't think it is. Hell, I don't know what it is, but I can't stop thinking about him and the fact that I'd never stand a chance with a guy like him.
His footsteps echo through the foyer. They're getting closer to the living room. I keep my eyes closed and pretend to be asleep when he stops just behind the sofa. He starts walking again then the steps vanish, quieted by the rug under the sofa. I can feel him near me. And then, a blanket is draped over me and I feel his lips press softly against my forehead. "Night, Impatient."
I want to open my eyes.
I want to pull him to me.
I just want.
But I don't.
He disappears to his room.
And I stay here alone.
Tuesday, October 24
(Scout)
I got a call from my uncle Jim this morning. He told me that Jane is in rehab.
The news was delivered quickly and efficiently ... because that's how he does everything. His voice sounded flat, emotionless ... because that's how he does everything.
He's not a bad guy, but he is detached. I know how to deal with him though, that's why he called me and not Paxton.
He wants me to tell Paxton.
I don't want to tell Paxton.
I want to keep this from Paxton. Paxton is happier these past few weeks being here than I've ever seen him. He deserves a little more happiness before he's plunged back into his parents' world.
So, I don't tell him. For now, anyway.
Saturday, October 28
(Gus)
I wish I could stay in bed all day and just sleep. I want to skip this day. I want to jump from Friday midnight, to midnight Sunday morning.
I hate reminders.
And today is the worst reminder of all.
It's five-thirty in the morning and I can't go back to sleep. Ma is awake; I hear the coffee pot brewing down the hall. She's always been an early riser, like Bright Side was.
I vocally kick myself in the ass. "Get up you big bastard. Let's face this day."
I search around on the floor for a pair of shorts. I should probably think about doing some laundry—it's reached a critical level. I find a pair of swim trucks and give them the sniff test. They smell bad but still look clean, so I slip them on.