Filed to story: If He Had Been With Me Book PDF Free
“No,” I say. I realize too late that my tone sounds defensive. He doesn’t notice.
“Huh,” he says. “I thought—” He breaks off and frowns again. “Huh.”
“What? You thought everybody was doing it?” I ask. He shrugs and looks away from me. I wonder what time it is, how much longer of my self-enforced sentence on the front porch is left. The sky doesn’t look any lighter.
“Why are you out here anyway?” he asks.
I’m surprised that my throat tightens. “My parents had a fight,” I say.
“Oh.”
“My dad drove away and my mom’s at your place.”
“Autumn, I’m sorry.”
“It’s the same old, same old,” I say.
“But I really am sorry,” he says. “I really am.” He has turned to face me on the step again.
“It’s fine,” I say.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m sobering up,” he says.
“Will you still want to talk to me when you’re sober?” There is another silence after that. I look into his face. I cannot read it. I stare at him and watch him take a deep breath.
“I’ll still want to,” he says, but something in his tone says no anyway.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you love Jamie?” My breath catches in my throat again. “I mean—is he good to you?” Finny says.
“What?” I ask. My shock shows in my voice and this time it does look like he notices. I try to make my tone light, as if I’m laughing at him. “Don’t tell me that you’re going big brother on me all of a sudden.”
Finny shrugs. He is not looking at me anymore. I wonder if he’s blushing. He probably is.
“Yeah,” I finally say. “I do love him. And he’s a good guy.” I try to imagine what sort of guy he thinks Jamie might be, what he would do if I confirmed his suspicions. I remember him punching Donnie Banks in fifth grade. “And anyway, I don’t think Sylvie would appreciate it if you fought Jamie to defend my honor.”
“Yeah,” Finny says. His face is still turned away. “I’d do it anyway though.”
“Are you sure you still would want to if you were sober?” I say.
Finny nods. “Yeah,” he says again. “But I’m only telling you because I’m not.”
I think about the things I would say to Finny if I were drunk, or at least brave enough to say them. First I would tell him that his jacket smells good. Then I would tell him that I liked sitting here talking to him, that I don’t want to go inside and end the conversation.
“You remember middle school?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. The wind blows in the trees. The sky still isn’t any lighter. Perhaps no time has passed at all. Perhaps we will sit here together forever. I wouldn’t mind; it might be better than facing tomorrow. I wait for him to finish his thought. He’s frowning again.
“I should probably go inside before I say anything else I shouldn’t,” Finny says. “I think I can fake it enough to get upstairs.”
“Oh, okay,” I say. He stands up and looks at me.
“You’re not going to stay out here, are you?” he asks. I shake my head.
“No, I guess not,” I say. I stand up and start to take off his jacket. He opens his mouth and starts to put his hand out like he’s holding traffic, then stops. He takes the jacket from me.
“Thanks,” we say at the same time. We both smile weakly. “Good night,” I say. He nods and walks off the porch.
“Hey, wait,” he says. I look back at him. He is standing at the imaginary line that divides my yard from his. “It’s a little past my curfew now. If Mom’s mad in the morning, can I use you as an excuse?”
“Sure,” I say. “Tell her I bawled my eyes out on your shoulder.” He smiles again.
“She’ll love that,” he says. “Not you crying but, you know. G’night,” he says. I turn away again and go inside.
***
I lie in my cold bed and look at the light coming from Finny’s bedroom window. I remember how, whenever I was sad, I would signal him with my flashlight, and he would take the cup up on his side of the string strung between our windows, and we would talk until we both fell asleep. It’s a long time before the light goes out.
Jamie said that once he had his driver’s license, we would be free to be together whenever we liked. Nothing would keep us apart except my curfew.
Mostly we just drive around. Sometimes we park behind the library and make out. It’s uncomfortable with my head pressing into the door and my knees bent, but I pretend that it isn’t because I like the idea of making out in his car; like a scene from a movie, the windows fog up in the cold and the radio plays our song.
I don’t know much about driving. Jamie is the only other person my age I’ve ridden with, but I think he must be a good driver. I feel safe with him. I like to watch him drive, to study his profile, to see his eyes focused away from me. He is so remote from me, and it makes me want him more.
My mother has always said that my father will teach me to drive someday, and I’m still waiting for that day. For now, it doesn’t matter; there is never a place I want to be that Jamie isn’t going too.
***
Finny got his driver’s license on his birthday. Aunt Angelina taught him to drive ages ago. She says he is a good driver, but she is still terrified of him killing himself on the road some night. It’s hard for me to understand how she jumps so quickly from driving to death. Every night, people ride around in cars without dying.
I am a virgin, and I cannot drive.
I am afraid of losing my virginity in Jamie’s car. I stay on guard for a fit of passion that could cause me to make this crucial mistake, but it never comes. I’m in control when I let him slide his finger inside me; I know what’s happening when he takes my hand and cups it around his erection.
I never let Jamie see me when we touch each other and I never look at him. When I open my shirt and let him kiss my breasts, I watch him to make sure his eyes are closed. I want him to see me for the first time when we make love. It’s part of my daydream—slowly undressing each other and seeing for the first time all of the secret parts of us we have hidden.
And it makes me less afraid.
***
One evening, Jamie asks me to hold the wheel for him as he reaches for a CD. I trust that if he asks me to do it, then it must mean I can do it. I nearly run us off the road. Jamie grabs the wheel and rights us again.
“Geez, Autumn,” he mumbles. He doesn’t say anything else until he pulls into my driveway at curfew. “Maybe you should never learn to drive,” he says after he kisses me. “I can’t stand the idea of you killing yourself.”
I know that someday I will die, and I know that someday I will lose my virginity; these two things seem equally probable, equally impossible.
Finny’s curfew is half an hour later than mine, and on the weekends I listen for his car as I lie in bed waiting for sleep. It’s comforting, hearing his motor and then the car door slam, the creak of his back door. I watch for the sudden glow of his bedroom window when he flicks on the light. He crosses the room with his shirt off. His light goes out again, and I know he is lying in his bed by the window, two panes of glass and twenty feet of air separating us.
I’m feeling sick the last day of the semester, but I have to go—I have three finals that day. I stare at the clock all morning, counting the hours until I can go home and go to bed. At lunch, I start to feel nauseous and only have a bottled water. Jamie is sweet to me and strokes my hair when I lay my head on the table.
“Baby, I think you should go home,” he says. I rock my head back and forth on the table to signify shaking my head no. After lunch, Jamie carries my book bag to Mr. Laughegan’s class for me. I don’t bother going through his drawers today; I immediately go to my own desk and slump down in the seat. With Christmas coming and two weeks of freedom just a few hours away, everyone else is in a great mood, test or no test. I listen to the sound of the other kids filing in and taking their desks and I want to die. Jamie lays one hand on my back and talks to Sasha about a movie they both want to see that I don’t. The others are making plans to go to the mall, complaining about visiting relatives, talking about catching up on sleep. Sleep sounds good to me.
Mr. Laughegan’s test is easy for me, even in my weakened condition. I finish first and lay the bundle of papers face down on Mr. Laughegan’s desk. He looks at me, and I know he is taking in my pale skin and blank expression. I smile weakly at him before he can ask me if I am okay. I walk to my seat and think that I should study for my geometry exam, but my stomach is feeling worse and I go back to resting my head on my desk.