Filed to story: If He Had Been With Me Book PDF Free
“Thanks, Finny,” I say as I sit back down on the floor. He only nods, but then he smiles softly when I put the tiara on my head along with the first one.
By the time we are finished with the presents, it is after noon. The Mothers go into the kitchen to get lunch together. I go to my favorite chair by the window to start one of the books I got. I have a nice pile I am looking forward to working through in the next week we still have off. Dad and Finny watch some sports thing on the couch. I barely register it when Dad gets up and leaves the room. He often has to take important calls from The Office, even on holidays.
“Hey, Autumn?” Finny says. His voice is suddenly so close and low that I start in my chair. I look up. Finny is standing by the arm of the chair looking down at me. His hands are stuffed in his pockets.
“Yeah?” I say.
“I don’t think the favor you asked me is going to be a problem.”
“Thanks,” I say. I smile, but he doesn’t.
“What are you two whispering about?” Aunt Angelina says from the doorway.
“Nothing,” we both say. She cocks her head to the side and smiles at us.
“Lunch is ready,” she says.
***
“So how is Finny holding up?” my mother asks as we cross the yard back over to our house. It is evening now and I rub my arms against the cold, glad the walk isn’t far.
“What are you talking about?” I say.
“The breakup,” she says. I catch myself before I stop in my tracks from surprise.
“Finny and Sylvie broke up?” I say.
“I thought you would know that,” my mother says. She opens the door and we take off our coats in the entryway.
“Mom, why in the world would I know that?” I say.
“Angelina said he was pretty broken up about it the night it happened, but I thought he seemed okay today,” she says, ignoring my exasperation. She goes into the kitchen with a plate of leftovers for the fridge. “Of course,” she calls from the kitchen, “it’s always hard to tell with Finny.” I follow her and stand in the doorway. I doubt that Finny would dump Sylvie because she told someone that I was pregnant, but the thought has crossed my mind anyway.
“Why did he break up with her?” I ask.
“She broke up with him,” Mom says.
“Seriously?”
“You’re surprised too?” she asks.
“It just always seemed like she was so into him,” I say.
“That’s what I said,” Mom says. “And of course I’m biased, but he’s such a handsome and sweet boy, I don’t know why she wouldn’t be.”
“I hope he’s okay,” I say. Thinking of Finny with a broken heart hurts me. I want to ask Sylvie what she could possibly be thinking. Whatever her reply would be, it wouldn’t matter; I’d still want to pull her ponytail for hurting him.
“Why don’t you call and ask him?” my mother says. “Or go back over there?” I roll my eyes.
“Mother,” I say. She sighs and shakes her head.
I go upstairs with my books. Finny’s light is on, but his curtains are closed. Aunt Angelina said he seemed pretty broken up the night it happened. For someone as quiet and stoic as Phineas Smith, that says a lot. I remember the couple of times I saw Finny cry when we were kids. My throat tightens.
“Fuck you, Sylvie,” I say.
Finny and Sylvie aren’t the only casualty of Christmas break. Mike dumped Angie. The first day of the semester she cries in the bathroom during lunch. We crowd into the stall with her and hold her hands.
“He said I didn’t do anything wrong, but it just wasn’t working,” she says between sobs. “What does that mean?”
“That he is an idiot,” Sasha says. “That’s what it means.” We nod and she goes back to crying. I look at her face.
I had a boyfriend for a few months in eighth grade. His name was Josh and we held hands in the hallways and talked on the phone every night. He broke up with me suddenly one afternoon, saying he just didn’t feel the same anymore. For days, it felt like I had been punched in the stomach. It was like I couldn’t breathe, like something had been ripped from my abdomen. The feeling was so distinct; it was different from any other kind of sadness I had known before or since. Watching Angie cry reminds me of that feeling. It’s like smelling the pungent flavor of a sickening food I had once eaten. I never want to feel like that again.
We hug her for a while and head back to our table. Finny and Sylvie are still sitting at the same table with the rest of their friends, but they aren’t sitting next to each other anymore. I have an idea of how awkward things must be at the table. This morning at the bus stop they stood apart from each other and didn’t talk once. Finny hung his head and looked at the ground. Sylvie stared coolly down the road, her head held high. I upgraded my fantasy of pulling her hair to pushing her in front of the bus.
In Honors English, their group has rearranged so that Finny and Sylvie aren’t sitting next to each other anymore. I think about how complicated it would be if one of our couples broke up. It’s hard for me to imagine. Brooke and Noah still adore each other; they seem safe. Sasha and Alex are usually happy.
I try to picture Jamie and me breaking up.
My first reaction is a shocking sense of relief; if Jamie and I broke up, it would mean that he wasn’t the great love of my life; I wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore that I sometimes think about being with someone else, wondering if it would be better, maybe even perfect with him.
I glance across the classroom. He’s looking down, doodling in his notebook and quietly talking to Jack. He’s longing for someone else too, someone who isn’t me. And love the way it’s described in books and poems isn’t real; it’s immature to long for that, and it’s silly to think that with the right person it would be that. Jamie takes care of me and he loves me; in the real world, it can’t get better than that.
My second reaction is a feeling of fear; I love Jamie and the idea that love could be so impermanent scares me.
“Who read the assigned pages over the break?” Mr. Laughegan asks, breaking my thoughts. I raise my hand. Most of the others do too. “Okay, what did you think about the secret Mr. Rochester had in the attic? Autumn?”
My hand wasn’t up anymore, but I know my answer anyway. Mr. Laughegan usually calls on me first to get discussions started.
“I knew there was something strange going on, but I didn’t expect what happened. I seriously almost dropped the book,” I say. “And then I was so upset that I couldn’t sleep. I kept waking up so mad at Mr. Rochester—“
“I was so upset I couldn’t sleep?” Alexis says behind me. Several people, including Sylvie, laugh. Mr. Laughegan gives them a look.
“I’m not sure if I should still want Jane to end up with Mr. Rochester anymore,” I continue, “but I do anyway.”
“Why’s that?” Mr. Laughegan says. I pause for a moment, struggling to put the feeling into words.
“Because everyone always says that you never get over your first love. She loved Mr. Rochester first, and she loved him so much. Even if she fell in love again, I think part of her would always be wishing she was still with him.”
“And what is it Mr. Rochester did that upset Autumn so much? Alexis?” he says. I look over my shoulder. Alexis flushes and stumbles over her answer.
Everyone always says you never get over your first love. I imagine myself with someone else and longing for Jamie, my first love. I take a deep breath and remind myself that that will never happen; Jamie says he’s going to marry me.
“Never leave me,” I say to Jamie as we walk out of the classroom together.
“I won’t,” he promises.
It snows for Valentine’s Day. I put on the snowflake tiara for school; it’s my new favorite, and I wear it every day that there is snow on the ground. I’ll have to retire it when spring comes, but like all winters, this one lasts forever.
At the bus stop, Todd the Junior gives roses to Katie the New Girl. They’re dating now; I like to think I helped make that happen. Because Finny and Sylvie no longer talk, the three of us listen to them every morning instead. It isn’t as bad.
Katie smiles and looks at her roses as she talks. I know that Jamie will be waiting for me at school with a similar bunch. Jamie always gives me roses, usually red. Sometimes I wish he would be more creative, but it is ridiculous to complain about roses. Lots of girls at school wish they were the ones Jamie was bringing roses to.
Jamie is taking me out to dinner tonight. His gift is at home, waiting for me to give to him. I collected for him an assortment of little things I thought he would like; a CD I burned of songs that make me think of him, the action figure of his favorite anime character’s wife, some candy, a little rubber turtle, a love letter I spent forever on.
When we hear the bus rumbling down the road, I realize that Finny isn’t here yet. I look down the sidewalk toward our houses. He isn’t running to get to the bus stop on time; he isn’t anywhere I can see. The bus begins to slow in front of us.
“Is Finn coming to school today?” Sylvie says. It takes me a second to realize she might be talking to me. I look over my shoulder. She is looking at me.