Filed to story: The One That Got Away
“I don’t want you to go to Genevivian’s any more. How do you think that makes me look to her?”
Louis looks at me steadily. “I can’t not be there for Gen, so don’t ask me to.”
“But, Louis, what does she even need you for when she has a new boyfriend?”
He flinches, and right away I’m sorry I said it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s fine. I don’t expect you to understand it. Vivian and I … we just get each other.”
He doesn’t know it, but when Louis talks about Genevivian, he gets a certain softness in his face. It’s tenderness mixed with impatience. And something else. Love. Louis can protest all he wants, but I know he still loves her.
Sighing, I ask, “Did you at least study for the test?”
Louis shakes his head, and I sigh again.
“You can look at my notes during lunch,” I say, and I head back to my class.
It’s starting to make sense to me. Why he’d go along with a scheme like this, why he’d spend his time with someone like me. It’s not so he can move on from Gen. It’s so he can’t. I’m just his excuse. I’m holding Genevivian’s place for her. When that piece makes sense, everything else starts to.
Josh’s parents fight a lot. I don’t know if it’s a normal amount of fighting because I only have one parent, but I don’t remember my parents fighting that much when I had two. Our houses are close enough that I can hear them sometimes, if my window is open. The fights usually start out with something small, like Mrs Sanderson accidentally leaving the car door open and the battery going dead, and end with something big, like how Mr Sanderson works too much and is inherently selfish and not cut out for a family.
When they fight bad, Josh comes over. When we were younger, he’d sneak out sometimes in his pyjamas with his pillow, and he’d stay until his mom came looking for him. It’s not something we talk about. Maybe him and Alice, but not me and him. The most he ever said about it was that sometimes he wished they’d just get divorced so it could finally be over. They never did, though.
I can hear them tonight. I’ve heard them other nights since Alice left, but tonight sounds particularly bad. So bad I close my window. I gather up my homework and go downstairs and turn on the living-room light so Josh knows he can come over if he wants.
Half an hour later there’s a knock at the door. I wrap myself in my pale-blue baby blanket and open it.
It’s Josh. He smiles at me sheepishly. “Hey. Can I hang out here for a bit?”
“Course you can.” I leave the door open and trudge back to the living room. I call back, “Lock it behind you.”
Josh watches TV and I do my homework. I’m highlighting my way through US history when Josh asks me, “Are you going to try out for Arcadia?” That’s the spring play. They just announced it yesterday.
“No,” I say, switching highlighter colours. “Why would I?” I hate public speaking and getting up in front of people, and Josh knows it.
“Duh, because it’s your favourite play.” Josh changes the channel. “I think you’d be a really good Thomasina.”
I smile. “Thanks but no thanks.”
“Why not? It could be something good to put on your college apps.”
“It’s not like I’m going to be a theatre major or anything.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to get out of your comfort zone a little bit,” he says, stretching his arms out behind his head. “Take a risk. Look at Alice. She’s all the way over in Scotland.”
“I’m not Alice.”
“I’m not saying you should move to the other side of the world. I know you’d never do that. Hey, what about Honour Council? You love judging people!”
I make a face at him.
“Or Model UN. I bet you’d like that. I’m just saying … your world could be bigger than just playing checkers with Kitty and riding around in Kavinsky’s car.”
I stop highlighting mid-sentence. Is he right? Is my world really that small? It’s not like his world is so big! “Josh,” I begin. Then I pause, because I don’t know how I’m going to finish the sentence. So instead I throw my highlighter at him.
It ricochets off his forehead. “Hey! You could have hit me in the eye!”
“And you would have deserved it.”
“OK, OK. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that you should give people a chance to know you.” Josh points the remote control at me and says, “If people knew you, they would love you.” He sounds so matter-of-fact.
Josh, you break my heart. And you’re a liar. Because you know me, you know me better than almost anybody, and you don’t love me.
After Josh goes back home, I tidy up the living room, lock all the doors and turn off the lights. Then I pour myself a glass of water and head upstairs.
The light is on in my bedroom, and Chris is asleep in my bed. I roll her to the side so I can fit in too. Stirring, she mumbles, “Wanna go get hot wings?”
“It’s too late to eat hot wings,” I say, pulling my quilt up so it covers both of us. “You just missed Josh.”
Her eyes fly open. “Joshy was here? Why?”
“No reason.” I won’t tell Josh’s secrets, not even to Chris.
“Well, don’t mention it to Kavinsky.”
“He wouldn’t care,” I say.
Chris shakes her head. “All boys care.”
“Louis’s not like that. He’s really confident.”
“They’re the ones that care the most,” she says. I’m about to ask her what she means, but before I can, she says, “Let’s go do something wild.”