Filed to story: If He Had Been With Me Book PDF Free
“Yeah, my girlfriend is the cool one,” he says. Brooke huffs and rolls her eyes to Noah. Angie shrugs. Jamie and I look at each other. His eyes are pleading. I stomp up the hill toward him.
“You have to be in front,” I say. Jamie smiles and holds the sled in place with his foot. I sit down and he jumps down in front of me. He reaches for my arms and locks them around his waist, and for a moment I feel less nervous.
“Hold on to me,” he says.
Jamie shifts his weight, inches the sled forward, and we’re smoothly flying. I bury my face in Jamie’s jacket. Suddenly we are jolted. My eyes squeeze tighter when I lose my grip on Jamie and I feel my body thrown into the air. The air is like ice in my throat as I gasp. Something hard and warm strikes my face just before I hit the ground. My surprise overcomes the pain for a moment, and then I realize that I am sitting up in the snow with my hands clamped over my eye. And it hurts.
“Autumn, oh fuck,” Jamie says. I hear the crunch of snow as the others run down the hill toward us. I take in a shuddering breath through my locked teeth. I find tears over physical pain so embarrassing.
“I’m fine,” I say without unlocking my jaw. It’s a reflex, but I know I’m not dying so it must be true enough. Mittens grab at me, trying to pull my hands away from my face. Instinctively I shy away from them, trying to protect my pain. “Don’t,” I say. I open my other eye to glare at the offender. Jamie and Sasha are kneeling in front of me, their faces close to mine. The others are standing behind them.
“You have to let us see,” Sasha says. My annoyance at her suddenly shifts to Jamie for making me go down the stupid ramp with him. I have a moment of fury. I hate it when he convinces me to do things I don’t want to, and then I remember that I’ll be embarrassed later if I behave emotionally. I slowly move my hand from my face. It’s an effort to fight the instinct to hide my injury. Everyone takes in a sharp breath and stares at me.
“It’s not that bad,” I say. No one answers me.
“Uh,” Jamie says. Sasha packs a fist full of snow together and tries to press it into my eye. I flinch away again.
“Oh man, Autumn,” Alex says. “You’re gonna have a black eye from Jamie’s head.”
“We have ice inside,” Noah says as I try to struggle away from Sasha’s ministrations. “Stop trying to smash snow into her face.”
“We have got to put something on it,” Jamie says. “It already looks awful.”
“I’m fine,” I say. I stand up and they grab my arms on either side. I let Jamie and Sasha lead me up the hill—our friends trailing behind us like a parade—and inside, where they sit me at the kitchen table. Brooke seems to consider Noah’s kitchen her territory; she sends him to get a washcloth while she fills a plastic bag with ice. The cloth is wrapped around the bag, and I am allowed to hide the hurt from them again as I press it to my face.
Jamie makes me get up so that he can sit in the chair and pull me into his lap.
“I’m fine,” I say again.
“Okay, okay, we believe you,” he says, and I’m relieved. He kisses me and cuddles me and I enjoy that. It’s starting to get dark out the window. The other boys go to bring the sleds inside and we talk about how horrible my bruise will be tomorrow, how long it will last, if it’s worth trying to cover it with makeup. I’m able to joke now, and they stop treating me as if I had just been handicapped. By the time Jamie and I leave to drop me off at home before everyone goes to the mall, my black eye has become a humorous story instead of cause for concern. Jamie wants me to tell everyone at school that he gave it to me to see their reactions. He thinks it will be funny.
“But you did give it to me,” I say. He pulls into the gravel driveway outside my house.
“I know. That’s the best part,” he says and grins. I scowl and start to roll my eyes, but the movement makes me wince. I remove my icepack to lean over and kiss him good-bye. He kisses me gently, just as he did in the kitchen in front of the others. “Sorry I hurt you, pretty girl,” Jamie says. He tweaks my nose. I smile and climb out of the car. I wave as he drives off. It’s dark now, and I can only see his headlights by the time he reaches the road.
The house glows warmly as I trudge across the snow toward the back door. There are voices inside, and I’m glad to have the visible bruises to explain my tardiness. I take the icepack from my face as I open the door.
“Oh there she—” My mother’s voice cries, and then I am again surrounded by faces, just as I had been in the other kitchen. Aunt Angelina, Finny, and my mother are the closest. My father and a stranger are behind them, looking over their shoulders. Mom takes my chin in her hand and tilts it upward. “Autumn,” her voice trills, “what happened?”
“We were sledding. Jamie hit me—” I say.
“What?” Finny says. He doesn’t shout it. He doesn’t need to. His narrowed eyes are enough to make me stumble over my words.
“—with his head when we hit a bump and fell out.”
“Are you okay?” Mom asks.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“But how do you know for sure?” she says. Finny suddenly pushes his way closer to me.
“Are you dizzy?” he asks. “Blurred vision? Seeing spots?” I shake my head to all. “Can you follow my finger?” He drags his index finger back and forth in front of my face. I tear my eyes from his to obey his request. He nods.
“Okay,” he says, “and you’re not confused? You know who everybody is?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Well, except for him.” I motion to the stranger over his shoulder. Aunt Angelina laughs.
“This is Kevin, my boyfriend,” she says. “Kevin, this is my apparently abused goddaughter.”
“Hi,” I say. “Nice to meet you. Now seriously, can you guys stop freaking out? It happened over an hour ago. I’m clearly not going to die of a concussion or something.” Finny turns on his heel and marches out of the room. I wonder if I’ve offended him.
“Let’s get you an ice pack,” my father says. I hold up my plastic bag for him to see.
“Got one,” I say. “See? Everything is fine. I’m fine.” After another few minutes of questions and speculation, the crowd backs off and moves back to the casual positions I assume they had been in before. My mother examines my eye, sighs, and then orders me to sit down and have some guacamole with everyone while she finishes dinner. The grown-ups begin their conversation again. My mouth is full when Finny walks back into the room, so at first I cannot say anything when I see what he is carrying. He opens the freezer door. I swallow.
“Finny, is that my sock?” It’s yellow with dancing monkeys on it—it couldn’t be anyone else’s, but I still have to ask.
“Yeah,” he says. His face is hidden from me behind the freezer door. I hear the sound of ice cubes rattling against each other as he scoops them out.
“I already have ice,” I say.
“I know,” Finny says. “I saw. I’m making you a better one.”
“So, Finny,” Kevin says before I can protest. He’s leaning against the counter across the room looking at him. “How’d you know all the questions you asked Autumn?” I am guessing that he is glad to have something to talk to Finny about; he sounds pleased with himself.
“Soccer,” he says. He closes the freezer door and crosses the room to open the drawer next to Kevin. “Whenever a guy hits his head, Coach has to check for signs of a concussion.”
“Oh,” Kevin says. “I never knew soccer was a violent sport. I was a football man myself. Soccer looks tame to me.” I know that he’s hit on a sore spot for Finny, but it does not show on his face. He lets the faux pas pass and stretches my sock over the ice pack.
“It’s where I learned this too,” he says. He leans across the table and hands me the cold bundle. “That should be more comfortable,” he says to me. I gingerly hold it up to my face. He’s right—the rounded tip is far more ergonomic and holds the cold only against the places I need it. The soft sock is nice too.
“Thanks,” I say.
“You only want to leave that on for twenty minutes at a time,” he says. “Then give your skin a break for half an hour. You don’t want to damage the tissue.”
Aunt Angelina laughs.
“You sound like a doctor, Finn,” she says. “Maybe you have found your calling.”
I’m surprised when Finny shrugs. The last time Finny and I talked about careers, we were twelve and he wanted to be a professional soccer player. He’s good, but I suppose he must be considering something else by now. I’m still holding on to my black turtleneck and coffee shop vision from fourth grade. Of course, Jamie doesn’t want to move to New York, and he wants me to figure out a day job besides writing.
***
Dinner goes well enough. I don’t like Kevin as much as Craig, me and Finny’s favorite boyfriend from childhood, but he doesn’t give me a particular reason to dislike him either. I wonder what Finny thinks, but it’s impossible to tell—he’s always polite.
For the most part, the four adults talk and Finny and I listen. Kevin has messed up our normal seating arrangement, so Finny and I are sitting side by side. It’s been so long since we have eaten next to each other that we have forgotten I have to sit on his left; I’m left-handed and our elbows constantly knock into each other. It’s embarrassing and I try to ignore it, but I like feeling him so close.
After dinner, my father brings out the port, and Finny and I are excused to go watch TV. They are laughing behind us as we leave the dining room. Everyone else seems certain to like Kevin.
Finny and I settle on a sitcom and watch it in silence. Before, we would have been deciding why we hated Kevin. We disliked the boyfriends as a general rule; Craig was the only exception.
After an hour, I go into the kitchen to refill my sock with ice. As I’m filling it, I have a nagging feeling that there was something in my sock drawer that I wouldn’t want Finny to see. It’s odd knowing that he still feels comfortable enough to go into my room and take something of mine, but then I think I would do the same for him if he were hurt.
Finny looks over at me when I come back into the room.
“So, did it hurt?” he asks. I sit down next to him with four feet of space between us. I ignore the urge to sit closer. This is how Finny and I always sit now.
“Yeah,” I say. “A lot.”