She takes a step nearer. “Your accident happened on graduation day — that’s why you missed the commencement ceremony. True or false?”
“True.”
She nods. She already knew these answers. Deep down, beneath the lies, some part of her has probably always known.
“You can’t play baseball anymore,” she whispers finally, a long unspoken secret. “True or false?”
“True.” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s all true.”
Her eyes follow the movement of my hand, tracing the scars spiderwebbed across the surface. Memorizing the damage. They never shift away as she mutters a single word.
“Why?”
“Why what, Jo?”
“Why lie?” She practically spits the word at me. Taking two steps forward, she plants both hands on my shoulders and shoves me backward. I nearly trip over a dock line and sail straight into the water, only managing to right myself at the last moment. “Why keep all of this from me?” She keeps coming, shoving me again. I backpedal down the dock, aware I’m rapidly running out of footing. “Why hide the truth?”
“What was I supposed to do, Jo? Call you up and say, ‘Hey, I know you’re heading off to start your life in Switzerland but, by the way, I’m in the hospital with a broken hand, and my whole future is fucked?”
“Yes!” She screams the word so loud, three black cormorants burst into flight from a nearby rock. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do!”
“How could I do that?”
“How could you not?”
“I’m sorry, okay?” I roar at her. “I fucked up. But you don’t know what it was like, that day—”
“How could I, when you hid it from me?!”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not defending myself. I’m just saying, it’s not as clear cut as you’re making it sound. If you’d been there—”
“I would’ve been there if you’d let me!”
“I know that!” I yell back. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“I have no idea what you know or don’t know! I’m pretty certain your brain stopped working sometime last spring when you started screwing cheerleaders—” That earns me another shove; I rock backward on my heels, absorbing the blow. “—and pushing away your best friend!”
“Would you stop screaming for a second and hear me out?”
“No!” She pushes me again. I’m nearly out of dock. One more shove, and I’ll be sent sprawling into the ocean. Her anger has reached a boiling point. Nothing I say will calm her, in this moment. My words are falling on deaf ears.
Threading her hands up into her hair, she casts her eyes heavenward. “God! What the fuck, Archer? What the actual fuck? This is un-fucking-believable!” She’s swearing. She never swears. She’s looking at me like I’ve ruined her life, which sends guilt spiraling through me.
I was wrong to come here.
Wrong to listen to Tommy.
Wrong to hope this could ever be mended.
I should’ve just let her hate me for the rest of my life.
Her head shakes back and forth. “I don’t understand you! One day, you’re saving my life, the next you’re telling me to scram. Now, you show up here unannounced—”
“I didn’t come here to upset you.”
“Then why did you come?”
“To apologize.”
“To a girl you claim you can’t stand? Shouldn’t you be happy I’m feeling like this?” Her hands fly out in a sarcasm-laced display of jazz fingers. “Surprise! I’m miserable! Mission accomplished!”
“I don’t want you miserable.” My voice is so low, she has to lean in to catch my words. “I never wanted that, Jo. I only ever wanted to protect you. And somehow, it all got screwed up. Somehow, all I’ve managed to do is hurt you.” I glance down at my sneakers. “I’ll go, okay? I’ll leave. And you can just… pretend I was never here.”
When she shoves me, I don’t see it coming. I go head over feet off the edge of the dock, straight into the cove, with a splash that rattles the wind from my lungs.
I surface, spluttering for air.
My eyes sting with salt, searching for her.
She’s already gone.
I’m winded by the time I manage to haul my waterlogged body back up onto the dock. Not to mention drenched to the bone. Thankfully the fading afternoon sun is still warm. I set my soaked sneakers on the rail of the lobster boat and squeeze the worst of the water from my jeans, then peel my t-shirt up over my head. I’m wringing it out as best I can manage when I hear the sound of approaching footsteps.
My head swings around. To my surprise, Jo is standing there holding a towel from the boathouse. She extends it toward me, a peace offering.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you in,” she says, by way of apology. “That was petty of me.”
“I’ll dry.”
For a moment, we’re both quiet. I sponge droplets from my stomach and arms, then put the towel over my hair and shake like a wet dog. When I’m decently dry, I look for Jo and find her sitting on the edge of the dock, staring out at the cove. All traces of her anger have vanished on the wind, but I move with extra caution anyway as I drop down beside her.
It’s a position we’ve sat in a million times before — side by side, four feet in the water, two backs to the world. But there’s nothing familiar about this new tension between us. We are in uncharted waters, a million miles offshore, with no lighthouses or stars to guide us back home. I have no idea what to say. Where to start. Perhaps she doesn’t either, because the silence drags on for a long time.
Finally, she clears her throat and speaks, still not looking at me. “These past few days… since I came back home, since I saw you again… I’ve felt like I’m losing my mind. Truly, like I’m going mad. Ever since you came back into my life, everything I thought I knew, every shred of closure I’ve spent a year chasing… it’s all just fallen to pieces. I can’t sleep at night, because the memories…” She sucks in a pained breath. “I forget to eat, I’m so caught up in my thoughts. And now you’re sitting here, right next to me, so close and so far, and I can’t even breathe properly—”
“Jo. Look at me.”
She does. Her eyes are full of tears. I’m pretty certain mine are too, since they’re stinging like hell. I could blame the salt water, but I’d be lying to myself.
“I begged you,” she whispers so gently, it’s a knife to my gut. “At your apartment. With the pie. I actually begged you. I was so desperate for a single grain of truth in all the lies… so tangled up, trying to get answers… and you made me think I was insane. You sent me away like… like… some piece of garbage you didn’t want anymore.”
“What do you want me to say? That I’m a bastard?” My voice shakes. “I’m a bastard. That I screwed up? I screwed up. That I’m sorry? I’m sorry.” Without thinking, I take her by the shoulders. Callused hands on silk skin. The moment we touch, we both flinch. Like an electric shock has jumped through us both. Her mouth parts, a small gasp sliding from her lips. My words are shooting sparks. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jo. I’ll never be able to put it into words. I’ll never be able to explain—”