My mother’s mouth is still hanging open. “Why not? You can’t live with your father forever.”
“I won’t,” I say. “But you were right. I’m not the person you wanted me to be, and that’s fine, but that means that I can’t live with you anymore, not when that comes with so many stipulations.”
Her mouth finally closes, and I can see the resignation on her features when she realizes she’s lost. “Oh, Oli. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t the person I wanted you to be. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the person you are. I love who you are.”
I smile at her. “And I appreciate that. But it doesn’t change anything. I’m not going to college, and I’m not moving back in. I just missed you.”
She’s quiet for a long time and then she moves forward and wraps her arms around me. “Okay, Oli,” she says. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
I want to tell her that I have no idea what I want. I don’t really want anything anymore. I’m empty inside and when I look into my future, all I see is black.
She strokes my hair. “Come on. Let’s get some grub.”
OLIVER
BROOKE’S CAR IS parked in my driveway when I get home that evening. The sun is almost down, the light shining on her silver hatchback, and I’m surprised at how excited I am to see her. I’ve missed her a lot.
She’s not in her car, and when I unlock the front door, I find her in the living room, talking to Dad. The TV blares in the background, the Royals game, and when I shut the door behind me, Dad mutes the TV.
“Brooke, hey,” I say when she hops up off the couch. “Were we supposed to hang out today?”
She sighs. “No. Look, Oli, normally I would be totally opposed to this kind of thing, as, despite my previous actions, I don’t 100 percent believe in friends interfering in their friends’ shit, but I … I have something for you.”
Brooke is holding out a long white envelope to me, and when I reach out to take it, she says, “it’s from Amy,” and I almost drop it. “She’s been trying to get a hold of you,” she goes on. “But, you know, new cell and all.”
I feel the weight of my phone in my back pocket. It feels heavier somehow. Mom stopped paying my cell phone bill, and I had to get a new phone, a new number, everything.
“She even came here, but um…” Brooke trails off and when I look up, her eyes are on Dad. He looks guilty as fuck.
“Did she come here?” I ask him.
He can’t meet my eye. “She came a few nights ago. Wearing a fuckin’ ball gown like Cinderella or something.”
Prom. She must have been dressed for her prom. I can’t even imagine her here, all dressed up in that blue dress I saw her carrying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sighs and his head falls into his hands. “Oh, Oli. Don’t hate me.”
I don’t hate him but if he doesn’t start talking, I might kill him.
“Oli,” he says again, finally looking up at me. “I was drunk. I’m so sorry. You weren’t here, and I was lonely, and I just started drinking. By the time she came, I was halfway through a bottle of Jack. I was an asshole to her, completely and totally. I’m sorry.”
I can’t even look at him but now that I’m holding this letter in my hand, I realize it doesn’t matter. What my dad did or didn’t say doesn’t matter. Because he didn’t scare her away. She still wrote this letter. She still has something to say to me.
I tear my eyes away from the letter and look at my dad. “I want every fucking bottle of alcohol you have hidden in this place,” I tell him. And when he doesn’t move, I say, “Now.”
He scrambles off the couch, and I hear him rummaging in different parts of the house while I sit on the couch. My hands tremble, and even though it would probably be smarter to wait until Brooke is gone to open it, I tear at the envelope.
Dear Oliver,
I realize that you probably don’t want to hear what I have to say. And I get it. I fucked up. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t. But I want to apologize. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t good enough. I’m sorry for throwing away our friendship. And I’m sorry for not realizing sooner that I’m in love with you.
You’re not a distraction, Oliver. I need you to know that. I was getting in my own way and blaming it on you, and I’ll regret that forever. But I don’t blame you anymore. You were the one who kept me going when I didn’t even have faith in myself.
Do you remember when we talked about Plato’s Cave, that night in your truck? Well, I’m the people in the cave who are facing the wall. I’m the people who mistook the shadows of the objects for the real things. I’m the people who were terrified when reality was right in front of them. I thought what Jackson and I had was real. I thought that was love, but I didn’t know what the real thing looked like until I met you. No one has ever really seen me before, not the way you do. No one has ever accepted me just the way I was, and I’m sorry I tossed that aside like it didn’t mean anything. It meant everything.
Maybe what your father told me is right. Maybe true love doesn’t exist. But, Oli, I love you. And if you never want to speak to me again, I understand, but it’s not going to change anything. You’re still my best friend, and I’m still in love with you.
I miss you.
Amy
My hands are still shaking when there’s no letter left to read, and I can’t explain the pain in my chest. It’s want and also hurt and also confusion. When I open the envelope to put the letter back in, I see that there’s something else there. It’s my ticket to the Lumineers concert. After everything, I forgot all about it.
“What did she say?” Brooke whispers.
“That she loves me,” I say because it’s the easiest way to sum it all up.
Brooke nods, like this is obvious. “And what are you going to do?”
I set the envelope on the couch between us and stand, Brooke craning her neck to look up at me. “I’m not going to do anything.”
I’m actually surprised by the look on Brooke’s face. After I told her what happened between Amy and me, she was so angry, I thought she was going to kill Amy. But now here she is, with this look on her face like she can’t believe I just said that. “But, Oli—”
“There’s a reason I don’t spend much time with people,” I say, “and it’s not because I’m mean, and it’s not because I don’t like people, and it’s not because I’m a loner. It’s because people tear you apart. And I’ve been torn apart enough. I gave Amy everything I had, and there’s nothing left.”
Brooke’s eyebrows crease in. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I smile at her. “Don’t be. It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done. I’ve moved on, and she will, too. Because that’s real life.”
Just then, my father reappears. He slams five unopened bottles of liquor down on the coffee table. It’s all whiskey, and I’m so shocked that I don’t say anything for a full minute. “What the hell is all this, Dad?” I finally ask. “When did you get this?”