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Every You, Every Me

Page 12

   


“Okay.”
“And, Evan, if you ever want to talk … I don’t always have to push my way into it.”
It was a joke, but there was an unintentional echo in the joke:
Hadn’t she pretty much told you the same thing?
16
Why wasn’t Jack talking to me? I looked for him during school, then after school, but I didn’t see him.
I went home and did my homework. I remembered how I used to define these times by the fact that I wasn’t with you—you were out with Jack, or doing something else. It didn’t even matter what it was, only that it wasn’t with me. And when we were together, I was at home in the universe.
Or was that just the way it seemed now?
I wondered if I should get help. I wondered if this was how you felt. I wondered if I was just trying to make myself feel what you felt. I wondered if you were somehow rewiring my mind.
No. I wasn’t wondering if you were somehow rewiring my mind. That was the kind of thing you would have said.
Zeros and ones. I willed my mind back to zeros and ones.
16A
At ten, Katie emailed. She hadn’t been able to talk to Mr. Rogers. She promised she’d try tomorrow.
16B
At eleven, Jack still hadn’t emailed or anything.
16C
At midnight—precisely at midnight—I received a new email.
It was from someone calling herself avengingariel.
you won’t get away with it.
I will haunt you forever.
There was an attachment. When I opened it, you filled the screen.
16D
Every You, Every Me
16E
You were looking right at me.
I broke.
Ariel, what did I do to you? What do you think I did to you? I always thought you were the strong one. I thought you could take anything. When you talked about the Truth, I thought you knew something that I didn’t. I was just following. I didn’t realize how bad it was. And then, when I saw how bad it was, I did the only thing I could do. You wanted help, didn’t you? But in a moment, you went from being grateful to being so angry. And that anger is what I’m left with. Because it makes me doubt, Ariel. It makes me doubt everything. And I wish you were here, because you’re the only one who can tell me what to do. Are you sending these photographs? Is this from you? Because I’m starting to understand. Really, I am. How maddening the Truth must have been. To think it’s out there, and to know you can’t get to it. We only see representations, not the real Truth. Was that what was wrong? Did that take over who you were? Ariel, you have to stop this. Ariel, I can’t take this. Ariel, all I ever did was love you. And if it didn’t work, I’m sorry. It was all I could do. You left me with no choice. YOU LEFT ME WITH NO CHOICE. Does that make sense to you, Ariel? Can you make sense anymore? Is sense any different from the Truth? I know it is. I know it is. You would tell me how unhappy you were, but I thought you meant at that moment. I didn’t realize how it fills you. Did it fill you, Ariel? Or is happiness another of the fake words? Ariel, I’m trying to understand. Ariel, you won’t go away. I couldn’t want you to go away even if it meant surviving. No. I want you to go away. I want this to stop. I miss you so much. Ariel, I know you can’t hear this. Are you listening?
I pressed my head into my pillow and I screamed. Pure sound. No words. But it all came out as your name to me.
My mother came running into my room.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Then, again, “Evan? What’s wrong?”
She saw the photo on my computer.
“Oh, Evan,” she said. “Please.”
She tried. Everyone tried with me. And every time, it felt like the whole point of life was to see if trying was ever enough.
17
At five in the morning, there was another email from avengingariel. I wasn’t awake then, but I got it when I checked before school.
you were never worthy of her.
she knew so much more than you did.
so you had to destroy her.
you think you saved her. but you destroyed her.
17A
Every You, Every Me
17B
I gave up almost immediately. It was a field. With some trees. Maybe a building. I zoomed in, but it all blurred. And part of me didn’t even care. It all seemed pointless. Pointless … without point … round … full circle.
I packed up to go to school.
I forwarded the email to Jack before I went.
17C
Katie found me before homeroom and pulled me into an empty classroom to talk.
“Mr. Rogers is out today,” she said. “I couldn’t stand it, so I … well, I went through his desk. I didn’t find the list, though. He must keep it with him, or at home or something. I even tried looking on his computer. I’m so glad I wasn’t caught.”
There was a thrill in Katie’s voice as she told me all this. It reminded me a little of you. Or of me when I was around you.
“I guess we’ll have to wait until Monday,” Katie said.
I couldn’t imagine waiting that long.
17D
I thought I saw her in the hallway.
It was between classes. Crowded.
But I tried. I pushed
through the conversations
pushed
past the bystanders
pushed
even though some people pushed back, told me to watch it.
She was ahead of me. I swore it.
But I was losing sight of her.
Instead I saw Mrs. McGuinness coming out of the guidance office.
“It wasn’t your fault, Evan! You did the right thing!”
Mrs. McGuinness, noticing me.
“She was sick! If she’d been bleeding on the street, you would’ve run to get help. It’s the same thing!”
Mrs. McGuinness, realizing it had been a while since one of our chats.
“I’m here for you, Evan! We’re all here for you!”
I had to stop pushing. I had to turn around. I couldn’t let her talk to me.
17E
You hated her so much.
“They’re so far from the Truth,” you’d say. “Guidance? Is that what they call it. Guidance toward what? Interesting how they never specify that.”
“If she’d been bleeding on the street, you would’ve run to get help. It’s the same thing!”
“Typical,” I could hear you saying back. “The whole point is that I wasn’t bleeding in the street. I wasn’t dying of cancer. You couldn’t take an X-ray and see what was wrong with me. You couldn’t make such an easy diagnosis. You had to guess. And everybody guessed wrong.”
But the thing is, I hadn’t even made the guess. I trusted that you knew what you were doing.
You were very convincing.
And I destroyed you.
17F
I hadn’t even gotten my lunch before Jack pulled me away from it.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said, gesturing me out of the lunch line.
“Am I in trouble? What’s going on?” I asked.
But he waited until we were out back. I thought we’d stay on the patio, but we walked even farther away, beyond all the sound waves from the school.
“I got your email this morning,” he said. He didn’t look too happy about it. “I can’t believe this girl, whoever she is, would do that to you. Is this the first time she’s emailed?”
I shook my head. “There was one other. A picture of Ariel.”
Jack went for a cigarette from his pocket, but came up short.
“Left them in my locker.” He looked at me. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t have one.”
“You are correct,” I said.
“You are correct.” That was something you used to say, and we both knew it. I had gotten that from you.
“Look,” he went on, “I talked to Miranda about this. Last night, even before I got your email. I didn’t tell her everything—she doesn’t need to know everything about Ariel and what happened. But I told her about the photos. And you know what she said? She said, ‘That girl is stalking you and Evan. It’s stalking.’ I guess I knew that, but having her say it made me realize how wrong it was. And you know what? We’ve only been encouraging her by playing along. I know I told you this last time, but now I really mean it—we have to walk away. Or, if you don’t want to think of it as walking away, we have to make her a little scared. Even if you know where the field is in that picture, don’t go there. Stay away. I doubt that will be the last we’ll hear from her. But we’ll get to see what she does when we don’t play along.”
I knew it wasn’t the point, but I said, “You told Miranda?”
We’d reached the bleachers for the football field. There were a couple of people running on the track, but otherwise it was empty. Jack walked up to the top row and sat down. I followed.
Every you, every me. I wondered if Jack was a different Jack with Miranda. I wondered if we all just kept changing, or splitting off. I wondered if I didn’t meet anyone new, if I didn’t talk to anyone else, would I stay the same me?
“What are you thinking, Evan?”
So I told him.
Every you, every me. Fractals. Fractures.
“I wonder who she is now,” I said.
“So do I,” Jack admitted. “All the time.”
18
I promised Jack I wouldn’t find the field from the photo. I promised him I wouldn’t go there. I promised him to give the photographer nothing but silence.
And this time, I actually kept my promise.
18A
I was talking to you more and more. Remembering times that weren’t complicated. Asking you how you were. Begging for forgiveness, if only so you’d say it wasn’t necessary.
You never said anything back.
18B
Do you really think you can ignore me?
if so, then you don’t know me.
the same way you don’t know her.
you think she was weak, but I know she was brave.
I understood. you didn’t.
I still understand. you don’t.
Every You, Every Me
18C
Avengingariel must have gone to the field. She must have waited.
I wondered if this photo was from the same field, only from a different angle. Clearer. With a better landmark.
I wondered if avenging was being used as an adjective or a verb.
I forwarded the email to Jack, this time with a message:
I’m not going.
He sent an email back:
Good.
18D
My parents wanted to take a drive on Saturday. I said okay.
My mother said I should have a “change of scenery.” The word scenery made me think of a play. And as we were driving around, it made sense that way. Because no matter how much the scenery changed, we were still on the same stage.
Your life is inescapable. Unless you decide to escape it.
My parents asked about school. About friends. About colleges. About what I was reading. And as I sat there, I felt again like you. Your parents must have asked you the same questions. They must have tried the same way. Knowing there was a problem, but thinking it would be a bigger problem if they brought it up. So instead they tried to muffle it with ordinary things. They saw the scenery, not the stage.
“So it’s all come full circle,” you said.
“Would you like that?” my mother asked.
“What?” I said.
“To go rafting over the summer. To go away.”
“Let’s talk about the summer like it’s sure to exist,” you whispered in my ear. This wasn’t a memory. You were whispering it now. “But you and I know better, don’t we? How about we do away with the summer?”
“That sounds great,” I said.
18E
I imagined the photographer in that field. Waiting for me.
I knew it was right to avoid her. I knew we had to pretend like we were ignoring her, like she wasn’t having any effect.