What If It's Us
Page 53
Not all of us, but I say “Right” anyway.
“Yeah,” Hudson says. I hope he means it.
“So let’s be friends again,” Harriett says. I wonder if she misses Dylan at all. “What are you going to do about Arthur? Reach out? Move on? Let us know where you stand so we can support you.”
“I wish Arthur would give me a chance to explain . . . I know it’s kind of pointless because he’s leaving, but I don’t want him leaving like this. And Dylan . . .” I turn to Harriett, who gestures for me to go on. “I stepped out of line. But I also told the truth. I just think everything would be simpler if I could have my boyfriend and all my friends and not feel like people always have to choose one or the other.”
I shut down right there because we’ve been here before, after Dylan broke up with Harriett. Being Harriett’s friend was weird for Dylan, and me trying to be Hudson’s friend was weird for Arthur. But maybe this isn’t how life works. Maybe it’s all about people coming into your life for a little while and you take what they give you and use it on your next friendship or relationship. And if you’re lucky, maybe some people pop back in after you thought they were gone for good. Like Hudson and Harriett.
And maybe this is the do-over I needed all along.
Chapter Thirty-One
Arthur
Friday, August 3
Just me and you tomorrow, Obama.
Alone in Uncle Milton’s apartment, surrounded by horses, with only the Grubhub delivery guy for company. I may actually print a picture of Barack’s face and tape it to a Popsicle stick, because even if I’m single with no friends or parents in sight, at least I can spend the day partying with my president. And I bet you think I’m kidding, but guess who overcame “sickness” and showed up at work just to use the color printer.
“Arthur, you’re depressing me,” says Namrata.
“I . . . didn’t say anything.”
“I know. It’s freaking me out.”
I shrug and turn back to the Bray-Eliopulos files, which are as numbingly boring as ever. Maybe I’m feeling masochistic. Or maybe I’ve unlocked the secret, and this is how people focus. All you have to do is have a cute boy rip your heart out, then let your best friends stomp all over it, and if it’s still beating even a little bit, finish the job yourself. Say the worst things and yell your voice raw and destroy everything you love until, lo and behold, the monotony of work is a relief. Because if you’re balls-deep in Bray-Eliopulos, at least you can’t think about your ex-boyfriend. Your un-soul-mate. The guy who bailed in the middle of Act Two.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Juliet turns to Namrata.
I look up. “What’s tomorrow?”
“David’s roommates are having a goodbye party,” says Namrata.
“The dinosaurotica guys? Jurassion Passion?”
“Yeah, and I can’t fucking wait. I’m shedding no tears over that departure.” Namrata leans back in her chair. “Jules, we’re heading up there together, right?”
“Up where?” I ask.
“Upper West Side. David goes to Columbia.”
“Oh, that’s near me.” Neither of them speak. “So. Party, huh?”
Juliet nods. “It’s pretty small, though, right?”
“Yeah, just in their apartment,” Namrata says.
“Sounds fun,” I say slowly, and then I press my lips together, because it’s not like I’m about to sit here begging for an invite to a random party on my own birthday. God. Even I’m not that uncool.
Wait, I AM that uncool.
“Maybe I could stop by?” I ask casually.
Juliet and Namrata glance at each other.
“Or . . . not.”
“Arthur, look, it’s not personal,” Juliet says. “There’s going to be booze there.”
“I’m comfortable with that.”
“Well I’m not.”
“You’re not comfortable with booze?”
“I’m not comfortable with rolling into a boozy party with my boss’s underage son.”
“Ha.” I grin. “I hear you. I wouldn’t actually drink. But my parents have a liquor cabinet, so I could make something! Like a candy corn martini—”
“No, like, Namrata and I could legit get fired for that.”
“Yeah, not happening,” Namrata says.
“Even on my birthday?”
And there it is. My Hail Mary.
Namrata softens. “It’s your birthday?”
“Tomorrow is.”
“Oh, Arthur.” Juliet bites her lip. “We can’t bring you to this, though. You get that, right?”
“Yeah, I . . . never mind.”
“But seriously, you don’t want to hang out with the dinosaur guys anyway. You should do something fun with Ben.”
And wow. Now I’m about to start crying at the conference table. I just stare at my hands, blinking. Fantastic.
“Okay, that’s not the reaction I was expecting,” Juliet says carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Juliet and Namrata exchange glances again.
But I don’t care. Let them feel bad. I have no shits left to give. Dad’s in Atlanta, Mom’s halfway to Canandaigua, Ethan and Jessie are probably making out behind Starbucks, and my only two friends in this whole stupid city are spending my birthday at a party in my neighborhood without me.
My seventeenth birthday. Maybe on some planets, that’s the kind of thing people look forward to. But all I can think about is Hudson and Ben passing love notes in class. Ben’s Instagram, with its fifty-six versions of Hudson’s face. Hudson’s name on a shipping label for a box that was never sent.
I think about the giant gaping hole in my heart, exactly the size of Ben’s fist.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ben
Saturday, August 4
I’m at this low-key coffee shop with Hudson since our exam is on Tuesday and I really need a solid study session to handle my weak spots. A couple times I thought I saw Dylan waltzing in, but it wasn’t him. That’s for the best. I’m not sure Harriett running off an hour ago to celebrate a friend’s birthday and leaving me alone with Hudson was for the best, though. I mean. We were fine that night after my showdown with Dylan. But it’s just us again for the first time.
We’re sitting side by side on stools. We’ve been quizzing each other, but the only answers I care about are all Arthur-related: How is he celebrating his birthday? Who’s making him feel like a king? Namrata and Juliet? Will texting him a happy birthday ruin his day? Does he hate me?
“Earth to Ben,” Hudson says, waving.
“Sorry.”
“Arthur?”
“Yup. Hard to focus.” Hudson and Harriett don’t know it’s Arthur’s birthday. I just jumped into study group so I wouldn’t stay home and play Sims. Last night my Sim counterpart gave flowers to Sim Arthur and got rejected because fuck my lives, real and digital. It’s become really obvious that no one can hurt you if they can’t talk to you, so I just locked Sim Ben in a room with no doors or windows. He’ll run out of oxygen eventually, but at least no one is breaking his heart. “Today is Arthur’s birthday.”
“Did you make him something?” Hudson asks. “You’re a birthday pro.” For Hudson’s birthday I teamed up with Dylan to draw Hudson in Wonder Woman’s armor since she’s his favorite superhero. I wonder if he threw that out or not.
“Yeah,” Hudson says. I hope he means it.
“So let’s be friends again,” Harriett says. I wonder if she misses Dylan at all. “What are you going to do about Arthur? Reach out? Move on? Let us know where you stand so we can support you.”
“I wish Arthur would give me a chance to explain . . . I know it’s kind of pointless because he’s leaving, but I don’t want him leaving like this. And Dylan . . .” I turn to Harriett, who gestures for me to go on. “I stepped out of line. But I also told the truth. I just think everything would be simpler if I could have my boyfriend and all my friends and not feel like people always have to choose one or the other.”
I shut down right there because we’ve been here before, after Dylan broke up with Harriett. Being Harriett’s friend was weird for Dylan, and me trying to be Hudson’s friend was weird for Arthur. But maybe this isn’t how life works. Maybe it’s all about people coming into your life for a little while and you take what they give you and use it on your next friendship or relationship. And if you’re lucky, maybe some people pop back in after you thought they were gone for good. Like Hudson and Harriett.
And maybe this is the do-over I needed all along.
Chapter Thirty-One
Arthur
Friday, August 3
Just me and you tomorrow, Obama.
Alone in Uncle Milton’s apartment, surrounded by horses, with only the Grubhub delivery guy for company. I may actually print a picture of Barack’s face and tape it to a Popsicle stick, because even if I’m single with no friends or parents in sight, at least I can spend the day partying with my president. And I bet you think I’m kidding, but guess who overcame “sickness” and showed up at work just to use the color printer.
“Arthur, you’re depressing me,” says Namrata.
“I . . . didn’t say anything.”
“I know. It’s freaking me out.”
I shrug and turn back to the Bray-Eliopulos files, which are as numbingly boring as ever. Maybe I’m feeling masochistic. Or maybe I’ve unlocked the secret, and this is how people focus. All you have to do is have a cute boy rip your heart out, then let your best friends stomp all over it, and if it’s still beating even a little bit, finish the job yourself. Say the worst things and yell your voice raw and destroy everything you love until, lo and behold, the monotony of work is a relief. Because if you’re balls-deep in Bray-Eliopulos, at least you can’t think about your ex-boyfriend. Your un-soul-mate. The guy who bailed in the middle of Act Two.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Juliet turns to Namrata.
I look up. “What’s tomorrow?”
“David’s roommates are having a goodbye party,” says Namrata.
“The dinosaurotica guys? Jurassion Passion?”
“Yeah, and I can’t fucking wait. I’m shedding no tears over that departure.” Namrata leans back in her chair. “Jules, we’re heading up there together, right?”
“Up where?” I ask.
“Upper West Side. David goes to Columbia.”
“Oh, that’s near me.” Neither of them speak. “So. Party, huh?”
Juliet nods. “It’s pretty small, though, right?”
“Yeah, just in their apartment,” Namrata says.
“Sounds fun,” I say slowly, and then I press my lips together, because it’s not like I’m about to sit here begging for an invite to a random party on my own birthday. God. Even I’m not that uncool.
Wait, I AM that uncool.
“Maybe I could stop by?” I ask casually.
Juliet and Namrata glance at each other.
“Or . . . not.”
“Arthur, look, it’s not personal,” Juliet says. “There’s going to be booze there.”
“I’m comfortable with that.”
“Well I’m not.”
“You’re not comfortable with booze?”
“I’m not comfortable with rolling into a boozy party with my boss’s underage son.”
“Ha.” I grin. “I hear you. I wouldn’t actually drink. But my parents have a liquor cabinet, so I could make something! Like a candy corn martini—”
“No, like, Namrata and I could legit get fired for that.”
“Yeah, not happening,” Namrata says.
“Even on my birthday?”
And there it is. My Hail Mary.
Namrata softens. “It’s your birthday?”
“Tomorrow is.”
“Oh, Arthur.” Juliet bites her lip. “We can’t bring you to this, though. You get that, right?”
“Yeah, I . . . never mind.”
“But seriously, you don’t want to hang out with the dinosaur guys anyway. You should do something fun with Ben.”
And wow. Now I’m about to start crying at the conference table. I just stare at my hands, blinking. Fantastic.
“Okay, that’s not the reaction I was expecting,” Juliet says carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Juliet and Namrata exchange glances again.
But I don’t care. Let them feel bad. I have no shits left to give. Dad’s in Atlanta, Mom’s halfway to Canandaigua, Ethan and Jessie are probably making out behind Starbucks, and my only two friends in this whole stupid city are spending my birthday at a party in my neighborhood without me.
My seventeenth birthday. Maybe on some planets, that’s the kind of thing people look forward to. But all I can think about is Hudson and Ben passing love notes in class. Ben’s Instagram, with its fifty-six versions of Hudson’s face. Hudson’s name on a shipping label for a box that was never sent.
I think about the giant gaping hole in my heart, exactly the size of Ben’s fist.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ben
Saturday, August 4
I’m at this low-key coffee shop with Hudson since our exam is on Tuesday and I really need a solid study session to handle my weak spots. A couple times I thought I saw Dylan waltzing in, but it wasn’t him. That’s for the best. I’m not sure Harriett running off an hour ago to celebrate a friend’s birthday and leaving me alone with Hudson was for the best, though. I mean. We were fine that night after my showdown with Dylan. But it’s just us again for the first time.
We’re sitting side by side on stools. We’ve been quizzing each other, but the only answers I care about are all Arthur-related: How is he celebrating his birthday? Who’s making him feel like a king? Namrata and Juliet? Will texting him a happy birthday ruin his day? Does he hate me?
“Earth to Ben,” Hudson says, waving.
“Sorry.”
“Arthur?”
“Yup. Hard to focus.” Hudson and Harriett don’t know it’s Arthur’s birthday. I just jumped into study group so I wouldn’t stay home and play Sims. Last night my Sim counterpart gave flowers to Sim Arthur and got rejected because fuck my lives, real and digital. It’s become really obvious that no one can hurt you if they can’t talk to you, so I just locked Sim Ben in a room with no doors or windows. He’ll run out of oxygen eventually, but at least no one is breaking his heart. “Today is Arthur’s birthday.”
“Did you make him something?” Hudson asks. “You’re a birthday pro.” For Hudson’s birthday I teamed up with Dylan to draw Hudson in Wonder Woman’s armor since she’s his favorite superhero. I wonder if he threw that out or not.
