Almost Perfect (33 page)

“Logan Witherspoon.” I took to the stage, and Bloch handed me one of the last diplomas. From the stands, Mom, Laura, my grandpa, and my uncle cheered. Tonight, before the Boyer graduation party, they’d take me out to dinner. I’d get a few hundred bucks in gifts. This summer would be the last time I would really live in the trailer. I’d come back to Boyer to visit and for vacations, but it wouldn’t be my home. I really didn’t have a home anymore.

The last student filed past the principal. Mrs. Day shuffled her notes.

“One Boyer student could not be with us today. Sage Hendricks.”

A loud cheer in a tiny voice floated above the polite applause. I turned to see Tammi, sitting in the highest bleacher, cheering for the sister she no longer had. Her parents were not with her.

Sage
. So she’d graduated. She’d only managed to spend four and a half months at Boyer. Less than half a year. But Christ, the mark she made.

I was aware that people were cheering, that I was being struck by falling graduation caps. As the grads got up to meet their families, I just sort of sat there, remembering. Her husky laugh. The way she’d shove me all the time. Her crazy clothes. Her soft hands and warm tongue. How, for one wonderful night, she’d been mine. No matter what she did with her life, no matter where she ended up, I was the first (and possibly only) guy who’d kissed her. She’d always remember that.

I just wish we could have shared some more memories. I just wish we could have said goodbye.

“Logan?” Mom was standing next to me. “Are you ready to go?”

I glanced back at the bleachers, but Tammi was gone. I stood.

“Let’s do it,” I said. “I’m starved.”

Seniors in Columbia take an end-of-the-year trip to Chicago. Seniors in Moberly get a weekend in St. Louis. Seniors in Boyer are rewarded with a night locked in the gymnasium at Boyer Baptist Church, a deli tray from IGA, and the church’s stereo system belching out preapproved music. Party on.

I stood in a corner drinking an overly syrupy fountain soda and watching my classmates mill around. Some were playing the carnival games set up by the PTA. Others stood clustered in groups talking to their friends. No one was dancing. Thirteen years of school with these people, and this was our last night together.

The booster club had taped our yearbook photos to a
large sheet of construction paper. We’d all written where we were headed the next year. There were few surprises. State and community colleges, the marines, the police academy, one adventurous fellow headed for California. Just four graduates planned to stay in Boyer. Only Sage’s picture had no caption.

This was truly the end of the life I knew. Everyone but my mom was leaving town. Laura and I would only come back here to visit her.

“Hey, you.”

I smiled and turned to the familiar voice. “Hi, Brenda.”

My ex stood there looking regal and shy as always. She wasn’t wearing her glasses. She must have finally gotten the contacts she always talked about.

Brenda glanced over at the poster. “Still going to Mizzou? I think you’ll have fun there. It’s a great school.”

I shrugged. “And you?”

“Washington U.”

I nodded. We stood there looking at the hardwood floor for a moment. She eventually broke the silence.

“Hey, let me give you my e-mail address.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper. “You can tell me what you’re up to.”

My Boyer School District address had already been canceled. By the time I got around to getting a new one, I’d have already lost Brenda’s. But it was a nice gesture.

“I’ll do that.” We both shifted from foot to foot. This was probably the last time we’d speak. Did we really have nothing left to say? “Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Bye, Logan.”

We didn’t walk away, and within two seconds we were hugging.

“You take care of yourself, Brenda.” I meant it, too.

“I’ll miss you, Logan.”

We squeezed each other tight, then walked off in opposite directions. I was glad we could end things like that. Although, I kind of wish we’d said goodbye at the end of the evening; now we had to avoid each other for the rest of the night.

I found Tim and Jack at the free-throw booth shooting hoops for cheap prizes.

When Jack saw me, he shouted, “Seniors! We’re out of here!”

He was as loud as always, but there was something forced in his yelling. For four years, we’d bitched about high school. Now it was over. Forever.

The three of us walked away from the booth and leaned against a blank wall. No one spoke for a while.

“So when do you guys go off to Columbia?” asked Tim eventually.

“Late August. When do you leave?”

“Same.” By a happy coincidence, both Tim and Dawn were going to Truman State up in Kirksville. Jack and I joked about how much money we’d spend on gas visiting each other. But the more I thought about this, the more I had my doubts. The three of us would have new friends, new jobs, new lives. We’d probably only get to see Tim once or twice a month.

And what about after college? None of us had the desire to return to Boyer. Laura had already given up on
the town, and I was probably next. We’d all come back here for holidays until our parents moved or we got married and they came to visit us. My friendships with Tim and Jack would turn into Christmas cards and an occasional summer camping trip. A sad ending for guys who’d spent the past decade plus together.

Luckily, Dawn interrupted our melancholy thoughts by coming up and kissing Tim. As a non-Boyer student, she was absolutely not supposed to be at this party, but no one stopped her.

“Logan,” said Dawn, “I just heard what happened to Sage.”

My armpits grew cold. “To Sage?”

“That car wreck. Tim told me she injured her back. I’m surprised it wasn’t in the papers.”

I bit my lip, acting sad over news that was much less depressing than the truth. “It happened when she was visiting friends in Joplin.”

“Poor girl! I wish I’d known about this sooner.” She paused to glare at Tim, who hadn’t kept her in the loop. “She must be bored. When would be a good time for me to visit? I could bring her some DVDs, or read to her.”

“She’s, uh, not taking visitors right now. But thanks for offering. I’ll tell her you said hello.”

“But she must be lonely,” insisted Dawn. “Couldn’t I just stop by her house and drop off—”

“Dawn,” Tim interrupted, “let’s go play bingo.”

I watched them go, hand in hand. I really liked Dawn. She was sweet and was a good influence on Tim. For once, he was at a party and wasn’t making love to the buffet table.

“Hey, Logan,” said Jack, looking unusually serious. “You never did tell us what was going on with you and Sage.”

“It’s complicated.”

Jack made a clucking sound with his tongue. “You know, Logan …” He didn’t finish his thought; he just kind of randomly waved his hand. I’d known him long enough to translate the words guys never actually say to each other sober:

You know, Logan, I’m your friend, and if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. I want to help
.

“Thanks, man.” We smacked fists and he left me alone.

I watched my few dozen former classmates eating popcorn, playing games, and acting like nothing had changed. But this was really it.

It was sad, but not depressing. It was time for us to move on. I’d be ready, if not for one enormous regret.

My regret was six feet tall, beautiful, and out of my life forever. And until I could say goodbye to her, until I could go to bed knowing that she was safe and happy, then I couldn’t get on with my life.

How did I end up loving a person I’d driven away and would never see again?

G
RAHAM
H
ALL WAS BUILT
just after the Second World War. The tiny dorm room I’d be sharing with Jack consisted of a bunk bed, two desks, two closets, and one electrical outlet. According to Laura, some sociology students had proven that the average convict in a Missouri prison had more floor space than the average Mizzou student.

Mom hadn’t been able to drive me to campus; as usual, she was working. I was happy to learn, however, that she’d requested fewer hours. With only herself living in the trailer now, expenses were down. She’d even talked about applying for a management job at the Moberly Wal-Mart, but I doubted she really would. She liked her routine too much.

I was folding clothes and hanging up posters. Jack sat on the top bunk kicking his feet. His bags still lay in a sloppy pile in the middle of the floor.

“Are you through, already? We’ve been here for, like, twenty hours and haven’t met any girls.” He jumped down
from the bed and began to pace. I wondered if agreeing to live with the human Super Ball had been such a bright idea.

“Laura said she’d come by later.”

I stopped to adjust the sputtering window AC. Through the upper pane, I had a narrow view of campus. I could easily see the University Hospital grounds. A dozen or so smokers in scrubs lingered not too far from my dorm. Orderlies and nurses, forced into exile by the hospital’s strict tobacco-free policy.

It had been over five months since Tammi and I had driven Sage there to get her nose fixed and her ribs taped. That was the second-to-last time I’d seen her.

Jack was leaning over my shoulder. “C’mon, quit daydreaming. Let’s go do something.”

“You go ahead. I’ll wait for Laura.”

Jack took off, not even closing the door behind him. I lay on my bed for about twenty minutes after he left. I’d lied about Laura; she didn’t get off from work for another couple of hours. Eventually, I stood, went to my desk, and pulled out an envelope.

I’d found it in our mailbox about a week ago. The postman hadn’t delivered it; someone had placed it there. Even before I opened it and saw the familiar pink butterfly stationery, I knew it was from Sage.

Sitting down on my new chair, I reread the letter.

I reread the letter, then folded it and stuck it in my empty desk. I stared into space for what seemed like hours, thinking about what to do next.

I could track Sage down. Rob would know where Tammi had moved to. A guy like that wouldn’t be a hard egg to crack. And then what? Show up at her new house one day, after she asked me not to? And tell her … what? To move back to Missouri? That was terrible advice in any circumstance. Tell her I still cared about her? Thanks to my mental hospital breakdown, she already knew that.

Alone in my dorm room, I suddenly felt trapped. So I decided to go outside and get some air. I hoped that would clear my head.

I locked up and cut across the small grassy area between Graham Hall and the parking lot. I sat on a concrete bench and wished that I was a smoker. This was my first day of college, and all I could think about was the woman who had made me angrier and happier than anyone else. If
I allowed myself to forget Sage, then I’d be no better than my father, bailing when things got rough. But if I sat around and waited for her to come back, it would be Brenda all over again.