Until There Was You (26 page)

"Exactly. And that's why it’s a classic. We all walk around thinking that we are the only person in the world feeling isolated or different or frightened. But the truth is that everybody feels all of those things and reading about it makes us feel like we are part of a community. It feels good to know that you are exactly as crazy as everybody else—including those sheep that you were ragging on earlier. Being a smartass is fine, in fact it's great, but it doesn't mean that you have the right to bully people or be aggressive to your teachers. Making someone else feel crappy isn't going to make high school go any quicker," Nate said.

"It makes it less boring." Jake sounded unconvinced. Some of his bravado was back, but it didn't seem to fit him as well; his devil-may-care attitude seemed fake.

"Really? So you're just on a thrill ride at school at the moment? Every day is a party, huh? You've got everything all figured out?"

"Ugh. I dunno. I don't understand anything."

"Yeah, you do. And I have a good idea. I am going to tell you all the things I think you should know about life. You are going to ignore it all because that's the natural dynamic between students and guidance counselors, and then we are going to write together. You'll bring in something new each week. I'll bring in something new each week, and we'll mark each other's work. That way you can write down all of the snarky things that you think about your teachers and friends rather than saying them out loud. You'll get to be as mean-spirited as you want and I'll look like I'm the best guidance counselor in the world because you'll shut up and get down to your work. And then we won't need this." Nate picked up the yellow folder and made a show of locking it in the drawers behind his desk.

"So you've solved everything in ten minutes?" Jake asked jokingly.

"Yep… I'm a counseling genius, who knew? Don't you think that sounds better than us going around in conversational circles for weeks, me spouting things out of the government-mandated course books and you avoiding revealing anything meaningful about yourself?"

"I suppose. Plus I've seen some of your writing and
boy,
do you need some pointers."

"Cool."

"So what's the advice you think I should know? The advice that I'm gonna ignore in order to honor the sacred relationship between counselors and teenage rebels everywhere," Jake said, rolling his eyes but shifting his weight forward, a move that once again betrayed his air of studied indifference.

"Oh yeah. First of all, when you really, really want them to, things change. Also, things change when you really, really don't want them to. It's one of the only things that I can absolutely guarantee you. Just because you don't like right now, that doesn't mean you won't like what's going to happen a moment from now. The way I see it is that you have a duty to yourself to be able to be balanced even when everything is changing around you. It's exciting because it means that the bad moments of your life will change; high school and heartbreaks will end. But it's also scary because good things will change too, The best you can do is be as happy as you can as kind as you can."

"Things change. I get it."

"Right. And that's the reason that you have to embrace all of the things that make you happy. You have to root out the good, even when things seem to be awful and even when you're scared. I think that sometimes people focus on the bad things in their life because they're scared of being happy in the future. Being happy can be a scary thing—sometimes being uncomfortable is the most comfortable thing in the world. If you like to write, write. If you don't like high school, then don't worry, because it'll be over sooner than you can imagine."

The school bell rang shrilly a few seconds after Nate finished. Jake stood up and edged towards the office door. Nate watched him stop for a second before he started turning the handle. "Thank you. I'll bring some stuff for you to read," Jake said, shrugging before he disappeared from the office and was swallowed up by the sea of students in the hallway.

Nate pulled out his phone and stared at the photo of Bailey and Abel again. He couldn't fight the urge to look at it. He wanted to tell them both about his first appointment and just wanted to be around them. He thought about what he had told Jake, replaying snippets of the conversation in his mind—about how he had encouraged Jake to embrace change even though he couldn't quite manage to do it himself.

Nate was taken aback, once again, by how easily he could see what advice other people needed and how difficult he found it to take the exact same advice himself. The fact that he wanted to tell Abel about his day scared Nate because it meant that he was eager to share his life with him. He could remember a chapter in one of his first books about how the main benefit of being in a relationship was the fact that you had somebody around to witness your day-to-day tribulations. Abel was becoming the person who Nate wanted to be that witness, or at least Nate thought that Abel might become that person someday soon. Even if Abel wasn't that person, then Nate still had to be open to the idea that somebody would be. It felt like closing yet another door to the past and the life that he was stumbling further and further away from.

*~*~*

Nate locked his office door before he started walking through the school corridor. Everything was eerily quiet now that the students had left; the thud of Nate's footsteps reverberated loudly in the uneasy silence. The hallway looked strange, as if it didn't know how to exist without the hustle and bustle of everyday high school life. Nate was surprised how little the place had changed; barring a few subtle changes in the color scheme, everything was the same. The place even smelt the way that it had years ago: cheap floor polish and pine air freshener, a scent that brought back vivid memories for him as he strolled down the stairs and past the auditorium.

Being back at the school made him think about Jen a lot. He half-expected her to be waiting by the lockers for him or bouncing through the door with a joke or an outrageous story. Jen's presence was still strong in the school, and Nate felt simultaneously closer and further away from her than he had in a long time. He was taken aback by how much he wanted to see Jen again; he knew that she would have so much to say and such a different perspective from everyone else.

Nate knocked gently on David's door. "Dave, are you in there?"

"Of course, come in!" David replied jovially.

Nate walked into the office. He still felt a little rebellious, like he had been sent to the principal's office for some offense when he sat down on the plush seat opposite David. "I didn't know if you'd still be here."

"Oh. It's the principal handbook—you never get to go home or have a semblance of a life when term time is in full swing," David said, moving his head from side to side to stretch out his neck muscles.

"Sounds fun."

"So how was your first day? You don't have any visible injuries, so you're doing better than the last counselor," Dave said, his face lit by a mischievous smile.

"I really, really like it. I hope the kids think that I have something to offer them; I enjoyed meeting all of them. I had five appointments and all of them were really interesting. The students seemed smart and cool, maybe just a little bit lost and a little bit angry. But who isn't?" Nate replied, some of his words obscured by a deep yawn.

"I think you're going to be good for this school… And I think this school is going to be good for you."

"I hope so. I would really like to help—but doesn't being here make you think of Jen all of the time? I was walking down to your office, and I just thinking she was going to jump out from behind the doorway."

"Of course. I see her everywhere. At first that was really difficult; it felt like I was ripping open wounds every time I turned a corner. I didn't think that I could keep doing it, but then one day it stopped being painful and it became kind of comforting. I liked being in the place where we first met. I want to remember all of the things we did here, even if it still feels painful sometimes." David seemed genuinely at peace with everything. Nate couldn't help but notice how relaxed he seemed and how he smiled every time he mentioned Jen's name.

"You're so enlightened and mature. It's infuriating."

"I'm glad you said that. As an enlightened being, can I speak honestly?"

"Since when have you ever asked permission?" Nate settled himself in the seat to prepare himself for a burst of candor.

"I think that you should let Abel in. I think you are going to regret it if you don't let yourself see where things could go with him. I know you and I know him, and I can see that there is something between you." David's voice took on a bluntness that made his words sound like commands.

"Dave. I can't."

"Why?"

"Do you want me to list the hundred reasons right now?" Nate said sadly, throwing his arms away from his body in frustration. He didn't know how to explain what he was feeling—it seemed to be beyond words, some phantom emotion that encompassed fear and excitement and anxiety.

"Why are you
so
resistant to being happy?" Dave replied. "You have the opportunity to have something really good and you're not going for it. I don't get it. I don't know anybody who has changed for the better as much as Abel. He's a good guy now. And you should have a good guy." He sounded frustrated, but his voice was still filled with kindness.

"Dave, I have a son who basically lost his father and I'm coming off a ten-year relationship that ended so badly that people will be writing tragedies about it years from now. How am I supposed to start again? How am I supposed to even imagine that I can do it all again? Even if I really want to." Nate hated that he sounded so whiny.

"So you admit it? You admit that you want to see if things could work out? You're not going for it because you're scared."

"Of course I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified. I don't know how to do all of this. I don't know how to be with someone else. I've never had to. I don't want it to be too soon." Nate could feel a shiver of sadness roll up his body and pool in his chest.

"I know that. But you also don't want it to be too late. I know exactly how you're feeling. Starting again is absolutely shit, but you have to do it. If Jen had any rule in life, it was that you have to hurtle into things headfirst. She always had a lot of faith that things would work out. It was one of the many things that I Ioved about her. She had faith in herself and in other people, and now you have to follow her lead. If it doesn't work… then it doesn't work. That's it."

Nate stood up from the comfort of the chair and crossed the office so that he could pull David into a friendly hug. "You're so annoying, you're just
always
right."

"I know. It's a gift." Dave's voice took on its usual sarcastic edge again.

"Do you think that you'll ever be able to start again?" Nate asked cautiously

"I don't know. Jen is a pretty spectacular act to follow."

"You can say that again. I would have loved for Bailey to have known her better; she was such a wonderful example of what a woman could be. But I hope that you can take your own advice. It's not dishonoring her to be happy again."

"If it's meant to be, then it will happen; I promise I'm not shutting any doors. Now go home. Hug your kid and talk to Abel. Talk to him properly, he's come into your life for a reason." David sounded certain, which made Nate feel a little bit more confident.

"Okay, but just know that I really hate you for making me do things that I'm not brave enough to do."

"I love you, Nate."

"Yeah. I love you too, Dave."

Nate looked back for a second and watched David sit down at his desk and settle back into filing. He looked a little lonely but also completely comfortable in his surroundings, like he had found a home away from home, a place where he felt secure and in charge. It made Nate feel good to see him looking content after the devastation of Jen's death, and he loved that David had found a way to connect with her memory without letting the ghost of her haunt him and prevent him having a future. Nate appreciated what an act of courage that balance act represented, now more than ever.

It was raining lightly when Nate left the school and ran across the nearly empty parking lot to his car. His stomach flipped as he put the keys in the ignition and started driving towards Abel's lodge. Nate couldn't stop thinking about how excited he had been to tell Abel about his first day at work. The compulsion had been so immediate and so familiar that it had thrown him through a loop. He had felt like it before and could remember waiting for hours to tell Joshua about his first book contract. Nate remembered cleaning, cooking, and pacing around the house excitedly, practically bursting to share his news with Joshua. Having that same feeling with someone new felt awkward and wonderful and terrifying. Nate just wanted a glimpse into the future, to get confirmation that everything would work out for the best.

The car came to a shudder as Nate parked in front of the log cabin and sat in silence for a few moments. His body was filled with so many conflicting feelings. He wanted to run to Abel and try to start a new life with him, but he also wanted to take Bailey away and be by himself so that there was no risk of being hurt again. Nate knew that he didn't want to be let down again, and he didn't want to invest in something that wouldn't pay dividends. He didn't know if he
could
begin again; he had been forced to walk away from so many lives and he couldn't help but feel that if he were to open himself up to a new one with Abel, it would be his last shot. It would be the final new beginning that he would ever allow himself. Nate felt drawn to Abel, he felt comfortable around him and like he could himself around him, but he worried that he was attracted to Abel because he simply didn't want to be alone. As clueless as Nate knew himself to be, he knew enough to know that the fear of being lonely was not the right basis for a new relationship. He didn't want a rebound.

Nate inhaled deeply, settling his nerves, and stepped out of the car. It was still raining and the sky was turning darker now. He walked up to the door and knocked his knuckles against the wood gently, fighting the urge to run away into the anonymity of the forest. Nate's brain went blank when he saw Abel open the door, all of his concerns wiped out for one brief, blissful second. All that he could see was Abel's face and his breezy, wide smile. Nate knew that he wanted to come home to that smile every day. He wanted to dive into the kindness in Abel's eyes.