Forever for a Year (19 page)

*   *   *

My mom drove me to Starbucks at eleven thirty-six a.m. On the way, she said, “Don't let this boy get in the way of your schoolwork.”

“I'm going to meet him to do homework, Mom.”

“Okay, just make sure you get work done.”

“I get straight As, Mom!”

“I know.”

“Why can't you trust me?”

“I do. But boys … love … they can make us make bad choices,” she said, and I could tell she was talking about herself, and this made me sad because I thought she was happy with Dad now, but I didn't want to think about her being unhappy again, so I said, “Trevor and I, we're soul mates,” and then I wish I didn't say it. Why did I say that? Because it's true and I wanted to say it out loud! And your mom should be the one person you can say things to!

“Carrie,” my mom said, calling me by the WRONG name, “you met him two weeks ago.”

“When you meet your soul mate, you know after two seconds! He asked me to be his girlfriend last night!”

“Just slow down.”

“I'm happy! You want me to slow down from being happy?”

“No, please don't yell.… I just know feelings can change very fast at your age. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Trevor would never hurt me, and I would never hurt him!” I didn't really know if Trevor would never hurt me. Maybe I did! But I would never, never, ever hurt him, I was one million percent sure, but I told my mom this because I needed her to shut up.

“Okay, okay,” my mom said, taking in deep breaths, strangling the steering wheel. She was upset. Why was she upset? She was not being supportive the first and only time I would ever fall in love! She kept talking. “Just know you can talk to me about anything. If anything ever comes up.”

“Why would I want to talk to you about Trevor if you are going to be so unsupportive, huh, Mom?”

“I'm not…” But she didn't finish her sentence. She just drove. So I didn't talk either. And then she stopped in front of Starbucks, and I said, “Don't worry, I'll find my own way home,” and I said it like a brat, but I didn't care. I cared a little. But I didn't apologize, I just went inside, and even though it was only eleven forty-four, Trevor was already there and he looked up, and he saw me and I saw him, and our eyes shot laser lights into each other and our bodies rose up off the ground and flew into each other's arms, but obviously that didn't really happen but maybe I ran toward him, or maybe he ran toward me, and I had the biggest smile ever and then we kissed and I wanted to scream,
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I AM GOING TO EXPLODE
,
but I didn't say anything, I just sat down next to him at the table where he had already gotten me an iced tea, and took out my homework but as soon as I looked at it I knew it was so unimportant compared to Trevor and love and soul mates and being his GIRLFRIEND.

If I told my mom this, she would think she was right, but she was the opposite of right.

 

36

Trevor tries to watch a movie

Carolina and I kissed at Starbucks, but we didn't really kiss. Not that that's what I wanted to do. I did. But it wasn't the only thing. I wanted to talk to her and be with her. And it was really hard being so close to her but not able to be even closer. We were like … LEGO pieces that couldn't connect, but were meant to, and would soon, but just had to wait even though it was so obvious we should be put together. That's a dumb metaphor. Sorry. I'm just trying to explain how much we wanted to be as close as we could be all the time.

At five, I walked her home even though it was two miles away. We didn't mind. It meant more time to spend together, and it was nice to hold hands. When we got to her house, she invited me in. The house was dark; it didn't have many windows and the curtains seemed to block the light even when they were open. All the furniture was older. Like it had been bought used. But it was clean, or at least vacuumed. Her dad had driven out to Northern Illinois University for his classes the next morning, but Carolina's mom was on the couch watching television. Her hair was cut short, like a boy's but wavy, and she was wearing pants that were too big for her and big brown glasses that might have been in style in the 1990s. She seemed really tired, like she hadn't slept for weeks. Maybe years.

“Hi, Trevor,” she said, “I'm Mrs. Fisher.” She paused the TV and raised her hand without standing.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fisher,” I said. Felt like a puppet. Wish I could say hello to adults with more originality.

“I'm going to show Trevor my room,” Carolina said.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” her mom said. Carolina ignored her, grabbed my hand, and pulled me down a short hall.

As we walked out of the living room, I whispered, “Your mom is going to hate me.”

“No, she won't. She's just in a bad mood because my dad is gone for two days.”

“Are you sure?”

“She doesn't understand how important you are,” Carolina said.

“My dad doesn't understand how important you are to me,” I said. We both squeezed our hands tighter as we entered her bedroom.

“This is my room,” she said, and she spun around in the center. It was small, about half the size of mine. It had pink carpet. On the wall were magazine pictures of girl and boy soccer players. Including David Beckham, who always made me feel ugly. Above her desk was a collage of photographs with Peggy and her that said
BEST FRIENDS FOREVER
. On the bed was a pink blanket and a rainbow of stuffed animals. There was one framed poster, of Stanford University, between her closet and the window.

Carolina closed the door behind us and kissed me. I kissed her back. I grabbed her. She grabbed me. And we acted like we were going to swallow each other. I couldn't even think when we kissed. It was just so intense my brain turned off and my body took over.

There was a knock on the door, and we yanked ourselves apart. Both of us wiped our mouths dry, and Carolina opened the door. It was her mom. Of course.

She said, “Leave the door open,” turned around, and disappeared.

*   *   *

I walked home a little while later because when my dad was home we always had dinner at seven Sunday through Thursday. Carolina said her mom could drive me, but I didn't want her to hate me any more than she already did.

We texted during my whole walk home so it felt like Carolina was still with me, even if only in my head.

*   *   *

That week at school, Carolina and I went everywhere together. We held hands. We kissed in the hall. We texted between classes. During lunch period, we spent half the time with her friends at the cafeteria table, then half the time in the hall, sitting on the floor, our sides pressed tightly against each other. She called me on Monday night, so I called her Tuesday night. Then we video chatted Wednesday, which was awesome but uncomfortable—so much pressure to look cool because we couldn't touch each other; when we could touch each other we didn't worry about looking cool—so we went back to texting Thursday night.

At practice Thursday, Tor said, “I see you got yourself a girlfriend, Pain,” because that had become my nickname.

And I said, “Yep.”

“You had sex yet?” one of the seniors, Edward, asked, then laughed as if what he'd said was a joke.

“No,” I said.

“Better find out if she's a prude now so you don't waste too much time with her,” he said. I wanted to beat Edward's face in. But I didn't do it. Of course not. I'm not a psycho in real life, only in my head. I hate that I'm a psycho anywhere. Maybe Carolina will make me normal.

I didn't care if Carolina was a prude. She wasn't. But I wouldn't care if she were. Can you be a prude with someone you love? I don't know, but I don't think so.

*   *   *

We went and saw a movie Friday. Her dad drove and dropped us off. He was super relaxed, which made him easy to be with. Like he was in high school, but not immature. My dad is so uptight about everything. I always feel like I'm doing something wrong around him even if I'm not doing anything. My life would be a lot better if Carolina's dad was my dad. Mr. Fisher probably would have been a better husband to my mom too. Maybe he would have made her feel like she didn't have to be perfect. Who the hell knows.

Sitting next to Carolina in the theater was … different. Made me a bit nuts. The right side of my body did this tiny shake the entire movie. All my skin cells wanted to jump off me and onto her. She didn't notice. We had never sat next to each other for two hours without talking or kissing. Just wound me up, more each minute. Voom. Voooom. Voooooom. I couldn't really concentrate on the story, but Carolina has this cute laugh where it starts in her nose, she tries to stop it with her hand, and then it comes out the side of her mouth as part of a big smile. I concentrated on that.

Afterward, my mom picked us up. As much as my dad makes everything tense with his seriousness, I still would rather deal with him than my mom. At least my dad knows when to be quiet. But she had insisted.

“Why don't you sit in front with me, Carolina?” my mom said as I opened the front passenger door. Before I could protest, Carolina said, “Okay!” and jumped in past me. I sat in the back. Sulked. I was primed to watch my mom find a way to destroy the one thing that had made life tolerable since she tried to kill herself.

And … I don't know. My mom asked generic questions about Carolina's family. And school. And other crap I know my mom didn't care about. But Carolina loved it. I could see it in her expression even from the back seat. Now I worried that Carolina would like my mom, they would become friends, and I'd have to tell her that my mom was this broken person who couldn't be trusted. Then Carolina wouldn't trust
me
. And then …

Come on, Trevor. Breathe. Breathe. This fake, overfriendly conversation is driving me insane! Aaaaaaahhhhh … Okay … Relax …

*   *   *

As we were walking down the stairs into the basement, Carolina said, “I love your mom. You have the best mom I've ever met,” and for a second I hated Carolina. And I hated my mom more than ever for making me hate Carolina.

“What's wrong?” Carolina stopped, made me face her. But I couldn't look her in the eyes.

“Nothing,” I said. I wasn't going to talk about this. No way. I'd rather slam my head through the wall.

“Trevor,” she said, softer, taking both my hands in hers. “Are you mad at me?” And as soon as she said it, so sincere and looking at me with so much care, not with this emptiness my mom always had, I stopped hating her and loved her more than ever.

“I'm not mad at you. I'm … I … you're the best thing in my life,” I said. Seriously, if you told me I'd be saying this stuff two weeks ago, I would have jumped in front of a train.

“You're my best thing too,” she said, and kissed me. It was nice. I kissed her back slowly. Which was not usual for us. But I didn't want to swallow her up right now. I just wanted to be connected and make sure the connection stayed strong, and I could only do that if my head wasn't dizzy. So we tried kissing slow, and it calmed me. We lay side by side on the couch. Our legs stacked my right, her left, my left, her right, and my right arm was under her body, her right arm rested along my side. We didn't use tongue, not much. Didn't close our eyes. Just kept kissing every few seconds, like we were nibbling at each other. Not in a gross way. But like we wanted to taste each other, savor each other. That still sounds gross. But I swear it was really sweet. Now it sounds stupid. It was great, okay?

After a while, we stopped kissing and just gazed at each other. Deeper, longer than we ever had. I could see everything inside her, and I think she saw me too. Then Carolina said, “You're crying.” And crap, I realized my eyes had started tearing. I wiped them away and looked down. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I'm happy,” I said.

“You cry when you're happy?”

“I guess I do, sometimes.”

“Me too, sometimes,” Carolina said. She kissed the corners of my eyes. Of course she did.

 

37

Carolina has a new dream

So, wait a minute. Okay?

I wasn't this girl who only dreamed of getting married someday, and planning my wedding day, all that stuff. No. Not me! At all! Even before my dad cheated on my mom and I had to kick him out, it's not like I thought marriage was this amazing thing that should be my number one dream. Even when I was, like, five, I knew I wanted to be my own boss and do great things. For a long time, I thought I would be a doctor. Just because they were so important and I watched them tell my mom what to do and I knew I wanted to be the one telling other people what to do. I know this sounds like I'm a bitch, but I'm not. I just know I have really good ideas and I'm nice and I work very hard. Shouldn't those types of people be in charge? I think so. Anyway, then in junior high I took science and I wasn't very good at it. My mom said not all doctors have to be great at science, but I started thinking I would be a soccer coach instead. My mom told me women coaches can't make very much money, and it's not like money is the most important thing, but if I'm going to work as hard as I do, I want to make sure my family doesn't have to worry about money like my mom does. (My dad doesn't worry about money. He says he's more concerned with his soul and his brain, but I think he can only worry about those things because my mom worries about the money.)

So at the end of eighth grade, it was no to coaching and probably no to being a doctor. And then I started hearing about women like Marissa Mayer and Sheryl Sandberg, and I realized that I wanted to do what they do. Be in charge at a big company where I could be on television and be an example to other girls of a woman who is smart and strong. I didn't want to be famous like actresses are—just for being pretty. I wanted to be someone people respected and listened to because I sounded wise, but in a humble way.