Incomplete (11 page)

“You don’t know anything!” My chest heaves and tears are blinding my eyes, but I have to do this. “That kiss—
“ I swallow. “It was a mistake.” My voice cracks. “It didn’t mean anything.” I close my eyes as I say, “It felt like I was—was kissing my sister or something. Both times. I’m just—I’m a guy. It’s what we do. We let our hormones override our brains at times. But to be honest, it didn’t feel right. I think…maybe we should take a break. Okay?” I can barely get the lies out, but choke them out I do, killing what we have, killing us.

“A break?” she repeats hollowly.

“Yeah.” I avert my face, not wanting her to see my eyes.

“You don’t want to be my friend anymore,” Lily says slowly, her voice lifeless. “Is that what you’re saying? You have no feelings for me? Not even friendship?”

“I just…” I take off my glasses and rub my eyes. “Things are too weird now. I feel weird about us, especially with us kissing and everything.”

Her lips part as confusion and anger mar her pretty features. “Then
why
did you say you had to stop before you couldn’t?
Why
did you kiss me the first time? The
second
time?”

“Forget about it.
All of it. Forget what I said. I lied, okay?
I lied
. I’m good at that, remember?”

Lily stares at me for a long time, her blue eyes pools of pain, tinged in gray with sorrow. “Better than I realized.”

“Well, now you know.” My throat is raw, tight with pain. “I lie all the time.”
I’m lying now, Lily.

“Who is this person?” Lily gestures to me. “I feel like I don’t know you. Who
are
you?”

“I’m me,” I bite out.
“The real me. Whoever you thought you knew…he isn’t real. He doesn’t exist.” My chest painfully squeezes.

She slowly shakes her head. “I think you’re lying now. This is
not
you. This is not the person I grew up with, the person I love, this is—you, this phony standing right here lying to me—are not my friend,” she says in a shaky voice, but I can hear the doubt in her voice, and also the hope, and I have to squash it.

Lily turns away and I tug her back to me, locking her in place with my eyes. I twist my features into a mask of detestation as I say between gritted teeth, “I’m not lying. I don’t
want
you, Lily. Never have, never will.
That
is the truth.
That
is why I acted the way I did after I kissed you. Because I regretted it, but I am too much of a fucking horn ball to learn any better. And now, now I can’t even look at you without remembering it.”

“Fuck you, Grayson.”

I close my eyes from the devastation in her face. I almost want her to call me out this time. I want her to see the truth through the lies I weave with my tongue. But I’m afraid, this time, she won’t. I’m afraid, this time, I’ve gone too far. When I open my eyes, she is gone. And I know I’ve ruined us beyond repair. It is better this way. I keep repeating that to myself as I begin to walk.

It takes all the strength I have in me to keep walking, to force one foot forward, and then the other. I take my glasses off and wipe my wet eyes. The air is biting cold, the scent of rain in the air. When it becomes pointless to continue to pretend I can see through the blur of tears, I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and sit down, hanging my head. At first I think somehow my tears are falling up instead of down when the first drop of wetness hits my ear. Another follows it, and another, until a steady flow of raindrops coat me and the sidewalk beside me.

I take out my phone, wanting to call her, or at least text her, to make sure she is okay. Our houses are five blocks from here—we could have walked, really, so it isn’t far for her to go. Anyway, it is a moot point because I gave that right up when I told her she was nothing to me.

It feels like she died, in my heart. I think it’s finally over—this hold we have on one another. I can leave, go to California, and Lily can live her life without me. She will be happier. In a few years, she’ll forget about me, and she will be better because of it. I did the right thing. I am so seriously screwed up in the head and I am unbearably tired of making her deal with all
my fuck-ups. So I let her go. I pushed away the one spark of light in a worthless existence. I took away what made me whole. Complete.

The darkness grows, hollowing me from
the inside out until I’m numb.

Sunday for me begins with the sound of rain pelting the steel roof that coats our house. It grows in volume, sounding like millions of hands clapping. Thunder rumbles and the crack of lightning flashes on the other side of my window. I’m lying in my bed, staring out the window to the house across the street. It is some kind of torture, watching the dark window that belongs to Lily. I don’t know why I do it—it doesn’t make her appear; it doesn’t make everything from the past months disappear or reconstruct our
world back to what it used to be. It doesn’t make me less of an idiot. It doesn’t make it possible for us to be together.
She wants to be with you.
Longing stabs through my chest. She
did
. Past tense. The ache intensifies.

A glance at the clock tells me it’s a little after six in the morning. Obviously she is still sleeping, unlike me. I spent the night looking out this window at the world I covet just beyond reach, sporadically drifting off to sleep to be tormented more by dreams of Lily. Every dream was the same—Lily with her sad, accusing eyes.
Me; helpless and numb, turning away.

The door opens and the shuffling of feet announces Aidan’s presence.
“Grayson?”

“Yeah?”
I don’t bother to look at him.

“Are you sleeping?”

I roll to my back and look over at my brother. His eyebrows are pinched together with worry and his hair is sticking straight out on one side. A gray Minecraft shirt and red sweatpants make up his pajamas. “No. What’s up?”

“Can I sit by you?”

I wordlessly scoot over.

“The thunder woke me up.” The bed shifts under his weight and Aidan situates himself next to me, bringing the scent of apples with him. He must have used our mom’s shampoo again. I don’t know why he does it—it makes him smell like a girl. I think in some messed up way it is to feel closer to our mom, but I’m no psychologist.
Psychiatrist. Whatever they’re called.

“Me too,” I tell him. Aidan is scared of thunderstorms and won’t admit it so I don’t admit I know. “Are you still tired?”

Aidan nods, yawning into his hand.

“You can go back to sleep.” I turn back to my side to resume my vigi
lance. My eyes are gritty and I am so tired. Sleep continues to be elusive. I lost her. Because I’m stupid.

“Grayson?”

I sigh. “What, Aidan?”

“Why do you think Mom drinks so much?”

I freeze, inhaling sharply. “She doesn’t…I don’t…”

“I’m not a child, Grayson.”

“Actually, you are.”

Aidan sighs, sitting up. I sit up too, turning my head to watch him. The expression on his face is much too serious for one so young to have. “I’m old enough to know what’s going on. I’m almost twelve.”

“But you’re still eleven.”

He brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. “Do you think—
“ Aidan swallows and lowers his head. “Do you think it’s because of me?” His voice shakes.

I close my eyes, thumping the back of my head against the wall. “Of all the stupid—
no
, Aidan, it’s not because of you.” I raise my head and give him a fierce look. “Don’t ever say that again. Don’t ever
think
it.”

“But why then? Why does she do it?”

“She’s sick, Aidan. In her mind. Something inside her head tells her she needs to drink and she isn’t strong enough to, or she doesn’t want to, get better. And anyway, why would you ever think it’s because of you?” I hold that slot. It’s mine. I earned it.

He shrugs his bony shoulders. “I’m not very impressive. I’m not good at sports. I’m not popular.”

“Neither am I.”

Aidan rolls his eyes. He’s been hanging around Lily too much. “Yeah, but that’s your choice not to be popular. You used to be. And you
are
good at sports.”

I turn and grab his shoulders, forcing my brother to look at me. “You impress me
every
day
, Aidan. And being good at sports and popularity? None of that matters after school. Just remember that. You know more about stars and planets and bugs than I’ll
ever
know. You know geography. You know math. You’re practically a
genius
. You remember so many things…you’re smart. You’re a good kid, Aidan, and one day, you’ll be a good man, and you know what? If Mom’s too drunk to witness any of the awesomeness that is you, that’s too bad for her. It’s
her
with the problem; not you. And fuck those kids at school who judge you on how well you throw a basketball. There is
nothing
wrong with you. Got it?”

Aidan blinks his eyes, nodding his head. “Okay, Grayson.”

“Okay.” I drop my hands from his shoulders and lean my back against the headboard.

“You said fuck.”

“Yeah. Don’t say that.”

“You did.”

I give him a look of irritation. Yeah, definitely too much time around Lily. And now what? Because of me, is Aidan going to suffer as well? I hope not. Lily is important to him; probably about as much as I am.

“Why doesn’t she get help?”

I close my eyes. “She doesn’t want it.”

“How do you know?”

I pause. “What?”

“Maybe she wants to get better, but she doesn’t know how.”

“Putting the bottle down would be the first step.”

“But you said maybe she isn’t strong enough. Maybe she wants to get better, but she’s scared.”

“And maybe she’s just a drunk and that’s all she’ll ever be.” I immediately regret my words, especially when I witness Aidan’s face. I blow out a noisy breath and rub my eyes. “Listen, Aidan, don’t worry about Mom. You worry about you. You think about all the great things you want to do with your life and you do them.”

“Like you with your music? You’re going to be famous one day,” Aidan states before I can say anything.

I laugh. “I doubt that.”

“You said I’m smart.”

“You are smart.”

“If I’m smart, that means I’m right most of the time.” I open my mouth, but he continues. “And I think you’re going to be famous, so I’m probably right, since I’m smart and everything.”

“Touché.” I have just been bested by an eleven-year old. The kid
is
smart. I smile and mess Aidan’s hair up even more than it was. He yawns again, his eyelids drooping. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’ll stay here?” Aidan’s eyes are closed.

“I’ll stay here.”

***

I spent most of Sunday playing Battleship with Aidan and mooning over Lily. We ate junk food and watched corny movies when the game got to be boring. My mom kept herself locked within her bedroom; her favorite place to be, and my dad went to work at the accounting firm. He’s a workaholic, but I know why. It’s an escape, a way to not deal with his life at home. I understand, but I still resent him for it. What about me and Aidan? Why don’t they think about how their actions affect
us
?

I’m not excited to go to school today. I even find myself waiting beside my car for a few minutes before I realize Lily won’t be riding to school with me anymore. Though it is my doing, the pain that knowledge induces is potent. I zip up the brown jacket as a shield against the cool spring air and get in the car.

“Aren’t we waiting for Lily?” Aidan asks from the back seat.

“No.” Eyes on her house, I turn the ignition and the car sputters to life. “You might as well sit up front.”

Aidan gets in front, his brows furrowed. “Why isn’t she riding with us? Is she sick?”

I don’t answer, putting the car in drive. I catch a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror as I head down the street. My heart is pounding and I feel off, like something is terribly wrong, and it is.

“Grayson?”

“What?” I snap; fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

“You drove past the grade school.”

Muttering a curse, I backtrack and park the car.

Ready to close the door, Aidan leans down and looks at me. “Is everything okay?”

He looks so worried that I nod and search my brain for something to tell him.
“Everything’s fine, Aidan. Lily had something to do today. She, uh, is planning something for her brother and his girlfriend so we might not see her too much the next couple of weeks. Okay?”

Not completely won over, he slowly nods. “Okay.” The door slams and he walks up the sidewalk to his school.

Entering the high school without her feels surreal, so completely wrong, and I swear everyone is looking at me, talking about me and the fact that Lily is not with me. Though I’ve seen the same kids almost every day for the last ten years, most of them don’t know me. No one but Lily knows how messed up my family is, and that’s the way I want it kept. A few kids at school know about my singing/songwriting from EY events, but I don’t really announce it or anything. I do it for me, not them. I feel all alone in the school without Lily next to me—incredibly, pathetically alone.

I see Garrett almost immediately, which pisses me off like nothing else could. Only thing that could be worse would be if Lily was with him. My stomach churns thinking about it.

“Hey. Is Lily okay?” he asks, his expression concerned. Dressed in faded jeans and a brown shirt, he looks expensive and casual at the same time. I’m nauseous just looking at him.

“Are we friends?” I open my locker and shove my backpack inside.

“No,” he finally answers when I glance at him.

Slamming the locker door shut, I say, “Then why are you talking to me?”

Garrett frowns. “I was just wondering if she was okay. Am I not allowed to ask that?”

“Why don’t you ask
her
? Or better yet, just text her, call her, whatever it is the two of you do.” I storm off.

“Fine.
I will.”

I spin around and stalk toward him. Face close to his, I growl, “
No
. You
won’t
.”

Garrett shakes his head, confusion clouding his features. “Whatever, man. You have issues.”

“You’re right. I do,” I agree as I head for the first class of the day.

***

It’s been eight days—eight miserable, endless, horrible days. I did this. I pushed her away. I’m the one suffering, and rightly so. But I’m also the one that keeps trying to see her. I don’t try to talk to her—that would be unbearable, but I change my schedule to at least try to catch glimpses of her whenever I can. It’s pathetic. It doesn’t make sense. It is me.

I normally run at six in the morning on school days, seven on the days I don’t have school. Lily knows this and so she’s either been running before or after me. I get smart and try to do the same, running at times I normally don’t with the intent of…I don’t know what my intention is. Just to see her, just to let her see me. But she keeps changing her running time as well. This is us—always out of sync. My fault; this is
all my fault.

School is torture. I never realized how much I relied on her presence until I can’t have it. I can’t have her smiles, I can’t have her laughter, I can’t have her attention, I can’t have any of her—because I’m trying to be noble. One thing I have learned about being noble: It blows.

I don’t bother getting a tray because I know I won’t eat anything. I sink into a chair at the end of a semi-empty table. The cafeteria is loud, annoyingly so, and my head begins to pound. I slink down in my chair and pretend I am not aware of her sitting across the crowded room with Garrett.
Didn’t take her long to move on.
I scowl then force it from my face because I
did this
. I have no one to blame for the way things are but me.

Lily is different. She is dressing inappropriately and acting…louder. She talks louder, laughs louder—
everything
. That too, I have myself to thank for. Most of the time when I see her, I want to grab the nearest blanket, towel, coat—
whatever
I can find and drape it over her. Even me, I’d drape me over her too so no one could gawk at her slinky body she is just now revealing to the world. The urge to yell at her is predominant as well. I have no right to be, but I am so angry at her for doing exactly what I told her to do.

“You look like shit.”

I glance up at Ben. “Fuck you.”

Ben laughs and sits across from me, shoving half of a turkey sandwich in his mouth. “Just keeping it real,” he says around a mouthful of food. He’s wearing a Pink Panther shirt tha
t should look ridiculous on him but somehow looks cool.

“Where’s Mia?” I say just to be nasty.

He frowns, taking a deep swallow of chocolate milk. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

I sit a little straighter in my seat. I may as well distract myself from my self-inflicted misery by entertaining myself with Ben’s. “You look like you care.”