Remember When (Remember Trilogy #1) (16 page)

   There was a huge part of me that was relieved to hear that nothing happened between him and the skank, but there was this irritating other part of me that wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone and call him. I hated the idea that he was headed down this self-destructive path and wanted to stop him before the Keith Richards impersonation went too far, mostly because there was a tiny little fragment of my brain- a miniscule, infinitesimal speck- that felt the need to take responsibility for kicking him down that road in the first place.

   I managed to resist the urge, however, and by the time Christmas break rolled around, it had become much easier to pretend he didn’t even exist.

   Or maybe it was just getting easier to lie to myself.

Chapter 20

MISERY

   The First Snow is always fun- especially if it lands on a school day- and you can either bundle up and go outside to goof around or curl up next to the fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate and a good book. The snow gets old pretty fast, however, especially when your dad forgets to get the snowblower fixed and has to recruit his kids to help him shovel out the car at six in the morning.

   But most of winter is just... grey. Grey and wet and boring. After the excitement of the holidays is over, there’s nothing left to do but watch your Christmas tree die as you stare at the walls in your house every night. Then there are the months of hibernation, no parties to go to because nobody bothers to throw one. It’s not worth the risk of driving icy roads at night and everyone has Seasonal Affective Disorder anyway, so it’s not as though my calendar was filled with an excess of socializing opportunities.

   In other words, I hardly had to put any effort into avoiding Trip over the winter.

   Of course I had to see him at school every day, but pretending he wasn’t there had become almost as habitual as breathing by then. Hockey kept him pretty busy, so he wasn’t able to make too many appearances on the rare occasions when there actually
was
a party or something going on, and I wasn’t sure if his absence made the situation easier or harder to deal with. At least when we were ignoring each other, we’d have to be in the same room in order to do so, consciously aware of the other person at every moment. In a sick way, it allowed me to still think him a part of my life, even though the relationship- or lack thereof- was in tatters.

   When he wasn’t around at all, I couldn’t keep tabs on him.

   I knew I shouldn’t have cared and scolded myself for being pathetic all over again. But at least this version of pathetic was a far cry from the old one, as I was the only one to be aware of it. The tradeoff being that at least my misery was known only to
me
this time.

   Lisa was the only one who knew me well enough not to buy into my act at nonchalance, but she also knew I wouldn’t have been very receptive to her input on the matter. I’m sure she figured she’d already said enough on the subject of Trip Wilmington and to tell the truth, I’d have been inclined to agree. It’s not that I harbored any bad vibes toward my best friend, but she
was
the one responsible for kicking this little birdie out of the nest a tad prematurely. Rather than be there to help pick me up after my fall, she just went on with her perfect life as if the matter was over and done with.

   Maybe that’s being a bit too harsh.
Nobody
has a perfect life and it’s not like Lisa left me
completely
flat. I’d made it a point to put up the front that nothing was wrong anyway. I guess I just found so many things about her to be jealous about and I was feeling more than a little left behind. After all, she was Miss Popularity. She was the one with the great boyfriend.

   She was the one who had a mother.

   In addition to Christmas and Valentine’s Day, my mother’s birthday was in January, making winter even more unbearable. Dad, Bruce and I had gotten in the habit of “uncelebrating” the occasion with a pineapple upside-down cake every year. About a week before the actual day, Dad would start compiling the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter without comment, the shrine of groceries standing sentinel for days until I finally caved and made him his miserable cake. It was an unspoken ritual between the three of us, maybe a downright masochistic one, but one we honored nonetheless. Like the swallows returning to Capistrano every spring, we all knew that my mother’s birthday was rolling around the corner when the cans of Dole found their way back to our kitchen. As if we could forget.

   Lisa knew that January was always pretty tough for me. Aside from July, it was the only other time of year when I relied a little heavier than usual on my surrogate mother, a woman who lived three houses down and went by the name of Stephanie DeSanto. Having Lisa off spending every minute with her boyfriend, she was depriving me of my much-needed quality time with her mom. I missed hanging out at the DeSantos’, having Mrs. D say things like, “There are my girls!” whenever Lisa and I came walking through the door.

   I hated myself for feeling so selfish about everything, but once Lisa’s virginity status had finally been relegated to the history books, it was as though she and I were officially living on different planets. There she was, relaying this Big News and all I could think about was how it affected
me
. Thankfully, I shut up about it and she was able to remain unaware of my self-centeredness in regards to her life. I could have done without hearing all the intricate details of their every coupling, however, but maybe I would have felt that way regardless. I’d never really been the kind of girl who was ever comfortable discussing such intimate events in such excruciating detail.

   Or maybe it was just that I didn’t have any intimate details to discuss.

   I went out on a handful of dates with Cooper, but again, we found ourselves just kind of going through the motions. We were both aware that there wasn’t some storybook, fairytale ending awaiting the two of us and managed to strike a mutual, unspoken agreement about our romantic status. Basically, we liked each other a lot, and since neither one of us was dating anyone else, we decided to kill some time together.

   Cooper was a huge help to me over those months, even if he wasn’t completely aware of it at the time. It was comforting to have a friend- a great-looking, charming friend- there to keep me from slipping down into a depressed, winter funk. Just the idea that an awesome guy like Cooper Benedict sought my company was enough to bolster my confidence.

   Normally, after work on Friday nights, I’d bring a movie home, he’d come over and we’d stay in to watch it. Sometimes, we’d fool around a little, but only if the movie sucked so badly that it couldn’t hold our attentions.

   When I finally figured I’d saved enough money for a car, it was Coop who took me from lot to lot, helping me do my homework and kicking the tires of every used car in the Northern New Jersey area. By the time we narrowed it down to two different front-runners, Dad stepped in to make sure I wasn’t being taken to the cleaners. I felt pretty proud that he’d stamped his approval on both cars, saying that I’d done good and was free to make my own choice between the two.

   The first car was a Ford Mustang. It was candy-apple red, which was a little flashy for my taste, but it was also a convertible, which was a major check in the pro column. And each time I slipped behind the wheel, something just felt right. I loved the exhilarating grumble of the engine and the way I felt about myself when I had taken it out for a test drive. It would, however, also have sapped my entire budget, barely leaving me with enough scratch afterwards to buy a tank of gas. Plus, the leather seats had seen better days, the upholstery cracked all over and ripped clean through in a couple spots. I’d definitely have to use my next paycheck to invest in a couple seat covers.

    Therefore, I’d been leaning heavily toward the Ford Taurus. Don’t be fooled into thinking it was boring and dull. It was a really good car with low mileage and under my budget, allowing me to hang onto a nice chunk of my hard-earned cash. It was black, too, which made it look a
little cooler than if it was Grandma Blue or something like that. I liked it. It was a good, solid, dependable car.

  I had worked for months at a job I could barely tolerate, socking away enough money for a car of my own. I’d kept a lid on any frivolous spending just for the opportunity to be in that position, the one I’d dreamt about forever. Obviously, I wasn’t planning to take the decision lightly.

   All in all, I thought the Mustang was an excellent choice.

Chapter 21

STEPPING OUT

   Spring came without fanfare at first, just a steady thaw of frozen earth, softening just enough to let the first crocus peek through and for a few birds to return to the neighborhood.

   A few days after that, we were blessed with The First Nice Day.

   There’s nothing quite like The First Nice Day in Jersey. It’s like we’ve all been released from cages or something, everyone jumping the gun on those opening rays of sunshine by wearing sunglasses and driving around with their windows down. I had taken advantage of my new convertible that day, taking the top down to drive around in barely sixty-five degree weather while pretending I wasn’t freezing my face off. Everyone’s music got played a little louder and their spirits got raised a little higher.

   My spirits had certainly been raised; I’d received a few acceptance letters to some really good colleges- Swarthmore, Amherst... Dad’s beloved Northwestern. I’d jokingly applied to Harvard purely as a shot in the dark, so there was no big surprise when I found out I’d been rejected.

   But the day I opened the mailbox and saw a big, fat envelope with an NYU stamp in the corner, I just about exploded through the front door, excited beyond belief to show my father. He was happy for me, but couldn’t see how I could turn down Northwestern for NYU. I made the case by reminding him that although I’d been drawn to Northwestern because of their creative writing program, there was no better place to get my artistic juices flowing than in the most amazing city in the world. Once I pointed out how much closer the commute home would be from the city than Chicago, I knew I had him sold. Dad dropped his subtle nudging for Northwestern once he realized I was sure I’d be happier in New York.

   Besides, Lisa had been accepted to F.I.T., so we cooked up a plan to live in our respective dorms for a year or so, then go apartment hunting down in the village and move in together. Facing a big, strange city wasn’t going to be so bad with Lisa by my side. I didn’t think there was anything we couldn’t do so long as we were together.

   Speaking of being together... Lisa and Pickford had broken up over Spring Break. Turned out, he was taking his recent rebellious phase to new levels and Lisa got caught in the maelstrom. Apparently, Dr. Redy had had his heart set on a Columbia education for his son. (Funny, but I don’t remember ever hearing about him pushing for Penelope to live up to any grand expectations.) In any case, Pickford decided to take UCLA up on their scholarship offer and play basketball for the Bruins rather than lay the groundwork for a career in
medicine. The announcement had the intended effect of infuriating his father, who couldn’t even threaten to withhold tuition money anymore now that Pick had been offered a free ride.

   The fallout, however, was that he’d be moving to the completely opposite end of the country from Lisa. She just went bonkers when she found out about the “stunt” he had pulled, and I’m sure her tirade even gave Dr. Redy’s anger a run for its money. Pickford tried appeasing her with promises of a long-distance relationship and by reminding her that they still had months together before they’d both be expected to go off to school, but Lisa wasn’t having any of it. She told him she didn’t see the point in staying together if they were just going to break up in a few months anyway.

   Pickford really made a go of it, sending her flowers almost weekly and leaving love notes in her locker every day. I felt really badly for him, but my loyalties needed to lie squarely with Lisa. Don’t get me wrong, I felt just as awful for her. Probably more so, since I had to watch her fall to pieces every day. She never let anyone see how upset she truly was, but when it was just the two of us, she would totally let herself go, bawling like a child; red face, puffy eyes, runny nose and all.

   I was more than willing to be the rock for my best friend, since usually our dynamic worked the other way around. Without seeming too detached or self-inflating
about the situation, I gotta say, it was actually kinda nice to have the opportunity to return the favor.

   I tried everything I could think of to get her mind off the breakup; renting cheesy movies, frying up some Elvis sandwiches (her favorite), taking her to the bowling alley where we were always able to con a few beers... I even went so far as to dig out my old sticker albums from the attic so she could take a whiff of my much-coveted popcorn scratch n’ sniff.