Things I Can't Forget (14 page)

He leans his head back against the sofa and pulls me against his chest. “Mom was pregnant with Jenn when I met you. And Jeremiah was ten and wouldn’t stop trying to set things on fire, and Leigh was seventeen and wouldn’t stop asking Mom and Dad for a new car…Lacey was five and threw temper tantrums that would scare the devil…Dad worked all the time, teaching drivers’ ed on weekends to earn us extra money. Mom was busy with church and my brother and sisters, and I wanted to make things easy for her, so I kept my head down.”

“You were lonely?”

“Really lonely. And I didn’t get along with anybody at school really. I wasn’t very popular and no one cared about my music. No one read books as much as I did.”

I press my face against his chest, and he tucks my head under his chin, holding me tighter. “I know what you mean,” I tell him.

“Kids at school were picking on me about my clothes from yard sales and my songwriting. I didn’t want to give up my music but people kept making fun of me. And I didn’t know what to do…but that week at camp, you wanted to hear my music.”

I smile and shut my eyes.

“And then Jenn was born and I was the only one who could get her to stop crying,” he says. “And she made me feel good again. I figured if Jenn liked me…and you liked me, I could like me too…So I started living for me. I joined the track team because I love running, and I kept writing music. And then in high school, I started making friends who liked the same stuff I do.”

But what if I would rather have a relationship with God than friendships with people who don’t believe in him like I do?

Why is it cool for some people to do what they want to do, but uncool for others? Why is being on the football team considered cool while being on the math team is not?

“I’m really happy you figured that out about yourself,” I tell him.

He holds me closer. “I’m just glad I met you.” His voice is filled with emotion. “I’m not sure I’d be where I am today,” he whispers.

We kiss gently, a fire blazing in my lips as I try to keep this slow and steady.

That’s when his sister, Lacey, appears in the basement with her friends, and they take one look at me and Matt cuddling and start going, “Woooo!”

He grins and blushes, and his mouth gently touches my earlobe. “We’d better escape before an Apple Pie Water Gun Attack happens. Want to see my room?”

Deep inside I know it’s not right but I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than see his room. Smell its smells. See if he puts his clothes in a laundry basket or leaves them scattered across the rug. Sit on his bed and hold his hand and be closer to him than to anyone else.

I nod slowly, and we make our way past the five giggling girls throwing popcorn at each other and climb three flights of stairs to reach the attic area. His door opens to reveal T-shirts and boxer shorts draped everywhere, dirty dishes sitting on the dressers and end tables, and Jeremiah lounging on one of the two twin beds with a car magazine in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

“Out,” Matt says to Jeremiah, who gives us a knowing smile.

He points at Matt with his cell phone. “Annabelle’s coming over tomorrow after church. I expect reciprocity.” He tosses his magazine on his bed, stands, and struts out of the room.

“Reciprocity?” I ask.

“Jere likes big words…So, this is where it all happens,” Matt tells me, flopping down on his twin bed. He knocks a pile of clothes onto the rug and pats his blue-striped comforter, indicating I should sit with him. I weave around teetering piles of books to join him.

“All what happens?” I ask, pulling my knees to my chest. “Do you have girls over a lot?”

“Nope.” He gives me a mischievous grin. “I don’t think I’ve had a girl here since high school. Since Sarah.”

“Were you really close?” I glance around at the posters of women and cars on the walls.

“We never had sex, if that’s what you mean,” Matt says quietly, falling backward onto his pillow.

Is he a virgin? Did they really date for three years and manage not to have sex? Hearing that makes me really happy.

“Nah, I wasn’t wondering that,” I reply, even though I was. This relationship (or whatever we are) will never work if we aren’t truthful. I inhale deeply through my nose. “Okay, so I was wondering that.”

Matt chuckles. “I know. I can see right through you.”

“Great,” I say in a sarcastic voice, laughing. I’m shaking as I lie down next to him.

“Can’t you see through me too?”

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sorta…”

“Well, if you can’t see through me, here you go. I want you bad. Kiss me.”

We’re laughing as we stretch out on his bed. His hands are in my hair and I play with his T-shirt. He positions himself between my legs as we make out. All I can think about is how I want to press my chest to his, my skin to his skin.

Then the door opens.

“Oh!” his dad exclaims.

Matt suddenly rolls off me. “Dad! Why didn’t you knock?”

“Sorry, son,” Mr. Brown says, grinning. “Your mom sent me up here to make sure your brother didn’t have any girls in your room.” The door clicks shut.

“That was so mortifying,” I groan.

“At least we have our clothes on.” He chuckles, pressing his forehead to mine. “One time Mom caught Jeremiah and some girl completely—”

A knock sounds on the door.

“Who is it?” Matt yells, exasperated.

“Your father.”

“What do you want?”

“Can you mow the lawn tomorrow after church?”

“Daaaaaaaad.” Matt’s shaking his head and laughing. My mouth has dropped open. “Couldn’t you have waited until after Kate goes home to ask me?”

“I didn’t want to forget,” Mr. Brown says from behind the door.

Matt whispers to me, “This is his way of saying we shouldn’t be in here alone together.”

I nod.

Matt yells to his dad, “Fine, I’ll mow the lawn. Now go away.”

I smack his chest.

“What?” Matt asks, clutching my hands so I can’t hit him again.

“You shouldn’t treat your dad that way.”

“I like her,” Mr. Brown says from out in the hallway.

“Daaaaadd, stop eavesdropping!” Matt jumps to his feet and grabs his keys from the nightstand. “That’s it, I’m taking you home. We’ll never find any peace around here.”

I can’t stop laughing.

•••

I get Emily’s voicemail. Again.

“Hey, um,” I say into the phone. “It’s me. Again. I’m just calling to say that I miss you. Call me or my mom if you need anything. Really—anything. Okay, well, bye.”

I push the end call button.

•••

On Sunday evening, everyone’s heading for Dogwood, and I suck in a breath when Matt sweeps me into his arms. I’m afraid he’ll ask me to sleep in there with the other guy counselors.

I’m afraid I’ll say yes.

“I got a surprise for you,” he whispers.

“What?”

“Come on.”

He leads me out into the big field where we do field games, where he and I run every morning. The stars shine brightly on the patch of grass where he’s set up a campfire and has stretched the giant parachute across the grass. Two thin mattresses and our sleeping bags rest on top of the parachute.

“Thought we could sleep out here tonight,” he says, squeezing my hand.

The air is warm and just right for camping. Our mattresses are about ten feet apart. I glance over at him. I want to lie close enough to whisper to him.

“You can move your mattress closer to mine if you want.”

His face reddens, and he smiles. We move our mattresses, so near they are kissing, but I decide to lie down with him on his, and his hands are shaking and mine are shaking but we’re laughing.

“You’re awfully presumptuous,” he says, as I cuddle up next to him under a sheet he brought. It smells clean and crisp and feels cool against my skin. I twine my feet with his; his blue hospital scrubs tickle my legs.

We begin kissing gently. More slowly than we did last night in his bed. He keeps touching my face and my hair and I find myself wanting to get as close to him as possible. I press my chest to his and kiss him harder.

“Wait, wait,” he mumbles, pulling away, our sheet tangling around his body. He rolls onto his back and brushes the hair out of his eyes, staring at the sky.

“Did I do something wrong?” I whisper.

“No, no…It’s just, what are we?” He looks over at me.

“Huh?”

“Are we, like, together? Or dating casually? Or what?”

A lump fills my throat. “Um, what do you think we are?”

“I guess I’m hoping this isn’t just a casual thing for you…”

“For me?” I blurt. “Never.”

He laughs and props himself up on an elbow to stare down at me. “You want to keep me around for a while?”

“Yes, please.”

He drums his fingers on my rib cage. It tickles. “Are we giving a relationship a try?”

“Yes, please,” I say, laughing.

He grins. “Okay, now that that’s settled, I can permit you to have your way with me.”

I flick his forehead. “Oh, whatever.”

“Oh, whatever?” He starts tickling me and I squirm around. “Oh, whatever? You were the one all pushing up against me a couple minutes ago.”

“C’mere,” I say, pulling him in. He touches my bare stomach as we kiss. His fingers inch higher and higher until they reach my bra. I’m about to shove him away from me, but his blue eyes catch mine, and they are so warm and tender, and I just want us to be happy and close as can be.

He brushes his fingers across my breast and pushes my shirt up. Matt focuses on the little white bow between my breasts, taking it between his fingers. Then he’s kissing me through my bra. He shrugs out of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head in one motion, and I can’t stop touching his strong, smooth chest, and then we’re moving in tune with each other. He presses himself against my cotton shorts.

“Does this feel nice?” he whispers, rocking his hips against mine.

I can barely nod because it’s like every nerve ending in my body is primed to explode. And then they do and I feel like I’m falling away and I’m shuddering and gasping for breath.

We cuddle in silence until he falls asleep next to me, his warm breath tickling my neck as he snores softly.

The stars above me are blurry because my eyes are watering.

I don’t know what makes me feel more guilty: that I love how he touched me when I should hate it, when I should have pushed him away, or how I couldn’t hear God’s warnings because of the way Matt made me feel.

what happened on june 19

I’ve always worked hard to control my temper.

I’m sketching a picture of every happy thing I can think of. Fudge, sunshine, kittens.

Grandpa Kelly always says, “Never let anyone see your weak point. It’s the opening they’re looking for, to do more damage.”

So that’s what I’m trying to do during lunch: Not get angry in front of Megan or any of the other counselors. Earlier today, she humiliated me.

“Is this really an art project?” she had asked in front of fifty campers, staring at my decoupaged Coke bottle.

“I like the footballs!” shouted Liam, an eight-year-old.

“Art is about expressing yourself in whatever way you want,” I told Megan, digging my thumbnail into my hand. “Self-expression is an important thing to teach the kids.”

“But this,” she said, holding up my Coke bottle, “is not something kids can take home to their mothers as a gift.”

“I thought that since I’m the arts and crafts director, I get to choose the program. I don’t believe in censorship when it comes to art.”

“I think the regional conference would be happier if kids could bring home presents to their moms. Why don’t you make more candles or something?” She gave my boxes of junk a junky look and left the pavilion.

A little girl looked up at me, holding a baby food jar that she was covering with flowers. “Is this not really art?” she asked.

“If you think it’s art, it’s art,” I replied, and breathed in deeply through my nose, trying not to shake.

Here in the now, I keep drawing suns and pinwheels and waves.

wednesday, june 20 ~ week 3 of 7

I overdid it on my morning jog with Matt. With his help, I can run four miles again, but I don’t think my knee is cut out for long-distance running anymore, and that makes me want to cry.

In high school, if I ever felt down about something, I would run and run and run, and now I can’t do that. I can’t clear my mind. I’m not part of a soccer team anymore.

I also keep thinking of what happened with Matt on Sunday night.

At first when I think of it, a smile flits across my face, but then I feel ashamed. These feelings confuse me, and I want to talk to Emily about it, but after what happened at her apartment, she hasn’t tried to call even once. Besides, she might say I’m childish—that everyone does
that
with their boyfriends. Matt hasn’t even brought it up.

How is it possible to have a great boyfriend but still feel lonely?

My art class with the campers just ended. We made candles by dripping wax into sand holes we dug, and then made stained-glass votives.

Ever since she made that jewelry box, Parker has been coming to my art classes during her breaks. She doesn’t say much, because she doesn’t want me to get in trouble with Megan again, but she stuck around to help me clean up today.

She sweeps sand into little piles while I store supplies on the shelves, hobbling back and forth from the tables to the cupboards.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

The moment she asks that, tears fill my eyes. The emotions just get to me. “I’m okay,” I say, staying in the closet until I get myself under control. I will not cry in front of her.

Then she appears behind me and catches me wiping my nose.

“Is your leg hurting?” she asks, looking at my scar.

“Yeah…I’ve been running with Matt.”

“Should you be running on it?”

“My therapist said it should be okay, but I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“I’m so sorry about soccer.”

I focus on my watercolor of White Oak. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

Parker bites on her lower lip and drags the broom across the floor. “It definitely sucked when they split up.”

“I know we weren’t really friends before that happened, but I’m sorry.”

She pauses. “It’s not your fault.”

“I could’ve reached out, but…I didn’t understand why you were acting like you were, you know…hooking up with guys a lot. It scared me.”

“It scared me too,” she admits, clutching the broom handle.

“Will said your friends turned against you?”

“Most of them, yeah. It was…hard. My best friend told everyone I was probably gay, like Mom.”

My eyes water again. I don’t know whether it’s the pain from my knee or just my overall state of mind, but I can’t control my tears today. At all. “I lost my best friend.”

Parker’s eyes grow wide. “Emily? From church?”

I nod slowly.

“What happened?”

I avoid her stare and walk out of the closet. I stop to drum my fingers on a picnic table, dipping my fingers into the chipped wood where someone named Lily carved her name. “I’m dating Matt now,” I tell Parker, dropping the subject of Emily. “Like a real relationship.”

Parker squeals and comes to hug me.

“And?” she says.

“And what?”

“Have you guys kissed? Made out or anything?”

I swallow and tell myself to ignore the other night. All of our clothes stayed on, but I could feel him through my shorts. It felt great. It felt wrong. “We’ve kissed, yeah.”

She grins. “I’m so glad he picked you instead of that nasty Andrea!”

I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. But I feel a little bit bad, considering Andrea helped Matt get through his breakup and ended up falling for him, even though she didn’t intend for it to happen.

“She keeps going on and on about how she’ll be in Cabo at the same time as him,” Parker says.

“Cabo?” I say quietly.

“Mexico.”

“I know where Cabo is, but what does Mexico have to do with Andrea and Matt?”

“I guess his frat is going with her sorority to Mexico over the Fourth of July.”

We have that week off from camp, but Matt hadn’t mentioned a trip. And he definitely did not mention a trip with Andrea!

“He hasn’t said anything,” I tell Parker.

“I’m sure that he just forgot,” she says, lifting a shoulder. “He’s a guy, right?”

“What if—”

Parker cuts me off, waving the broom at me. “He does not like her like that. Trust me. He could’ve had her already. He wants you!”

I step to the edge of the pavilion and peer into the woods. “I can’t imagine a week with nothing to do,” I mumble. Mom and Daddy are going on that cruise and I’m staying home with Fritz the dog.

“We can hang out,” Parker says, starting to sweep again.

“With you and Will?”

She glances up at my eyes, looking just as nervous as I feel. “No, like you and me. Don’t become one of those girls who’s super dependent on her boyfriend, okay?”

I smile, and then she suggests we walk up to the cafeteria to get some ice for my knee.

Later that morning after our swimming session, my group is drying off by the side of the pool. The campers are slapping each other with towels and acting like buffoons.

“Kate,” Matt calls out from beside the pool maintenance closet.

“Can you watch the kids for a minute?” I ask Ian, my co-counselor this week.

A grin stretches across his face. “Nice. The pool shed is a good choice. Not as great as behind the cafeteria—”

“Gross,” I interrupt, making him laugh.

Ian goes back to scolding a boy for slapping girls with his towel. “When you get older,” Ian tells the boy, “these girls will remember that you smacked their butts and won’t want to date you. So stop it!”

Glancing around to make sure Megan isn’t at the pool right now, I zip across the concrete to Matt.

He scans my two-piece bathing suit, smiling, and rests a hand on my shoulder. His thumb grazes my neck as he bends down to whisper in my ear. “I got you something.”

“Oh yeah?”

He reaches for a shelf in the closet and picks up a four-leaf clover. “For you.” Matt gently sets it on top of my ear, like how women sometimes wear tropical flowers.

“Thank you,” I whisper, thinking about how he’s like a four-leaf clover. Something you don’t find often. I’d be stupid to mess things up with him just because he’s in a frat, especially when everything else about him fits just right.

He looks from the clover to my eyes. Based on his smile, which is full of friendship and something more, I doubt he’s thinking of Sunday night. He’s thinking of today. Today and me and not necessarily what’s next, but right now. Maybe he’s right—maybe I can see right through him.

But if that’s true, why didn’t I know about Cabo?

“I love the clover,” I say.

“Maybe in trade you could give me your green beans at lunch today?”

“Absolutely not,” I say with a laugh.

He gives me a mischievous smile. “It was worth a shot.”

“Hey, listen, can we talk?”

His face goes serious, like my voice. “Now?” He looks over my shoulder at the towel fight. Ian practically has this kid in a headlock, trying to stop him from smacking another kid.

“You’re right. Later is good.”

He pulls me into the closet and rubs my stomach, dipping a finger into my bellybutton. “I’ll come by your cabin at midnight.”

I give Matt a smile and go pry Ian off the camper.

“You guys are fast,” Ian teases me.

“Perv.”

By the time midnight rolls around, I’ve bitten my pinky nail down to the quick. If I confront Matt about going to Cabo over the Fourth of July, will he think I’m one of those controlling girlfriends?

I check to make sure the girls are asleep, then slip my feet into flip-flops and pad down the trail to my cookout area. Matt’s already there, playing his guitar. As soon as I walk up, he puts the guitar aside and then lifts me onto the table and stands between my legs. He kisses me deeply, exploring my mouth, his fingers grasping my knees.

“Are you trying to distract me?” I ask, weaving my hands in his hair.

“Is it working?” He kisses me again.

“Yep,” I say, laughing.

“So what’s up?”

“I heard you’re going to Cabo? Parker told me.”

He pulls a deep breath through his nose and hesitates for a second. “I can’t decide if I’m going.”

“What does that mean?” I ask quietly.

“I already paid for it. Before you.” He shuts his eyes. “Before we reconnected—before we started dating.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“I want to spend time with my brothers.” He means his fraternity. He continues, “I’ve always wanted to go surfing. But I don’t want to miss out on a week with you.” We kiss again. His lips are so warm and soft.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I kept meaning to bring it up but wasn’t sure what to tell you…” He shrugs.

“Parker said you probably forgot to tell me because you’re a guy.”

“I take great offense to that. You are in big trouble.”

I try to escape but he wraps me up in his arms. “You’re like a straitjacket,” I say, trying to break free.

“A straitjacket of love.”

I slap his chest. “I can’t believe you just said that. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

Does that mean he loves me?

We are laughing and kissing and then he leans his forehead against mine. I drag my fingers across his lower back, beneath his shirt, and dip my fingers inside his shorts.

“You should go surfing and be with your friends.”

“Being away from you for a week will suck,” he whispers. He goes up my shirt while he kisses me, making me shake all over. My nipple hardens under his touch. My body feels like a rubber band ready to snap.

“Is this okay? Should I stop?” he asks.

The four-leaf clover he gave me pops into my mind. I take a deep breath.

“Don’t stop.”

•••

The next two weeks of camp basically go the same way—during the day I hang out with Parker, and at night, after everyone’s asleep, I spend time with Matt.

Every morning, I pray in the Woodsong Chapel, asking God to give me the strength to keep my hands off Matt. I haven’t let him go further than touching my chest, but it’s getting harder and harder to stop because I want him to touch me, because I care about him so much. And sometimes I get so sad thinking of Emily that Matt notices. He keeps asking, “Where do you go inside that head of yours?”

I can’t tell him. “Nowhere.”

Then he grins a sad, lopsided grin and kisses my cheek.

The good news is that the fun of camp totally distracts me. One afternoon, the girl counselors challenge the guy counselors to a game of Bonzo Ball. Well, all the counselors minus Eric, who decides to lead a small expedition of campers to look for snakes at the lake because he’s still not convinced I saw one.

With a hundred campers surrounding us, cheering and stomping, Parker, Andrea, Carlie, and I take on the guys. Much trash talk ensues.

“You don’t even know what Bonzo Ball is,” Carlie says to Ian, fake sneering.

“I do so know what it is. Don’t you remember me beating you five times last week?”

“Ooooh,” the boy campers say.

Carlie sets a hand on her hip. “I let you win because you always cry when you lose.”

“Ooooh,” the girl campers chorus.

Squatting low to the ground, Andrea slams the ball at Brad’s shins, knocking him out of the game. The girl campers cheer like mad, and I give Andrea a high five. Matt, Will, and Ian fake pout.

“Come on, girls!” a boy camper yells at us. He’s twelve and clearly has the hots for us.

Matt points at the boy. “Oh, you’re so going down, traitor.”

The game comes down to Parker versus Ian, and they totally start showing off, doing fancy jumps in the air and rolling out of the way of the ball. But in the end, Parker manages to hit Ian in the ankle, and us four girls jump up and down, hugging each other. It makes me smile that Andrea and I are getting along, at least in the name of girl power.

Thursday night before our week off, after I’ve said good night prayers with the girls in my cabin, I’m lying with Matt in the big field, staring at the stars.

“Where do you think heaven is?” Matt asks.

“It’s up there,” I say, pointing past the Big Dipper.

Emily said she doesn’t buy any of it anymore. Religion. God. Faith. Before I decided to help Emily get an abortion, my life was just fine. My parents love me. I have a beautiful home. All in all, everything was okay.

Since I sinned, life has been terrible and wonderful. I never had a boyfriend during high school. I didn’t have many friends except for Emily and my soccer team. But after they were taken away, I found out how little I truly had.

Now I have Matt and my heart is brimming with emotions, with something that feels like love, but I’m not ready to tell him that yet. We’ve only been dating a month. Can you feel love in that amount of time?

What if he still loves his ex?

I snuggle against his chest. “No girls in Cabo, understand?”

“No guys in Franklin, understand?”

“I’m being serious,” I tell him, using an exaggerated warning tone.

“You’re in trouble.” He rolls over on top of me and tickles me until I can’t breathe. I’m screaming at him, probably waking up the entire camp. I try to push him off me but he’s too strong. Then his mouth meets mine and for the first time, he rests his fingers on the button of my shorts.

I inhale deeply, grabbing his hand.

He rolls off me, shutting his eyes and rubbing his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push you to move so fast I just get caught up in you—and I—”

I climb on top of him. “I get caught up in you too.”

We move against each other and my mind goes away into nothingness and it’s just our bodies, straining to get closer. My shorts are unbuttoned, unzipped, and so are his. He’s wearing light blue striped boxers that I can’t help wanting to touch. His hand gently grazes me through my shorts and then he runs a finger beneath the elastic of my underwear. That’s when I remember I have on plain white panties. I can’t let him see those. I bet Andrea doesn’t even own white cotton underwear.