Chapter 12

It had been three days since he’d left the house, after I told him about Tati. We tried to hook up, but I just ended up getting pissed off. Instead of talking it out, he acted like a sulky kid, which was one thing I hated about him. I’d known him for years and I could tell: this was gonna drag on forever, or maybe it wouldn’t even last.

My mom was worried about me. I could hear her whispering to my dad in the corners: “I think she fought with her friend…”

What really hurt was knowing he was gonna travel for the holidays. He wouldn’t be back until after New Year’s — that is, if he didn’t decide to show up only at the end of February, when school started. I’d already swallowed it like a breakup, but I was sad. He was my friend, after all, and not even a phone call, not even a text to say: it’s over.

But then, on the third day, the dead guy came back to life.

A message.

“Vee, I’m not traveling with my parents anymore. Wanna come over to my place tomorrow?”

I didn’t know if I was happy or if I wanted to curse him out for leaving me hanging in doubt for three days, so, being the mature one, I went to the back of the house to cry even more.

The next day, I woke up early, changed clothes, and headed out; I barely slept at night. I tried texting him to get ahead of the talk, but he was straight up, saying he wanted to talk in person. I thought: “Shit, he’s gonna officially break up with me!”, but at least he’d be man enough to do it face to face.

I got to his condo, and it was chaos, with kids running all over the place. Some folks looked like they were packing cars for the end-of-year holidays. I went up to his apartment. The truth is, I was trying anything to hide and control the anxiety, which had me shaking like crazy.

When the door opened, there he was, standing with that cute little pouty face he had and a grin like he’d just taken a dump.

“Hi, Vee! Come in!”

I went in quietly, like I was scoping out the place. When he closed the door, he gave me a tight hug that almost crushed me — affectionate like an elephant. I went limp, let myself be hugged. That hug had some sad meaning, whether forgiveness or the end; either way, it was sad for me.

We stayed like that for a long time. He was the one who broke it, just to give me some quick pecks on the lips. I was confused, didn’t know where this was going, and felt a huge knot in my chest.

“Look, babe, I wanted to apologize…”

“Babe?” I said out loud what was supposed to be a thought.

He’d never called me babe before. I knew it was undeniable that we loved each other. We were long-time friends, we lived together, I loved that kid and if it wasn’t mutual he’d be the biggest masochist. But he’d never said he loved me, even because we’d only been together as boyfriend and girlfriend for not even a month.

“You forgive me?” He ignored my question and repeated the request.

“John, did you say you love me?” I asked, still not believing what I’d heard.

“More or less…”

“Fuck, John!” I exploded, unable to hold back. “You leave me fucked up for three days with no contact and tell me you love me? And what do you mean more or less?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. He lowered his eyes, embarrassed, like he didn’t know where to hide his face. I felt the heat rising to my face, a mix of anger and frustration, my chest heavy with all the unanswered questions from those days. He took a deep breath, seemed to be picking his words carefully, but nothing came out. I crossed my arms, impatient, waiting for him to have the guts to say something that made sense. When he finally opened his mouth, his voice came out low:

“I know I was an asshole… and you have every right to be mad at me.”

“Ah, good!” I shot back, sarcastic. “At least you know that, huh?”

He took a step forward, like he wanted to touch me, but hesitated. I stood still, not knowing if I wanted to hit him or cry.

“I was confused, Vee…” he said, his voice breaking. “But you did something I didn’t like at all, I’m just terrible at dealing with that stuff.”

I took a step back, I couldn’t put all the blame on him, I’d given him reason too.

“Okay, man. Let’s get straight, alright? Next time we talk everything out, got it?”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be good, but I get your side. I did some research, talked to some people, read stuff online and saw that I shouldn’t get mad before talking to you!”

That was him. Probably, knowing his ways well, he’d come up with a million theories about the situation. I was sure that if I looked around the house, I’d find one of those detective boards, full of notes and connections scribbled with colored strings. He stewed over it as much as I did — maybe even worse. He was always anxious and carried a constant fear of rejection because of his quirky ways.

“Okay, but that love thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You mean you love me?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh… yeah…”

“Awwwww!!!” I let out, laughing. “I love you too, you dummy!”

He rolled his eyes, trying to hold back the laugh.

“You gotta insult me in the same sentence you say you love me?”

“Of course! It’s part of the package, honey.” I gave him a light punch on the arm.

He smiled, that crooked smile that made me forget any grudge. A tight hug and a heart a whole lot lighter.