Boys Like You

Jesus. I handed over a five-dollar bill. I gave a noncommittal nod that she could take whatever way she wanted. Was she ever going to shut up?

“That’s gotta suck,” she said.

My head shot up, not really understanding her angle or her need to talk about my social life. “Why the hell do you care?” I said sharply.

Surprise widened her eyes and she stammered like an idiot. “You know, uh, because she doesn’t live around here. I mean, she’s going back to wherever it is she’s from, isn’t she? New York, I think someone said? And well, if you guys are together, then you won’t really be together anymore and…”

Right.

“Thanks for pointing that out.”

It’s not like I hadn’t thought about it every damn night for at

least a week. Monroe’s parents were coming in a few days and then…well, then she was going home and I had no idea how I was going to survive without her.

Pissed off, I grabbed my stuff from the counter and turned around without answering.

I turned around and nearly ran over Trevor’s mom.

Holy. Shit. I wasn’t ready for this.

She was even thinner than when I’d seen her at the hospital, and trust me, Trevor’s mom was already skinny; she didn’t need to lose weight. The purple dress she wore looked like it was two sizes too big.

Her eyes were sunken, kind of like the skin around them was too thin and bruised, and I glanced away because there’s no way I could look into them. Jesus, it felt like someone had just punched me in the gut.

I couldn’t see her pain. Not now.

My chest made this weird whooshing sound, like air had just been let out of a tire.

I think my heart stopped. Or maybe it was just the weird sensation of my stomach rolling end over end before falling all the way to the floor.

My fingertips started to tingle, and black dots flickered before my eyes.

“Nate, you don’t look so good.” Brenda Lewis watched me closely, her thin lips trembling, her hands running up and down her thighs nervously.

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t say a damn thing, because my tongue was stuck at the back of my throat and those spots flickering in front of my eyes made it hard to concentrate.

“Shit,” I said, shaking my head to try and stop the roaring in my ears. What the hell was wrong with me? “I’m sorry,” I managed to say, though I wasn’t sure she heard me. Or maybe the words had only echoed inside my head.

“Come with me,” she said.

She touched me, her hand strangely cool and smooth on my skin, and I let her lead me out of the store.

I don’t think my heart slowed down until we walked a few feet and stopped near a bench cemented into the sidewalk underneath an oak tree.

The shade wasn’t dark enough and I wished that it were nighttime, because the shadows were thicker, easier to hide inside.

I didn’t know what to do, so I popped open my Coke and took a sip, my eyes on the sidewalk, on the cracks that spread out like spidery fingers. The square I looked at was fractured. It was broken and in bad need of repair. Kind of like me.

Kind of like Trevor.

“Nate,” she said softly. “Look at me.”

I can’t.

But I did.

“I’ve been calling your cell all morning.”