Dreams of 18

“Really?”

“Yeah, trust me. I’m over it. I’m not in the same place.”

I grab it as a lifeline. I grab it with both hands and breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s big, huge. I almost dissolve in the bed. “Oh, thank God. Thank. God. You have no idea how relieved I am. Gosh. I got so scared for a second.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I heard that.”

I go to smile but then I remember something. Something he said before I got all sidetracked.

“Did you just say that you’ve been acting like an asshole to your dad? Why’d you say that?”

He goes all silent and I don’t know what to think.

All I know is that something bad is coming. Even worse than when he said he wanted to ask me out. Although, for the life of me I can’t imagine what it could be.

“Bri? Why did you say that?”

“Because he likes you too.”

I’ve never been shot before. I don’t know what it feels like to have a tiny bullet, traveling at the speed of sound, hit your body.

I imagine it’s jarring, to say the least.

I imagine it’s painful. It’s shocking. It makes your bones rattle and it makes your breaths fall out of your lungs. It makes a hole in your body.

That’s what it feels like right now.

Like I’ve been shot and I don’t know how it happened and I don’t know what to do next.

“What?”

I’ve barely said it; my voice is thin as paper, thinner, even. But my best friend hears it.

“Yeah, he does. He wants you. I asked him point blank that night and I could read it on his face. I could see it. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. It was all there. He looked so guilty. So fucking tormented over it.”

He wants me.

Mr. Edwards wants me.

The man who hates me, the man whose life I ruined. The man I’ve had feelings for ever since I was sixteen wants me.

“He wants me?” I breathe out.

“Yeah. And the things I said to him for that. The things I put him through.”

He utters those words on a sigh, a regretful sigh.

“W-what did you say?”

“I told him he ruined my life. I told him that he betrayed me for wanting the girl I want. That I hated him. That he’s a fucking pervert for wanting a girl his son’s age. When he lost his job, I told him he deserved it. When the article came out and they called him all those names, I… I did too. I called him sick, a pedophile. Fuck…”

He pauses to draw a breath before starting up again. “He never said a word, Vi. Not once. He took it all. All my tantrums and hatred and disgust. God, I don’t even know what to say to him now. I feel so wrecked over it. We were always so close and now we haven’t seen each other in almost a year. We don’t talk. I don’t know how to talk to him. I don’t know what to say and how to make it go away and…”

Brian says a lot of things, but I don’t hear any of them because I finally understand. I get it now. I get Mr. Edwards’s anger, his hatred, all the drinking.

His roses.

I even understand about the roses. The flowers he grew to cure his loneliness when his dad was sick.

I understand why it doesn’t feel like he hates me anymore.

Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t hate me.

If he did, he wouldn’t have asked Brian to talk to me. He wouldn’t have asked his son to stop punishing me.

No, he doesn’t hate me. He hates himself. He’s punishing himself.

Because he thinks he’s betrayed his son.

He thinks he’s betrayed his son for wanting me. He hates himself for wanting what his son wanted.

Oh God, he hates himself.

I grip the phone so tightly and press it so hard against my ear that it should be painful and maybe it is, but I don’t feel anything right now except this urge to make Brian understand.

“Brian, you need to talk to him,” I cut him off. “You need to talk to your dad. He’s not… He’s not in a good place, Bri. He’s not doing okay. He lives out here, in this cabin, all alone. He used to drink up until a week ago, did you know that?”

“What?”

“Yeah. You need to fix it. You need to tell him that you don’t hate him. You don’t even like me anymore. You need to tell him that. He’s heartbroken, Brian. God, he’s so… he’s heartbroken. He’s in pain. He hates himself. Do you realize that? How could you do that to him? He’s your father. How could you call him all those names? You’re his son. You guys were best friends. You were supposed to stand beside him when everything happened. He doesn’t deserve your condemnation. He doesn’t deserve your hatred, you got that? Promise me you’ll fix it. Promise me, Brian.”