Again (21 page)

Carter

Instead
of going to my classes on Thursday, I got in my Jeep and drove up the snowy
thruway to the University of Albany. The day was gray, the ground covered in
white. If my father had taught me anything it was that money can buy everything,
even the location of someone who probably hoped never
to be found.

Even
the whereabouts of someone whose departure your father had basically paid for.

It
was scary how easy it was to find Jeanie. I called my father’s lawyer and asked
if he knew of any private investigators. I had a name in minutes and Jeanie’s
address in two days. It’s not like she was in the witness protection program,
but it still seemed insanely wrong to me. I found her simply because I had the
money.

I
didn’t tell anyone where I was going, especially not Tristan. I let myself
believe it was because I was trying to keep her identity a secret, rather than
the fear I would chicken out.

My
mind wandered as I drove. I hadn’t seen Jeanie since she left three years ago. I
probably should have let her be, but after what happened with Kate, I needed to
see her. She needed to know I was sorry.

It
was the only thing that might allow me to finally leave what I’d done, what I
hadn’t done, behind.

Clearly,
I had always been sorry, but that wasn’t enough.

It
definitely wasn’t enough if I ever wanted to be with someone again—if I ever
wanted to try to be with Kate again.

I
turned to the empty passenger seat. It chilled me as if I’d had the window
rolled down and biting cold air was thrashing through the car. I’d gotten used
to Kate there. Heaviness thrust my stomach down as I pictured her affectionate
smile. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever see it again.

I
reached Albany at noon. The sun would have been high in the sky if it had been
a summer day. I had two addresses for Jeanie: her campus apartment and the
diner where she worked.

I
headed to the diner first. It was a place right off the interstate with a neon sign
illuminated even during the day. I parked the car and glanced at the tall
windows. They were steamed up, but I could tell the place was packed for lunch.
I was glad. Apologizing to Jeanie with at least fifty people as witnesses was
what
she
deserved.

I
walked inside, the door dinging, and took one of the empty seats at the
counter. It was one of those places fabricated to appear vintage, frozen in
time at 1950-something. It still had a soda fountain menu hanging behind the
counter and a jukebox playing the kind of music you sock-hopped to. The waitresses
wore pink wrap dresses with black triangle aprons and name tags.

Instead
of picking up the menu on my place setting I continued to search the restaurant.
It took me a minute, but I finally found Jeanie. She stood at the end of the counter
wiping a spill. She looked different, thinner, and her hair was boy-short
styled for a girl, but it was definitely her.

She
walked over when she noticed me with my hands folded on top of my menu. Her
nametag said Jean, but it was her.

“Can
I get you some coffee while you’re deciding?” she asked, like I was any other
customer.

Why wouldn’t she think I was?
I
wasn’t wearing a name tag. It had been three years.
Why would she recognize
me at all?
Even if she kind of did, she definitely wouldn’t expect me to be
here.

I’d
have to be ridiculous to be here.

“Sure,
coffee’s fine,” I said, trying to figure out how to start, how to come out and
say what I’d driven an hour to say.

Hey how have you been? I’m one of the assholes from the night
three years ago who forced you to transfer here.

She
poured my coffee.

I
took a deep breath and jumped. “I’m actually here to see you.”

She
looked me, waited a beat. “Why?”

“I’m
Carter Blackwood.” Even if she didn’t recognize me she would definitely
recognize my name.

Her
skin went as pale as the creamer sitting next to my coffee.

“You
shouldn’t be here,” she said, her body so tight, so straight, it appeared like
it might crack. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 “Don’t
worry,” I said, because she seemed worried. Not like I had a right to tell her
how to feel about anything. “I just wanted to talk to you,” I continued,
speaking fast before she could walk away.

“You
ever hear of a phone?” she asked, holding tight to the coffee thermos.

“I
needed to see to you in person,” I said, leaning my hands against the counter,
trying to keep myself still. Afraid if I moved too much she might run away.
Afraid if I didn’t hold on I would fall.

“For
you or for me?” she huffed.

I
didn’t respond. Her question only had one answer and it was the wrong one.

“You
should leave.” She stepped back from me.

“I
just came to apologize. To tell you how sorry I am. I never got a chance to.”

“So,
you waited three years?” she laughed angrily. “What changed?”

“Nothing,”
I said. Though, I had, everything had. I needed to be a better person for Kate.
But considering how much I was upsetting Jeanie, I didn’t feel like one.

“I
have a new life here. I am going to graduate this semester. Why would you do
this now?”

“I
wanted you to know,” I said. “You deserve it,” I added, but there was no doubt
I was being selfish. I wasn’t here for her. I was here for me.

I
was here for Kate.

I
felt vile, my stomach as nauseous as it had ever been. My throat was dry. I
tried to make myself swallow and it burned like fire. “I’m sorry,” I said, finally
saying the words I’d come here to say, but I was saying them for a different
reason. I was apologizing for even being here. It didn’t matter. She deserved
to hear those words again and again, anyway.

“You
need to leave,” she said. “I’m never going to forgive you. I’ve already
forgotten
you.”

“I’m
glad,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how sorry I was.” I
swallowed again, tasting sourness. I was such a dick.

“Oh,”
she said, her eyes slits, realizing she had me on the ropes, “Am I supposed to
feel okay now? I don’t need you for that.”

“I
know,” I said, because I had to say something.

“I’ve
done that on my own,” she continued, her words barreling against mine, proving
she didn’t need my words. “Not all girls are broken and not all guys are
strong.”

“You’re
right,” I stammered, “I’m not strong. I—”

“Enough.”
She shook her head, straightened her stance. “If you’re searching for
absolution, forgive yourself.” She walked away from the counter and into the
kitchen before I could respond, not like I could, the door swinging in her wake.

I
stared at the steaming coffee in the cup she’d left behind. She was right. I
didn’t need to bother her to do that. I didn’t need to come here and remind her
about everything she’d put behind her.

I
needed to be able to admit what I’d done. I had to own it and then let it go. I
wouldn’t ever be able to completely, but I needed to start living my life.

If Jeanie
was strong enough to, what right did I have to wallow in the past?

If
Kate was ever willing to talk to me again, ever willing to forgive me, I needed
to tell her what I’d done.

That
was the first step.

Kate

I’d been holding my phone like it was a
grenade all day. When Veronica finally texted she was on the front portico of
my dorm waiting to be let in, the pin had been pulled.

At least she didn’t come to my room and surprise
me. At least, I could control when she would blow.

I headed down in the elevator trying to
mentally prepare myself for the explosion of her presence. What I loved about Veronica
was that she caused a scene wherever she went. It was also what I hated about
her. You know the cliché about librarians when they take off their glasses
after hours and become vixens—they got nothing on accountants.

They got even less on accountants named
Veronica.

I took a deep breath as the elevator
opened, checking both ways as I stepped out like I was crossing the street. I
hadn’t seen Carter in days and I definitely didn’t want to begin Veronica’s
visit being forced to introduce them. Where the hell would I even start?

Veronica’s silhouette was striking
through the big front windows. She stood on the stoop with her carry-on
suitcase at her side, dressed in jeans and a tight black fleece, typing into
her phone.

Even from far away she looked amazing.
Like I imagined Cleopatra, except where Veronica was concerned every guy was Marc
Antony.

I took in the size of her bag. I was
pretty sure she’d followed my advice and left her expensive suits at home.

So far, so good.

I threw the door open and bounded over
to her. I’d missed her, but I hadn’t realized how much until she was standing
there.

“Hey, sis,” I hugged her close.

“This is so bizarre,” she laughed.

“Just play along, we’re in public. We
can talk about that later,” I said into her shoulder. I smelled her perfume.
The truly expensive kind, the kind college kids couldn’t even dream of
affording. Something with layers forcing your mind to wander to beaches, lilies,
and burning buildings. That you still smelled of in the morning underneath
smoke and alcohol and whoever you’d slept with.

“So good to see my little sister,” Veronica
replied, loud enough so people would overhear. “Did you make me a cheat sheet
or anything?” she whispered against my cheek. “I was kind of drunk when you
told me what I needed to remember.”

I shook my head. I suppose I could have
sent her one, but putting all my lies in writing would have made me feel worse
about them than I did already.

As long as she stayed sober she’d
hopefully keep repeating everything I said. Like me, Veronica had two
personalities, Veronica and Veronica when she was drunk. Drunk Veronica could be
equally the most entertaining person you’d ever hung out with and someone you
wanted to kill.

Our Mr. Hydes loved Riesling.

We stepped inside the lobby. I tried to
hurry her to the elevator, but what was the point? She was here for the next
five days. There was no rushing that.

“Oh my god,” she whispered above the
sound of the wheels of her suitcase grinding linoleum, “this is like the real
deal, with crappy furniture and save the world flyers and everything.”

I nodded sharply. “I told you I was
living in a dorm.”

“Sorry,” she said, realizing she’d been
scolded. “I haven’t been somewhere like this in a while. I’ll try to keep my
observations to myself.”

We got into the elevator and headed
upstairs. At least I could control her for now. I used what might be our only
private time for the next few hours to start briefing her.

She used it to swat at me and exclaim,
“I can’t fucking believe you’re really doing this.”

“I told you on the phone…” I started.
There was an edge to my voice from having to keep repeating myself.

“But seeing you, seeing this,” she
interrupted, indicating the elevator around us. “You’re really here.”

I exhaled, remembering I could relax
around her. She was the one person who wouldn’t judge me. “Yeah, I’m still here
and people still believe me.”

“It’s wild,” she said. Her dark eyes
blazed. “I mean, you look young but this is like performance art.”

“It’s also my life,” I replied.

I didn’t have to hide my old self with
Veronica around, but with her in front of me it was never clearer that college-take-two
was real to Kate now. The world Veronica had come from was the fake one.

“Right,” Veronica said rolling her eyes,
“Tough life.”

“Whatever,” I said, sounding like the
college kid I’d become, “While you’re here I’d just like to try and keep it
that way.”

“Also maybe hang with your best friend
who you haven’t seen in almost a month.” She sneered, leaning against the wall of
the elevator.

“Sorry,” I said, hugging her, “Of
course.”

She sniffed my hair and pushed me away.
“What is that, Suave or something? You even smell like you’re a college student.”

“I’m on the budget of one, too.”

She smirked. If she had one of those waxy
moustaches she would have twirled it. “Maybe I should come back to college. I
can smell like cheap shampoo and dress like my closet is my floor.”

How could I blame her? Sure, being here
was a mess of emotions, but I was also getting to feel them all over again,
live them all over again.

“Let’s try making it through one night
first,” I said quickly.

“Fine,” she said with a fake salute, “big
sis reporting for duty.”

I took her by the shoulders. “Now you’re
going to meet my roommate,” I paused, watching her night-dark eyes, “Please,
please, try and be nice.”

“When am I not nice?”

Veronica wasn’t mean, but she lived in
the city. It made you react to stimuli in a way other people didn’t. The first
few years in New York you might be embarrassed and ignore some guy who wasn’t
wearing pants on the subway. But three years in, you were embarrassing him and
making him wish he could ignore you.

“Well…” I gathered my thoughts, “she’s a
little abrasive. So even if you feel like being bitchy to her, don’t.”

“I love how you assume bitch is my
neutral.”

“It’s not you.”

“Why are you so worried about her?”

I shrugged but didn’t say
she’s my only
friend here now
.

When we walked in the room, Dawn was on
her bed with her earbuds in. Her music was so loud I could practically see it
busting out. She ignored us, picking up a book and covering her face with it,
like she hadn’t noticed us.

“This room is smaller than my studio,”
Veronica said, spinning around in the so-not- massive space. “For once I
actually have a better living situation than someone.”

I glared at her, my look screaming
no
talking about real life.

“This is my sister,” I yelled at Dawn.

Dawn put down her book. She turned but
didn’t wave. She didn’t even blink before she went back to reading.

“Wow,” Veronica whispered in my ear, “is
she alive?”

“Be nice,” I scolded.

“I can’t be anything if she won’t even
look at me,” Veronica said loudly, staring at Dawn.

“Let’s sit,” I indicated my bed.

She bounced on the mattress next to me,
nodding her chin in Dawn’s direction. “She kind of looks familiar.”

“Don’t even say you’ve see her in that
movie about a teenage vampire in love with a girl who everyone names their
daughters and dogs after now,” I gritted through my teeth.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” She
stifled a laugh. “She really does look familiar, though,” she said, continuing
to stare at her. 

“Where the hell would you have seen her
before?” I whispered.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I can’t
help it if I recognize her.”

“Whatever,” I said, waving her statement
away. “Keep your neutral on nice.”

She leaned in, ignoring me. “So where
are we going to drink first?”

“You mean like a party?”

“Or we could go to a bar.”

“I’m underage, remember.” I mouthed,
I
don’t drink anymore.

“Fine,” she sighed, pulling at a string
coming loose on my comforter, “then where am
I
going to drink first?”

This was going to be a lot harder than I
thought.