Regret List (13 page)

“Come on,” Asher said tiredly, dragging me to my feet
and out of the room.

“I think she’s had enough!” Terrance yelled behind me
and he and Caden burst out laughing. I heard their bedroom door
shut and knew I was officially out of the party. Now, this is where
my memory gets a little hazy, but here’s what I remember:

Asher led me to his bed, where I promptly toppled
over and stared listlessly at him. He set the glass of water on his
nightstand and sat down at his computer, glancing over at me
occasionally. I was shaking uncontrollably at that point, and
things started to get a bit…weird. See, I couldn’t keep a single
thought going for more than a second, which was unbearably
confusing and disorienting. I slowly became convinced that life was
just a dream and I was ascending to a timeless place where I would
be tortured like this forever. It was either that, or I was dying.
Or had already died. Like I said, I was totally confused and
absolutely miserable.

The scariest part was when I decided the only way to
move on from this timeless state was to prove that life was a
dream. I had to do something crazy. I focused for a moment on
Asher, who was playing a computer game and muttering to himself as
he clicked madly. Could I strangle him? That was definitely
something unexpected. I could probably do it, and that was
definitely crazy enough to prove this was a dream. I started to sit
up, but fortunately, my lethargy was overwhelming and I didn’t get
any farther. Instead, I focused on something closer: my glass of
water. With a sense of triumph, I knocked it over, splattering
water onto the floor.

With a scowl, Asher jumped up and rummaged through
his laundry hamper. “Clean that up!” he yelled, throwing a dirty
t-shirt at me. When I just stared at him, not quite understanding,
he dropped down to the floor and sopped up the water himself,
tossing the wet t-shirt at me when he was finished. “Moron.”

His anger startled me slightly and started to bring
me back to my senses. As time passed, I slowly became aware that I
had to pee. Stumbling to my feet, I walked toward the bathroom,
slumped against the wall to keep myself upright. When I finally
reached the bathroom, I locked myself inside, but caught sight of
my reflection in the mirror on my way to the toilet. I was kind of
surprised it still looked like me. I certainly didn’t feel anything
like myself. I touched the mirror and leaned closer. Now, you might
think I’m a little crazy if I tell you the next part, but I guess
that’s the risk I have to take.

“Are you still there, Paige?” I whispered.

“I’m still here,” I heard my voice return in my head.
“Just relax. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

That’s what I mean when I said I felt like I was
leading a double life. There was outer-Paige, who looked like me,
but didn’t feel like me. She was never too busy to hang out with
Jason and spent all her energy trying to make him happy. That Paige
was just playing at being an adult, just like when I was 12. Then
there was inner-Paige, who didn’t really want a boyfriend and felt
increasingly uncomfortable with how things were progressing. All I
really wanted to do was work on the book and hang out with Asher
and play in the snow. Instead, on Christmas Eve, I went to
church.

That’s right: church. The church I hadn’t been to
since I was ten years old.

The morning of the day before Christmas, I was curled
up in bed, writing. The boy of our book was still telling the girl
about his life, but the stories had taken a sudden shift, as
everything he knew had come to ruin when the wizard’s armies
destroyed his town and killed his family. When the girl, who had
considered freeing the boy and running away with him, finally
learned the truth, she asked him why he hadn’t killed her. If he
had killed her before she screamed for back-up, he might have been
able to get further in the fortress and perhaps even kill the
wizard. When she asked him this time, he looked at her sadly and
replied, “Because you didn’t deserve to die.”

Tossing a raisin in my mouth and reading over what I
had written, I nearly ignored my phone as it began to vibrate on my
nightstand. These days, the only one who bothered to call was
Jason, but when I looked at the screen, I didn’t recognize the
number. Worried that it might be Grace, I picked it up and
answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi Paige!” It was Jason.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t recognize your number,” I replied,
trying to drum up some enthusiasm.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m on my dad’s phone right now. I
forgot mine at home.”

“Where are you?” I asked, wincing as the mention of
his dad. Since that first time I had met him, I had managed to
avoid further contact.

“We’re eating brunch and I was just talking about
you,” I further scrunched up my face, “and I was thinking maybe
you’d like to come to church with us tonight.”

Going to church with Jason and his dad was possibly
the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn’t think of a single
excuse. My mom would be at church as well and maybe it would be a
good way to introduce her to the fact that I had a boyfriend. I was
almost positive that she wouldn’t recognize the Stromsen family
either. I hoped she wouldn’t, anyway. “Yeah, sure, I could do
that,” I said after a pause. “I’ll be with my mom, so I’ll meet you
there.”

“Great!” I could practically hear him grinning. “I’ll
see you tonight. Love you.” He hung up before I could answer.

Love you?
I stared at the phone for a moment.
Love? I did a quick count on my fingers. We had first kissed at the
bowling alley in late September. Now here it was, late December.
Three months? Was that normal? Was it just a casual goodbye, or did
he really mean it? I sighed and flopped backwards on the bed. I
wished I could ask Asher for help, but he had begun completely
closing up every time I mentioned Jason’s name.

It was with great trepidation that I sought out my
mom and told her that someone had invited me to go to church that
evening. I knew the conversation that was coming. “Hey, Mom?” I
stuck my head around the corner of the kitchen to find her putting
away the dishes.

“Yeah, hon?”

“Do you mind if I tag along to church tonight? I kind
of got invited by someone.” My guts were churning by this
point.

Suddenly, I had her full attention as she set down
the bowls she had been stacking. “Oh? And who would this be?”

I tried to look nonchalant and failed miserably.
“Just this guy from school.”

“And is he a friend? Or
more
than a friend?”
Yeah, that’s the line I was dreading.

I moaned loudly. “Mom, really?” She stared at me,
awaiting my answer. “More than a friend,” I mumbled.

“And what’s his name?” she asked, clasping her hands
together.

“Jason. But look Mom, it’s not a big deal!” Her eyes
brightened further, probably because I had named someone other than
Asher.

I honestly think my mom was more excited than I was
to go to church that evening. Well, I suppose that’s really not
saying much, since I was more nervous than anything, especially
about Jason’s dad. Although I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to
blurt out the truth or anything, I wasn’t sure how he would act
around us. It turns out, Jason’s dad wasn’t the one I should have
been worrying about. Let me explain.

When we got to church that evening, I saw Jason and
his dad standing near the front, talking with Pastor Robbins. My
stomach lurched when I saw all three of them together. I hadn’t
seen the pastor since way back when I quit the choir. In that
moment, I started to realize: surely the pastor knew who Jason and
I were. I wasn’t at all sure if he would keep my secret, especially
if he didn’t even realize it
was
a secret. I dragged my mom
quickly over to the small group, hoping to intercept the
conversation.

“Hey Jason,” I said as we neared.

Jason beamed at me and I breathed a quiet sigh of
relief. There was no way he would be smiling if he knew. “Hi
Paige!” He stuck his hand out to my mom. “Nice to finally meet you.
I’m Jason.”

As the two Stromsens and my mom were introduced, I
sidled over to the pastor. He laid a hand down on my shoulder and I
felt instantly smaller, like I was ten years old again.
“Friendships spark up in the most unexpected of places,” he said.
“I am so pleased to see you two together.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it. He didn’t sound
like he was conspiring to withhold my secret from Jason, but he
didn’t sound threatening either. As my chest constricted, I
realized the depth of my deception. He didn’t realize that Jason
was in the dark about it all, but he couldn’t very well come out
and say: “Hey kid, I’m glad you befriended the daughter of your
mom’s murderer.” He was the kind of guy who would only talk in
vague sincerities, like he was doing with me. He had probably said
something very similar to Jason. But the rest of the congregation -
my eyes glazed over as I looked around the packed church – would
they be so ambiguous?

Someone I didn’t recognize walked up to our group as
the pastor departed. She was around my mom’s age, with an enormous
purse and badly-dyed red hair. Her watery blue eyes lit up when she
saw Jason and me. “Well, I never!” She put her hands to her mouth.
“It’s a Christmas miracle!”

I suspected she had come straight from a Christmas
party and was treading the line between tipsy and drunk, but I
nearly choked at Jason’s confused expression. “Excuse me?” he
asked.

She threw her arms around us. “It truly is a time for
forgiveness!” I realized I was right: her breath stunk of alcohol.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I tried to think of a way to
extricate ourselves from the situation.

Fortunately, my mom took over and politely unwound
the woman’s arm from my shoulders and put herself in between us.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sure they appreciate your warm wishes.”

I looked desperately at the clock overhead and wished
the pastor would hurry up and start the service. There he was,
smiling politely down at all of us while we mingled.
Say
something
, I wished fiercely.
Hurry up and make everyone sit
down!

Another woman walked up and stared at the two of us
for a moment, probably trying to make sure she recognized us
correctly. To make matters worse, Jason took that moment to grab my
hand and lean in closer. “I am so glad you came tonight,
Paige.”

I nodded distractedly. “Uh-huh.” The woman seemed to
not know what to say and wandered off. I saw a couple others
further back pointing in our direction and conversing close
together. A man walked by and looked at Jason’s dad in
surprise.

“Why, I didn’t realize Jason knew Paige,” he said to
us, looking a little less warmly in my direction.

Jason’s dad raised an eyebrow at him, straightening
his glasses. “Well, they are in the same grade. I’d be surprised if
they didn’t know each other.”

The man looked a little less comfortable and shifted
his weight. “Well, I suppose that’s true. Merry Christmas,
then.”

“Merry Christmas.”

I sent Jason’s dad a thankful expression, but he
turned away. For better or for worse, he seemed dedicated to
keeping my secret. I saw a few others making their way in our
direction, but Pastor Robbins took that moment to tap the
microphone and start the service. We sat and Jason tapped my leg,
giving me a confused look. I realized that I had knit my hands
tightly together in my lap, preventing him from holding my hand.
Pretending not to understand his look, I kept my hands there,
winding them even tighter. It felt like the longest service of my
life, even longer than my dad’s funeral.

It didn’t help when halfway through the evening, the
microphone went out and Pastor Robbins shouted out over the crowd
that he scheduled us an intermission. As a couple guys vaulted up
on stage to try and get it sorted out, Jason turned to me and
brought up the worst conversation topic possible.

“Christmas is always hard for us,” he explained,
lowering his voice a little. “You know what I mean?”

I knew exactly what he meant and only hoped my mom
didn’t overhear and start to put the pieces together. “Yeah.”

“My mom died in November, but Christmas actually
seems worse than that day, sometimes.”

How could I not respond to that? Taking the chance
that my mom might overhear, I nodded. “I know what you mean. The
commercials are the worst.”

He grinned, although he still looked kind of sad.
“Yeah. And the movies! What’s that one they play 24/7?”

“It’s A Wonderful Life?” I asked.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. My mom let me
stay up late the year before she was killed and we watched that
movie together. I swear I’ll never be able to watch it again.” It
almost made me glad that I didn’t have any memories of my dad. What
would it be like to go through life, constantly and unexpectedly
reminded of him, of times we shared together? I finally unclasped
my hands and slid my fingers between his. “I think this is the best
Christmas Eve I’ve had since she died,” he confessed. “Thanks.”

I opened my mouth, not sure what to say, but the
sound of the pastor’s voice suddenly boomed out through the church
and everyone turned back toward him, the conversations dying down.
If I make him so happy, why do I feel so guilty?

At midnight, when we all sang together to celebrate,
I feigned a headache in order to get out of there quicker and avoid
any other curious onlookers. Jason lightly kissed my cheek, our
parents waved their goodbyes, and I rushed out of the church,
thankful that I had made it one more day without being discovered.
During the car ride home, my mom cleared her throat suddenly.
“Merry Christmas, Paige,” she said.

“Merry Christmas,” I replied, yawning.