Regret List (17 page)

“Oh, she works like three jobs,” Grace explained,
opening the front door for me. “She’ll be back in a few hours to
eat dinner and get a few hours of sleep.”

“And your dad?” I ventured.

Her eyes looked blank. “He’s in jail.” She watched me
carefully for my reaction.

I just nodded and stepped outside. “Well, you know my
phone number if you need anything.”

She raised a hand in farewell, then called after me,
“Hey, remember what I said before. When things get too complicated,
come find me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay.” I hauled my bike upright and hopped on,
pushing hard to get home before the night took over. Or maybe I was
pushing hard to get home to where it was bright and warm and maybe
not happy, but at least it felt safe. Regret #3 on my list:
Ignoring all the signs that something was really, really wrong – it
wasn’t just about Grace anymore, I realized. I felt responsible for
that little unborn baby, too. I didn’t want him growing up in that
cold, dusty house that everyone had abandoned except for Grace.

It was strange, seeing how much Grace had changed. I
guess it was the baby. She had to be strong now, for him. As the
cold wind streaked through my hair, blowing it in long, red tangles
behind me, I worried that I would end up like her someday. Maybe we
would have a bigger house, somewhere cozy and warm, but someday I
would end up with a baby in my belly, feeling all alone except for
that little life inside of me. With every day that passed and I
felt stranger and more uneasy with Jason, I knew I wasn’t going to
learn to love him. That kind of thing just can’t be forced, no
matter how hard you try. But then I reminded myself: it wasn’t my
job to love him, it was my job to make him happy.

My tears streaked back, forced by the wind to the
sides of my face and I tried to convince myself that it was just
the cold air, but deep down, I knew better. I also knew it was
going to get worse before it got better.

Someone unexpected contacted me soon after that:
Caden. I was eating lunch in my usual spot when I saw a shadow out
of the corner of my eye and heard him sink down next to me. “Hey,”
I said, noticing the awkward way he sat with a large empty space
between us, probably embarrassed to be seen with a freshman.

“Hey.” He watched me eat for a few moments, then
rustled around unhappily. “What in the world is going on with you?”
he asked finally.

“Uhhh,” I looked around. “I’m eating lunch?”

He gave me a cross look and rubbed at the floor with
his untied shoe. “No, you’re like, having some sort of issue with
Asher. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you’d better
fix things with him soon.”

I stared at him, wondering what he was getting at.
“Are you trying to help?”

He climbed to his feet and stared down at me, his
messy hair lit up by the fluorescent lights. “No, I’m trying to
warn you.” And then he stalked off, hands deep in his pockets.

“Very weird,” I mumbled, stuffing the last of my
sandwich in my mouth as the bell rang. I wasn’t sure what Caden was
trying to warn me about, but it worried me. For the rest of the
day, I wondered what could be going on with Asher. I even waited at
his locker at the end of the day, hoping I could finally talk to
him and clear the air, but he only glanced at me, grabbed his
books, and hurried off.

“Hey!” I protested, dashing after him.

“What?” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and I
had to dodge to avoid it.

“I just-“ I wasn’t sure what to say. “We haven’t
talked in a while.” He was walking way too fast and we were already
exiting the building. “I just wanted to know what’s up.” He didn’t
pause or even look at me. “Here!” I thrust the notebook in front of
him and he took it wordlessly. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” I tried to
act cheerful, like nothing was wrong, even as I stopped and watched
him walk away without even saying goodbye.

There was only one time before that even came close
to the way we were acting. Back in elementary school, we had a big
disagreement. It’s going to sound so stupid now, but it was a big
deal back then, and it went on for weeks. See, I used to have this
giant orange goldfish, Mr. Sparkle. I loved that big guy. When my
mom and I went on vacation to California during spring break, Asher
and his mom house-sat for us and took care of the mail, the plants,
and of course, Mr. Sparkle. By the end of the trip, I was
sunburned, hungry, and exhausted, and I whined the entire car ride
home.

My mom was totally fed up with me, but when we
finally pulled up to our house, we saw Asher’s mom’s car was
already there. They were probably taking care of a few last things
before we arrived. My mom warned me to mind my manners, but telling
a cranky eight-year-old not to be mean is like telling a fire not
to burn. That’s just what they do. We walked into the house and it
was obvious Asher was excited to see me, but all I wanted was to be
left alone.

With Asher trailing behind me, I went to my bedroom
to put my bags down. I think he was asking me how my trip was, but
something caught my eye as I threw everything down on my bed. Mr.
Sparkle was floating upside-down in his little bowl. I threw an
accusing finger at Asher. “You…you killed Mr. Sparkle!” I hollered,
stomping my feet. Before you start laughing, let me remind you:
This was only a little over a year after my dad died and I still
didn’t deal with death very well. Asher just froze in the doorway,
not daring to move, but I saw his eyes flick to the bowl. “You
see?” I scooped the poor fish out of his bowl and held him out to
Asher. “You murdered him!”

“I-I didn’t!” he protested. “I fed him and
everything!”

“How much?” I yelled, plopping Mr. Sparkle back in
his bowl, where he slowly spun in the ripples. “Show me how much
you fed him!”

Hesitantly, Asher took the fish food and pulled out a
pinch, showing it to me. “See?”

Our parents must have heard the commotion, because as
I hit his hand, sending the fish food fluttering to the floor, I
heard my mom gasp. “Paige!”

But I wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot. “You’re
nothing but a fat, stupid loser!” I bellowed, shoving Asher.

“That’s it!” My mom grabbed me by the arm, hauling me
backward, apologizing profusely to Asher and his mom. Asher still
looked stunned, eyes wide. I was in a total frenzy then, throwing
everything to the floor that I could get my hands on. His mom just
quietly led him away and I heard their car back out of the
driveway. My mom tried to grab the fish bowl and take it away, but
I screamed and clung onto it, spilling all the water and Mr.
Sparkle to the floor.

Exasperated, my mom left the room, closing the door
behind her as I continued to rage. I eventually wore myself out and
fell asleep on the damp floor, next to Mr. Sparkle. When I woke up
in the morning, he was gone, but my anger wasn’t. I refused to
speak to Asher for weeks, even after he made me an apology card and
his mom tried to take me to the pet store to buy me a new fish. It
wasn’t until my mom told me I was being a spoiled brat and a
horrible friend that I began to relent. Not right away, of course,
but that night as I tried to fall asleep, the guilt hit me. I
honestly doubted that Asher killed my fish, but I felt like I
needed
someone
to blame. The next morning, I got my mom to
drive me over to his house to apologize. And just like that, we
were back to being best friends.

This time, at nearly twice the age we were before, I
didn’t think it was going to be quite that easy. I’ve noticed that
each time I double in age, life seems to get four times more
complicated.

Like I mentioned before, it’s not like Jason was a
bad guy. He was attentive, sweet, made me laugh, and was a really
nice guy. I’m not going to lie: I liked him. He was the first one
that I could really relate to about my dad, in a weird way. I tried
to avoid the subject of my dad, so I wouldn’t have to tell him too
much, but some of the things he said just made so much sense to me.
When he told me that instead of having imaginary friends as a kid,
he had an imaginary mom who followed him around, I got it. It made
me feel like there was someone else in the world who really
understood what it was like.

But at the same time, all the little things started
to drive me crazy. I didn’t like the way he expected me to call
him, instead of the other way around. I didn’t like his horrible
spelling and messy handwriting. I didn’t like the way he spoke
slightly too softly, so it was hard to understand him. And I didn’t
like how he crept his hand slowly closer during movies, like I
wouldn’t notice when he finally put his hand around mine. They were
all such dumb, little things, but the longer I was with him, the
more little things I noticed. I think when you’re really in love
with someone, those little things all become forgivable: little
annoyances that make you roll your eyes, but you learn to live with
them. For me, they just drove me insane and occupied my attention
every moment I was with him.

To compensate, I tried even harder to be a good
girlfriend. I wrote him sweet texts before I fell asleep, I bought
him little trinkets when I was out at the store, and I held his
hand when we were on dates. No matter what I did, there was still
this gnawing feeling in my gut that
something
wasn’t right.
It was kind of like guilt, but mixed with anxiety. I think it’s the
sort of feeling I would get if I were cheating on my boyfriend. I
knew I was with the wrong person, but I forced myself to just
accept it. It’s the price I had to pay to make up for my family’s
sins. Let me tell you, it’s a hopeless sort of feeling when you
decide someone else’s happiness is more important than your own. To
do so, you have to admit that your life isn’t worth very much.

Regardless of my misery, the year kept ticking by and
soon, it was spring break, along with Easter. For the past six
years or so, I had decorated Easter eggs with Asher and I was
hoping an invitation would come along, but he was still giving me
the cold shoulder. Ever since the Christmas debacle, I had been
avoiding church, since things were just too risky there with too
many people knowing both sides of the story. Thankfully, Jason
seemed to realize I wasn’t comfortable there and instead, he
suggested a combined Easter dinner with our two families. Awkward?
Sure, but doable. I figured we would make some small talk, eat some
good food, and then I could go home and work on the book for the
rest of the evening.

My mom and I got all dressed up in our Easter dresses
and headed over to the Stromsen household. Jason’s face lit up when
he saw me in my yellow sundress with black flowers stitched along
the bottom. “From a magpie to a goldfinch,” he said happily.

“Are you sure it’s not from an ostrich to a
duckling?” I teased.

Shaking his head, he shook my mom’s hand and invited
us both inside. There was a strange, puzzled look on her face for a
moment that I didn’t understand, but it quickly became clear. Over
a dinner of ham, sweet potatoes, and asparagus, my mom cleared her
throat and tilted her head slightly. “So, I noticed Mrs. Stromsen
wasn’t able to join us for dinner?”

Crap.
My breath caught in my throat and I
choked on a mouthful of food, sputtering slightly. My mom patted me
on the back as I took a giant gulp of water.
Oh, God.
Jason
gave me a bewildered look, silently asking why I hadn’t told her
anything ahead of time. Why
hadn’t
I told her anything? She
had brought it up at Christmas, but I avoided the question. I
certainly intended to come up with some sort of story to sate her
curiosity, but with everything else going on, I had totally
forgotten. What an idiot.

Jason glanced at his father, who was still chewing
slowly, looking off into the distance. He seemed to be in no hurry
to jump into the conversation. “She was killed almost a decade
ago,” Jason explained. “It was a hit-and-run accident when I was
just a kid.”

It went very silent suddenly, and my heart sank. I
avoided her look, but I knew the secret was out: my mom knew. I
could tell by the way she breathed a little faster, the way her
fork clattered on the plate just a little too loudly.
Please,
please don’t say anything more
, I begged her in my mind.
Fortunately, Jason seemed used to these awkward pauses in the
conversation after he explained what happened to his mom. “Let’s
just hope our parents don’t hit it off too well,” he continued
effortlessly, elbowing my side. “I read about that happening once.
A couple’s single parents ended up getting married, meaning they
were then step-siblings who dated each other.”

“Eww,” I managed, still not daring to look up at my
mom.

“You’ve got to feel sorry for them, though,” he said.
“Can you really blame them? I mean, you know what it feels like to
be in love.” He reached over and squeezed my hand.

I do?

“Would you break up with me, if our parents got
married?” He laughed and I shook my head. “Look, I have something I
want to give you, and I thought tonight would be the perfect night,
with both our families here.”

I stared at him, trying to read his intentions. We
were only fourteen, surely he wouldn’t…

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little
box. “Now before you get
too
excited, let me explain. I know
we’re still young, but I’ve never felt this way about a girl
before. I just – I want you to know how much I care for you and how
serious I am about you.” He started to pull open the box, then
paused. “Now, this isn’t an engagement ring, or anything like
that.”

Oh, thank God.

He snapped it open and showed me what was inside. It
sure looked like an engagement ring to me. Three pieces of metal
wrapped together to entwine around a pretty darn sparkly white gem
in the middle. I must have looked absolutely terrified, but he
bravely continued. “It’s a promise ring. We’re still boyfriend and
girlfriend, but I promise to remain at your side until we are old
enough to get married. I want to be with you forever.”