Spill Over (21 page)

“This is crazy, running into you here.” I shake my head.

“Yeah. I mean, we come here for brunch pretty often, but, yeah. Weird.
I didn’t know you were in town.
”

Right. Now’s when I should say
something. My brain just isn’t—

“What’s up, Antony?” She smiles, but it feels different. Wary almost. Not what I’m used to from her.

“I just…
I feel like I was never as nice to you as I could have been.” Isn’t that the most important thing?

“Oh.” Her brows pull down.

“I was just thinking, that’s all. I guess, I guess I want you to know that you’re a cool girl, and that I’m sorry if I…” Man, I’m crap at this. “If I ever made you feel like you weren’t important to me, or made you feel bad, or…”
I rest a hand on the back of a chair, and I’m like gesturing with the other hand, only I’m crap at that, too. It’s like I left New York and turned into a middle-schooler for real.

“Wow.” She
folds her arms, but in a relaxed way, not a frustrated way
. “It’s like you’ve changed. I mean. I always felt lucky for being the girl with you when we were together.”

“But, was it enough?”
Or was I the
jerk off
I thought I wasn’t?

Her whole face looks confused—
her brow is wrinkled, and her eyes are all squinty.
“Are you
…
asking me out?”

“No!” I say way too quickly.

“Then I’m confused.”
She shakes her head.

“Sorry. I just want to make sure that I never made you feel bad.”

“Well, you’re a l
ot nicer than anyone else I’ve…
been with.” Something very real is on her face now.

“Your expectations are way too low,” I tease. “You’re gorgeous and smart and shouldn’t put up with any shit.”

Her brows come down as she st
arts to turn away
. “You’ve changed, Antony.”

“Is that good?” I ask.

“
I guess, yeah
.” She smirks. “It was good to see you.”

“You, too.” And I may be crap at trying to make things right, but it feels good.

“Thank you.” She pulls me into a short, tight hug before letting me go.

And the crazy thing
is that I feel lighter for it.

- - -

As soon as I step outside
,
the weight of the city, of being here
,
pushes down on me again, and I
shove
it away like I’ve been doing with everything else I don’t want to think about. One more stop
,
and then I’m heading to the airport to go home.
Home. To a boat.
My life is definitely not what it used to be.

Sixteen

“What happ
ened
in your meeting?” Dad asks as we drive
away from the airport.

“
He told me to start writing. That it needs to be personal, real. He wants pictures no one e
lse will have.” My talk with Mel
still unnerves me. I held it together, though. I really did. I sat and
we chatted
as if we were discussing pros and cons of certain cars and not my mom.

“Are you
ready
to do this?” Dad asks.

I know what he’s ask
ing. It’s not my writing skills
he’s talking abou
t. He’s talking about how Mom’s death still feels—
something I don’t want to touch. Not yet. “Almost.” That’s easy enough, right?

“I ask because I’m guessing you still have a lot of loose ends to tie up.” His gaze is pointed at me.

My
gaze is pointed out the window. Only thirty more minutes
of drive time
before Amber.
“A few.” But hopefully he knows me well enough to drop it.

“How was the Waldorf?” Dad asks.

And that’s the sign that he’s going to let it go for now. I let myself relax into my seat for the final few minutes of our drive.

“Amazing,” I say. Because the way I feel just doesn’t have words right now, it’s all too mixed up.

- - -

Amber just took off for home, or boat, or whatever.
I
’ve been back for two weeks. Amber and I are together pretty much all the time. Our
home school
classes are similar
,
and we’re both trying to get as much done as we can
. The hope is that
the last bits of
senior year
will
go a little more smoothly
.
Also, being around her means that she’s what I’m thinking about, and that beats the hell out of pretty much everythi
ng else that’s on my mind
.

I
’m trying to be careful
, but kissing her makes me crazy. The other problem is one of the only places we have any privacy is in my room. Kissing a girl in my room makes me even more crazy.

I know I need to start Mom’s memoir, especially if we’re going to push it
to
print early, but I’ll get to it. Just not yet.
I also know that my email is growing, not shrinking, but that, too, isn’t something my brain
can wrap itself around
.
Instead I’m goofing on my computer, talking with David
about nothing
.

My insides still turn over with Mom, and with all that I need to do, all that I’m holding in, the hope is still there. The hope that the longer I push things away, the more likely it is that my body will dissolve it. Break it apart into pieces that won’
t hurt so much. T
hat
all the pain
wi
ll disappear the way I need
it
to.

“Antony.” Dad sits across from
me at the table with his
computer
.

“Yeah?” I don’t glance up from my screen. Maybe he’ll take it as a sign that I’m too busy to talk. It’s funny how the tone even in a single word, lets me know that he’s about to start a topic that I don’t want to touch.

“Antony?”

I push out a sigh and flip my computer closed.

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “
No need for attitude.”

“What do you want?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but probably fail.

“It’s g
r
eat that you’re spending time with Amb
er, and that she seems so happy—
”

“But?” I interrupt.

“But it’s all you’re doing. I’m sure you have deadlines with the book, and you haven
’t said a word about email, and—
”

“I’ll take care of it.”

His shoulder
s
fall, just slightly. “Antony…”

“I said I’ll take care of it,” I snap.
I grab my computer, and
head to my room. Time to shower off.

But mostly, time to get out of this room and away from Dad.
Does this make me immature? Maybe.
I don’t care.

- - -

Amber’s working on some project with Brit this morning, leaving me on the back of Dad’s boat by myself.

My phone
rings
in my pocket in what I hope is the signal that Amber’s ready to come over.

“
Dude! You were in New York and you didn’t call
, man!”

“David. You don’t live in New York anymore.”
I shouldn’t feel twinges of disappointment that it’s David
instead of Amber
.

“I was
there
, Antony.”
He’s pulling his guilt thing.
“Visiting.”

How do I tell him I didn’t want to see anyone? “Sorry.”

“
Trace hasn’t heard from you at all.
Gem only saw you because she said you two ran into each other
, and that’s the only reason I even knew you were there
.
Two weeks ago!
We were online
yesterday
and you still didn’t say anything.
What’s up?
”

“Y
eah, well…”
I’m falling for the girl you told me not to waste my time on.

“So, what’s holding you?”
David
’s voice sounds more serious
.

Amber’s
walking up the dock
.
I start to smile at her until I realize she has tears streaming down her face. The sight of her red eyes twists my gut.
“I gotta go, David.”

“Antony.”

“We’ll talk. Maybe I’ll come down for a few days, but right now I gotta go.”

“Okay. You know if you need to talk or something…”

“Oh no.” I try to laugh. “You’re not allowed to get all
deep
on me.”

It’s the perfect thing to say. David laughs
,
and I hang up as I jump off the back of Dad’s boat to take Amber in my arms.

Her body shakes against me
,
breaking me apart.
But I’m practically
an expert of pushing away things I don’t want to feel.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. I have no idea what happened, but I’ve never seen her like this. It also makes me realize that without meaning to, I’m relying
on her a lot more than I should because I
don’t want her to be sad. She keeps
me afloat, helps
me to have the strength to push through every day, to ignore the cracking, aching in my chest.

Her arms wrap around me more tig
htly, and the only thing
I know how to do is to hold her.
I need it as badly as she does.

- - -

I’m sitting on the back deck of Dad’s boat, Amber pressed tightly under my arm.

“I finally heard from my dad, and he doesn’t want…” but her voice stops.

Because I’m total
crap in these situations I just squeeze her closer, stroking my hand up and down her arm.

“He said it’s not a good time for us to get to know one another.” Her hand comes up to wipe her face again.

“Shit.
I’m sorry.” What else am I supposed to do? My heart aches for her right now, so much that words won’t come.
Or at least that’s my excuse.
Because if I really let myself feel this, I’m wondering what else might leak out.

“He’s in Boston. I
t’s one of the reasons I wanted to go to NYU. I thought maybe I’d be close enough that I’d see him once in a while.”
Her breath’s still catching in these weird, short, bursts.

“I’d love to see you there, show you New York.”
My fingers trace up and down her arm.

“What’s the point now?”

“Uh… me?” I tease.

It works. She attempts a laugh.

“And, he might change his mind, especially with you so close. Maybe.” I mean, I can’t really say for sure, only what kind of dad would just walk away?

The thought feels like a
soft punch to the chest. Mine did. But we’ve always seemed okay, and I’m not sure why that is.
Well, not
okay
, okay, but I always knew he was out there
,
and that I could call him. I just never did.

I guess, too that
p
art
of me
is pissed that he didn’t stick around, and then another part of me, a part I keep even more hidden
,
wonders why I wasn’t
enough
to keep him around. There are people in New York that live on boats. I think.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“For what?”
Now I’m cramming my
shittiness
away, so I can focus on her.

“For making me feel better.”

I have no idea what I did, but it still feels good. “
Well, y
ou’ve sav
ed my sorry ass a few times, you know
.”

Her head comes off my shoulder. “You are way more awesome than you think you are.”

I raise a brow. “Yeah…
I don’t think that’s possible,” I tease and
smack a kiss on her cheek.

“Okay, okay.” She laughs. “So,
I need to talk about something else. W
hat does Antony have planned next?”