The Book of Luke (22 page)

L
uke’s parents were out to dinner in the city. The same city in which I’d just had lunch with Sean. It was like the universe was trying to tell me something. And I wasn’t going to listen.

Somewhere between leaving a message on Josie’s voice mail and driving to Luke’s house, I’d decided to forget what everyone else wanted me to do, and just do what
I
wanted me to do. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I knew this was the last time we’d be together. Our last time and our first time all at once. I found myself wondering if they’d almost cancel each other out. And I hoped they wouldn’t.

Sitting on the couch watching a movie with Luke, it was exactly where I wanted to be. It didn’t matter that he didn’t offer to get me a drink or that he hogged the remote control. Unfortunately, what mattered the most to me was exactly what I wouldn’t be able to have.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” I asked, my voice sounding a little like I’d just run a marathon.

Luke muted the TV and turned to me. “Why, do you?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Luke took my hand and led me upstairs, not even bothering to turn off the TV.

When we lay down on Luke’s bed, he didn’t start unbuttoning my shirt or try to unzip my pants. Instead, we just lay there together, my head resting against his shoulder.

“What’s with the glow-in-the-dark stars?” I asked, pointing to the ceiling.

“Leftovers from years ago. I went through a phase where I was all into space and planets and that stuff. I always forget they’re up there until I go to bed, and then I don’t feel like taking them down.”

It wasn’t the perfect beach scene I once envisioned. There were no waves lapping at our feet, no sunset or shooting stars. Just glow-in-the-dark planets stuck to the ceiling above us. It wasn’t how I’d always pictured it, but for some reason it still felt perfect.

I just had one more thing to do. It wouldn’t change what was about to happen, but I owed it to Josie. “Can you do me a favor?” I asked.

Luke stopped running has hands across my stomach. “Sure.”

“Can you apologize to Josie?”

Luke hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I can do that. For you.”

I rolled on my side and faced Luke.

“Do you have something?” I whispered.

Luke propped himself up on his elbows and smiled, like he was getting ready to make fun of me. “
Something
? Like a can opener or a bag of frozen peas?”

Despite myself, he got me to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Luke closed his eyes and kissed my neck. “I know what you mean.”

I could tell Luke had had sex before, who knows, maybe even with the sophomore from St. Michael’s on New Year’s Eve. But, as he looked down at me, his eyes barely an inch from my own, I knew I was different. And I swear, right before I closed my eyes, Luke muttered something that sounded an awful lot like “I love you.” And then I heard myself muttering, “Me, too.”

Three months ago if somebody had told me I’d be lying in bed with Luke, I probably would have assumed I was doing it to prove I was over Sean. But that’s not why I was here right now. It wasn’t why I wished I never had to leave and that Friday would never come. I slept with Luke because I wanted to. I slept with Luke because—I can’t even believe I’m saying this—I slept with Luke because I really believed I loved him.

W
hen I opened my eyes the next morning, for one brief moment, one tiny tick of the second hand, it seemed like any other Sunday. I could hear my mom in the kitchen and smell the scrambled eggs she was whipping up for breakfast. I even placed a hand on my stomach and considered heading downstairs for some eggs myself. And then it hit me. The night before.

Less than twelve hours ago I’d been lying in Luke’s bed, lying naked while he curled his body around me to keep warm. Less than twelve hours ago I could almost still convince myself that this was still a game. Or maybe I’d just convinced myself that the game didn’t matter. I couldn’t tell anymore. All I knew, lying there in my own bed with the covers pulled up to my chin while the smell of eggs wafted under my bedroom door, was that less than twelve hours ago I’d been the happiest I’d been in a long time. And now I was going to have to pay the price.

Last night in bed with Luke, I wasn’t thinking that he was the originator of the jiggle scale or that he’d e-mailed my best friend to break up with her or that he was making out with a St. Michael’s sophomore while his girlfriend was planning how to give him the shirt she bought for him in the Bahamas. Instead, I was thinking about the guy who bought me a hot dog at the Celtics game and then wrote “happy birthday” in ketchup before handing it over to me. I thought about the only person who volunteered to take me to see my old house and how he’d gone out of his way to put an umbrella in his car, even though he couldn’t care less if he got wet. And now he was the first guy I’d slept with. And now that I’d done it, losing my virginity didn’t seem nearly as frightening as the idea of losing Luke.

I pulled the covers over my head and tried to hide, and not just because the eggs were making my empty stomach growl. I hoped that a down comforter and a cotton sheet with pale yellow pin-stripes could make it all go away. But there was no hiding from the truth. And the truth was, in five days I was supposed to put the completed guide into the time capsule and act like I’d finished my assignment, like the last three months had never happened. Only something
had
happened. Everything happened. And in five days I’d have to make a choice to either lose my best friends or lose Luke. Because there was no way Josie and Lucy would understand about me and Luke, and there was no way to tell them I’d slept with Luke because I loved him without making them feel betrayed. And the minute I put the guide in the time capsule, Luke would find out it had all just been part of some grand plan.

I’d never intended for Luke to actually become my boyfriend—a real boyfriend. Even now, looking back, I can honestly say that. There was always a part of me that thought he was cute—I mean, I’m not blind—but I swear I never thought this would happen. I never thought I could fall for Luke and lose my friends in the process. He was just some guy I was supposed to reform.

“Get up, Dad’s on the phone.” TJ threw open my door without even knocking.

I peeked out from under the sheet. “Tell him I’m sleeping.”

TJ put the phone up to his ear. “She says to tell you she’s sleeping.”

Why did I even think TJ would cover for me?

“He says he’d like to talk to you.”

“Tell him I’ll call him later.”

I grabbed my pillow and buried my face in it while TJ relayed my message.

“You could have at least pretended I was really sleeping, you know,” I told TJ, lifting the pillow after I heard him say good-bye and press the off button.

“I’m not going to lie for you.”

“I wasn’t asking you to lie for me,” I told him, even though I was.

“Right.” TJ turned to leave, but then stopped and ripped the pillow off my head. “I don’t know why you think you have to keep punishing Dad—like it’s not enough you wouldn’t go to Chicago over spring break to see him.”

“I’m not punishing him.” I grabbed for the pillow and took it back.

“It’s not like you’re making the situation better for any of us, Emily. Maybe you should think about somebody besides yourself for once.”

“Just get out,” I ordered, and TJ did just that. I didn’t need to listen to him telling me how I should or shouldn’t treat my dad. What did TJ know? In the grand scheme of things, TJ was the least of my problems.

Monday morning I couldn’t bear the idea of facing Lucy or Josie. I was so afraid they’d be able to tell something was different. Not that I believed all that crap about a woman glowing after she’s had sex or anything—I wasn’t afraid they’d be able to tell I was different
physically
. No, I was afraid they’d take one look at my face and know that I wasn’t pretending anymore. That I really did fall for Luke. Failing to write the guide was one thing, but falling in love and sleeping with your best friend’s ex-boyfriend was an entirely different story.

So there was no way I could go to school and face them. Or Luke, for that matter. I felt like I was drowning in the Bermuda triangle, flailing between my two best friends who thought I was just pretending to be Luke’s girlfriend to prove the guide worked, and the guy I’d fallen for, the guy I’d slept with, even though our entire relationship was based on a lie.

Instead of getting up when my alarm clock went off at seven o’clock, I reached over, smacked the off button, and burrowed under my comforter.

“You’re going to be late,” my mom reminded me, poking her head into my room.

I didn’t even attempt to fake a scratchy voice or stuffy nose. I figured the look on my face would pretty much sum up how I felt. “I’m not feeling well. Can I stay home?”

My mom came over to my bed and laid a hand across my forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

“It’s my stomach,” I told her, and I wasn’t even lying. It
was
my stomach. I felt absolutely sick to my stomach about everything. I just wished I’d never agreed to test the guide. I wish we’d never come up with the idea for the guide at all. I’d set out to change Luke and instead I’d changed everything.

“Okay, you can stay home.” My mom smoothed her hand across my bed, attempting to eliminate the creases I’d created overnight. “I’ll go and get you some ginger ale to settle your stomach.”

I was pretty sure a glass of ginger ale wouldn’t settle anything, but at least I didn’t have to go to school.

My mom returned with the glass of ginger ale and some toast. “I thought this might help,” she offered, placing the plate on my night table. “You just get some rest and I’ll check on you in a little while.”

I gave her a weak smile, which was about the only kind of smile I could muster. “Thanks.”

After she left I eyed the whole wheat toast and debated whether or not I should even try to take a bite. But I didn’t have any appetite.

So instead of taking the toast I opened my night table drawer and reached for the brown notebook I’d stuffed in the back. I opened the cardboard cover and read the first page:
The Guy’s Guide Tip #1: Forget everything you thought you knew about girls. You don’t know anything.

The first tip had been my idea. The
whole
guide had been my idea, my attempt to prove I didn’t have to be the nice girl everyone expected me to be. And I’d succeeded. Only instead of just being
not-nice,
I was also now
not-happy
. If it wasn’t happening to me, I’d almost point out how ironic that was. Only it
was
me, and it didn’t feel ironic. It just felt horrible.

I laid the notebook on my lap and flipped through the pages we’d filled in, reliving the last three months. At the bottom of the pages I’d written notes about my dates and conversations with Luke, providing color commentary to go along with our tips and don’ts. I read each page, trying to pinpoint exactly when Luke stopped feeling like a project and started feeling like a boyfriend. But I couldn’t identify exactly when it happened, I only knew it did. I continued reading and stopped when I reached the photos I’d glued to the back of some of the pages. There was me and Luke in the parking lot, the two of us in the hot tub at Josie’s ski house, Luke and me walking together in the hall. Anyone looking at those pictures would have thought we were like any other couple. They never would have guessed it was my attempt to show guys how to be better people, better boyfriends. Looking at those pictures Luke didn’t look like the horrible guy I thought he was at the start of all this. And that made me feel even lower. I was the lowest of the low. I was worse than all of them. Because I was the one who didn’t care about anyone else’s feelings. I went out of my way to be mean. I did it on purpose, and I knew better.

I was still in my pajamas at two o’clock when my mom came into my room waving five envelopes in the air. At that point, I’d almost convinced myself that as long as I stayed in my pajamas I wouldn’t have to deal with what was waiting for me at school. I could spend the last month of school in bed pretending I had mono or something, using my yellow pinstriped sheets to shield me from the outside world.

“Delivery for Emily Abbott,” she called out, coming over to the side of my bed and motioning for me to make room so she could sit down.

I scooted over and sat up. “Are those what I think they are?”

My mom handed me the envelopes. “Only if you think they’re letters from Smith, Swarthmore, Amherst, Bowdoin, and Northwestern.”

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the U.S. Postal Service proved me wrong.

I held the envelopes in my hands but didn’t make a move to open them.

“Go ahead,” my mom urged, nudging me. “Let’s see what they say.”

This wasn’t how I pictured finding out, with bed head and morning breath, even though it was well into the afternoon.

“Come on, what are you waiting for?” my mom wanted to know. “Open them.”

So that’s what I did. One by one I slid my finger under the sealed flaps and ripped them open. And each time my mom kissed me and offered her congratulations.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking the letters and rereading them for herself. “You should be happy.”

“I know. I am.” In fact, I sounded about as happy as if I’d been accepted to dog-grooming school.

“Why don’t you shower and get dressed and later we’ll go out for dinner. Anywhere you want. We need to celebrate.”

“I don’t feel much like celebrating.”

She laid her arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close. “Okay, you rest and we can celebrate tomorrow night when you’re feeling better.”

I knew I should have been ecstatic about my acceptances. I’d gotten exactly what I wanted, and now I’d have to choose. I had to make a choice. Another choice. And I knew what that would have to be.

I knew I had to break up with Luke, but there was no way I could walk into school tomorrow and face him. And there was no way I could call him and hear his voice and still go through with it.

So I did something I never thought I’d do, something that was so pitiful I couldn’t even believe I’d actually view it as a viable option.

I slid out of bed, went over to my desk, and sat down at my computer. Before I could chicken out, I forced my fingers to start tapping the keyboard, and in less time than it had taken me to change Luke, the send button was pressed and it was over. I’d sent Luke an e-mail that said I wanted to break up.

And that night, for the first time in almost three months, I didn’t call Luke. And he didn’t call me.