Things I Can't Forget (11 page)

“Nice meeting you,” she tells me, handing me my menu. She points at Matt. “You. Me. We’re talking later. Call me.”

Matt shakes his head, laughing, and stares down at his menu. “Fine. Now go away.”

She grins and skips off.

“I don’t even know why I’m looking at this.” He tosses his menu to the other side of the table. “I always get the same thing.”

“Oh yeah? I usually get the bacon cheeseburger.”

“I like the ranch burger. I think ranch has nicotine in it, you know?”

“Nasty. You smoke?”

He sips his water. “Naw. But there’s gotta be something in the ranch that makes me so addicted. It’s either that or cocaine.”

“You’d better not be doing cocaine.”

“You ordering me around?” He lifts an eyebrow, smiling coyly.

“Maybe.”

“You can’t order me around.”

“Have fun bailing yourself out of jail,” I say, laughing. He laughs along with me, his blue eyes lit up. I twist my ring around my finger.

“I’m gonna kick you out of my Crisco Cult if you don’t behave,” he flirts.

“It’s our first date and we’re already arguing.”

He studies my face, smiling. “That’s a good sign, I guess.”

“It is?” I laugh.

“My parents fight all day every day. This morning they got into it because Dad thinks the toilet paper roll should unravel from the top and Mom thinks it should unravel from the bottom.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Very serious.”

“I think it should unravel from the bottom.”

“The top.”

We laugh, and he ruffles his dirty blond hair and looks at the little appetizer flipbook sitting on the table. “We’re getting the bottomless chips with ranch dressing, right?”

I smile. “You’re as bad as my dad. He’s got serious blood pressure issues because he overindulges and now you’re all eating two helpings of ranch in one dinner.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that,” he says. “Ranch dressing exists. Therefore, I must eat it.”

A waiter takes our drink and appetizer order, then a guy carrying a beer struts up to our table. “Brown!” He and Matt shake hands and do a guy hug, slapping each other’s backs.

“Who’s this?” the guy says, sipping his beer and staring me down.

“This is Kate.”

The guy squeezes Matt’s shoulder and grins down at him. “Nice, bro.”

Matt’s face goes red. “Nick, I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“You want to come to this party later? There’s supposed to be a nude Jell-O wrestling contest.”

“What?” I exclaim.

“Good-bye, Nick,” Matt says with a stern voice.

“Okay,” the guy says, heading back toward the bar. Beer sloshes out of his glass onto the floor and he nearly slips on it.

“Sorry,” Matt says, scratching his neck. “One of my frat brothers.”

“Is Nick a big drinker?” I ask quietly.

“It’s Saturday night. Everyone drinks on Saturday night.”

“Even you?” I ask. “I’m not really into that.” And I’m really not into the idea of nude Jell-O wrestling parties. He takes in my face and I find his blue eyes.

“I’ve had a beer before, sure,” Matt says. “But I like lemonade and hot cocoa too.”

“Me too…”

“Listen, I take it it really bothers you I’m in a frat, right?”

I nod slowly. I take my napkin off the table, unfold it, and stretch it across my lap. “I don’t know much about any of it. I’ve never been to a frat house or anything.”

He plays with a coaster, thinking. “Last month? My older sister, Leigh, had a flat tire on the interstate. My parents were on a mission trip and I was crashing for a final. Nick went and changed her tire and made sure she got back home safely. No questions asked.”

Last night, when I called Parker to ask for help, she didn’t ask any questions either. She showed up and did my makeup and gave me a great outfit.

“It’s good to have friends you can count on,” I say.

He points at me with a fork. “Our frat also raises money for charity. We do car washes.”

“Let me guess. Without your shirts on?”

“Uh…yeah. Obviously.”

I laugh. “What charity?”

“The ASPCA. You know, all those commercials on TV? With pictures of sad dogs and cats?”

“Awww,” I reply, making Matt laugh. He takes his napkin off the table and opens it in his lap.

“It’s weird,” I say. “I don’t know what to think about frats or other churches. I’ve never gone to another church besides Forrest Sanctuary and the only thing I know about frats is that they have wild keggers and sometimes people get naked and jump in pools. I saw that on TV.”

“Well, those kinds of things do happen occasionally, I guess, but you can’t judge all frats and people based on TV. All that really matters is what you think. And I care what you think.”

“You know what I’m thinking?” I say.

“What?” He leans across the table toward me.

“Maybe I’ll get the ranch burger too.”

“Copycat.”

We laugh, and that’s when another guy stumbles up and slides into the booth next to Matt. He whispers in Matt’s ear and gropes his chest.

“Stop,” Matt says, slapping the guy’s hand away.

“But I want your body,” the guy slurs. I can’t believe how drunk this guy is. It’s only 9:00 p.m. and he’s feeling up Matt!

“Dude, can’t you see I’m on a date?” Matt says.

The guy pinches Matt’s chest. Then he glares over at me. “Come on, man. She’s not your type. I’m your loooooooooovvvvvvvvvver.”

A group of guys at the bar are cracking up and pointing at us. I rub my face, hardly believing this is happening. Another boy comes over, sits down, wraps his arm around me, and checks out my cleavage. I shove him away, regretting wearing this dress.

“Can I get you a beer?” he asks.

“She doesn’t want a beer,” Matt blurts, looking horrified. “Come on, guys. Get lost.”

“But I want your body!” the guy whines again and rests his head on Matt’s shoulder.

“Ellie!” Matt hollers, and she flits over and forces the two guys back to the bar. For a girl who weighs a hundred pounds, she sure has a lot of control over those two.

The waiter brings our Cokes and chips. I’m so nervous, I suck down a bunch at once and stuff two chips in my mouth.

“What’s goin’ on, Brown?” Nick yells from the bar. “You gonna lavalier this girl?”

“Quiet, you!” Ellie says to him, and all the guys shut up real fast and focus on the Braves game.

Matt groans. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. My stupid friends…”

I eat another chip. “They seem…interesting,” I offer, laughing nervously. I slurp more Coke.

“They are, but I’d trust all of them with my life.”

“Do any of them go to your church?”

“Not a one of them. They’re all in my frat.”

“Oh.”

“I trust the people at church too, but I have plenty of friends who don’t go to church at all.” He dips a chip in ranch and eats it. “I swear these things have nicotine in them,” he says again, shaking his head.

I grin and pop another chip. “What does lavalier mean?” I ask through a mouthful.

Matt stuffs a chip in his mouth. “It means that you give a girl your letters. Like, your frat letters?”

“And?”

“If you let a girl wear your letters, it means you love her as much or more than your brothers. It’s a big deal.”

“It must happen a lot, right?”

“No way.” Matt laughs. “The last time one of my brothers lavaliered a girl, some guys tied him to a tree, naked. Then they threw eggs at him.”

“Wow. That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it was over the top.”

I gaze over Matt’s shoulder at his friends. Half of them are laughing and messing around, but a bunch of them are staring at me. Like they’re sizing me up or something. I play with the napkin in my lap. If my car broke down on the side of the road, I wouldn’t have that many people to call. My parents. Maybe Will or Parker, but it’s not like they’d ask me to hang out afterward. At this point, I doubt I’d call Emily. I guess I’ll have to rely on AAA the rest of my life.

“Your friends are staring at me,” I tell Matt.

He looks over his shoulder. “They’re worried about me, I guess.”

“Worried?”

He sips Coke from his straw. “I don’t date often. Hardly ever, really.”

“But you hook up, right?”

He smirks and shakes his head. “Are you always this up-front?”

“Sorry…”

“Naw, it’s okay.” He swirls his Coke with the straw. “Hooking up isn’t the same thing as a date, you know.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I say, deciding to tell the truth. “This is my first real date.”

“And I brought you to Chili’s?” he exclaims. He cracks up. “I’m such an asshole. I can’t believe I’ve ruined your dreams of a first date at a real restaurant. I’m not even wearing shoes.”

I peek under the table to find he’s kicked his flip-flops off.

“It’s kinda like I’m on a date with you and your frat.”

“I’ll do better next time,” he replies. A pause. “Tell me about your friends.”

Emily’s face flashes in my mind. I pull a deep breath. I don’t know that I want to talk about her right now, especially when I’m so happy. At that moment, cheers erupt from the bar and Matt swivels around to catch the TV for a sec. One of the Braves hit a homer.

When he turns back to me, I stretch a hand across the table. It’s comfortable, intertwining our fingers. It’s like it’s where they belong. Our eyes meet.

Another of Matt’s friends approaches us, and this time, I shake the guy’s hand and ask if he wants to join us, which makes Matt smile the brightest smile I’ve seen in a long time.

•••

After Chili’s, Matt takes me to the Fun Tunnel at the mall, where we battle it out over Skee-Ball. He wins like a hundred tickets and I only get five.

“Wow, you are terrible at this,” he teases, and I swat him.

“I played soccer. I wasn’t a bowler.”

“Clearly.” He gestures at my five tickets. I use them to buy Matt a mini Tootsie Roll, which he pops in his mouth, smiling.

He uses his tickets to buy me a temporary tattoo of a fairy and a sparkly plastic mood ring, which he slips onto my pinky finger. It barely fits—my skin swells around the plastic.

We go over to the basketball free throw game where we take shot after shot, laughing and bumping into each other as we shoot. My hip brushes against his, and every so often, he’ll stare over at me like it’s hard for him to look away from my face.

“Another game?” he asks, slipping two quarters into the slot. Basketballs roll toward us and the game timer starts counting down from two minutes. The timer reminds me of life, and that I’ve never been on a real date before. I’m eighteen years old. The timer ticks down. Matt shoots while I stand there, not wanting to stay still, wanting to take a shot. The timer’s ticking.

I turn to face him. He takes a jump shot. The ball swooshes through the net. He grabs another ball, but before he can shoot I drag a finger down his arm, from his shoulder to his wrist. He drops the ball and twists to face me, his blue eyes finding mine. And before I can second guess myself or lose my nerve, I get up on tiptoes and steal a kiss. A quick peck on the lips.

He grins and sets his hands on my waist, pulling me closer. “That was a nice surprise,” he murmurs, then leans back in and kisses me more deeply. His lips are soft, moving gently, exploring. I wrap my arms around his neck and he digs his thumbs into my hips. I taste Tootsie Roll on his tongue.

A buzzer goes off when the game timer hits zero.

But we just got started.

what happened last night

Brother Michael is giving a sermon about caring for the elderly and Meals on Wheels or something, but I’ve got an itch. I grab a little offering envelope and one of those tiny pencils you only seem to see at church and on golf courses. Mom sniffs when she sees what I’m doing.

I start sketching Matt’s hand.

Under a full moon and a sky full of stars, we sprinted out of the Fun Tunnel, laughing and holding hands, jumping in circles. When we reached his Jeep, Matt gently leaned me against the door and kissed me so fully, the whole world went dark. It was just me and him and our bodies and a spark that flicked on and wouldn’t go out. His fingers traced from my ear to my chin, from my chin to my cheek, from my cheek to my lips.

I take care to draw the creases of his hand. I make his nails rugged but clean.

He dragged his fingers along the back of my neck as he pulled me forward so his mouth met mine.

I grin as I shade the dip between his forefinger and thumb.

Mom keeps sniffing and Daddy keeps looking at me sideways and smiling, so I carefully fold the drawing and stick it in my Bible.

I put the little pencil back into its holder and try to focus on the sermon.

sunday, june 10 ~ week 2 of 7

Part of me is still giddy about my date with Matt and can’t wait to see him again in a few hours when counselors return to camp. To be honest, he and I didn’t talk much the rest of the night. He drove me home, where we sat in the driveway and kissed and kissed and kissed. His fingers explored every inch of my face and I couldn’t stop touching his strong shoulders and dirty blond hair. Mom and Daddy were asleep when I finally dragged myself inside. I stayed awake for hours, thinking of Matt, and overslept and nearly missed Sunday school this morning. I kept thinking,
Matt, Matt, Matt,
and I felt so good inside it felt wrong.

But the other half of me is terrified to see Emily today. We haven’t spoken since graduation, when we told each other good luck and walked away without even a hug. And according to Mom, Emily hasn’t contacted her parents since they kicked her out of the house.

The only reason I know where she lives is because Mom got Mr. Munroe, the mailman, to spill the beans about where Emily’s mail is being forwarded to, and maybe I’m invading her privacy, but I need to give her part of my paycheck. To make sure she has enough to eat. It’s the right thing to do.

Before driving to Nashville, I stop at Sonic to get a cherry limeade, to soothe my nerves, and find Will Whitfield there when I pull into the parking lot. He’s lounging at a picnic table, talking to Sam Henry and Drew Bates.

I order my drink, then watch the guys chat until Will looks over. He grins and beckons me. In high school, I never would’ve gotten out of my car at Sonic to talk to people, but I slowly open my door and make my way to him. Drew narrows his eyes while Sam shakes his Styrofoam cup, rattling the ice around.

“Hey,” Will says, standing up. “Want to join us?”

“Thanks, but I’m on my way to Nashville to see Emily Mansfield before going back to camp.”

“What happened to her anyway? I haven’t seen Jacob around in weeks. Are they okay?”

I clear my throat. “I guess they’re both sad about the breakup,” I lie.

Will tilts his head. “Oh.”

“We had a class together, right?” Sam asks me, chomping on his ice.

“Yeah,” I reply. “Art.”

He points at me. “That’s it.” He grins like he’s seeing me for the first time, and I don’t know what’s more embarrassing—that I’m forgettable, or that my artwork is forgettable.

My face flushes and I’m turning to climb back in my car when Will touches my elbow. “How was the date?”

I can’t stop my smile. “Fun. Unexpected. Crazy.”

Will laughs, nodding. “That sounds like Matt. You gonna see him again?”

“I’ll see him tonight at work—”

“I know that. But another date?”

I bite my lips together and sneak a peek at Drew, who’s still staring at me. “I hope so, yeah.”

“Nice,” Will says, patting my shoulder. “You look happy.”

Did Will and Parker tell Drew that I was surprised he’s gay and now he’s pissed? My face goes hot when Drew rolls his eyes at me. Will catches him doing it and leans over to whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry about him. He’s really protective of Parker because they’ve been friends forever.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Will whispers. “And you go to Parker’s church, therefore Drew believes you are evil.”

I laugh a sad laugh.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will says, patting my shoulder, but I know I will.

A roller-skating waitress brings me my cherry limeade, so I say good-bye to the guys and get back into my car.

I sip my drink through the straw, wondering if Sam will forget about me again. I want people I can call if my car breaks down on the side of the interstate. Judging by the way Drew treated me, he only seems to associate me with bad stuff. At the stoplight, I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the steering wheel. I don’t know where I get off thinking I deserve to be remembered.

In Nashville, I park outside Emily’s new apartment. A few pieces of trash litter the parking lot, which has been overrun by cracks and weeds. I climb two flights of metal stairs to reach her door. A rip runs down the screen. She’s definitely here—I can hear a violin crooning inside. I ring the doorbell and try to figure out what to do with my hands while waiting. I settle for sticking my thumbs in the pockets of my jean shorts.

I hear locks unlocking and the door whips open to reveal Emily standing there in a white tank and khaki shorts. Her auburn hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail. Darkness rings her eyes. But they brighten a little when she sees me.

“Hey. Want to come in?” She pushes the screen open. I step inside. I had no idea her living room, bedroom, and dining room would all be merged into one. It’s so small. I turn in a circle. A piece of cardboard covers a broken window. Bits of linoleum are flaking away from the floor, like sunburned skin. I bite the inside of my cheek when I see a mousetrap.

I spin around to find the butterfly painting I painted for her sixteenth birthday hanging over a sagging couch. She remembered my art. My eyes burn.

She relocks the door, slides the security chain into place, and eyes my shorts. I wore the short ones Mom bought me because I think Matt will like them. Now I wonder if I shouldn’t have.

“How did you find me?” she asks.

“Mom found out. From the mailman.”

Her mouth forms an O. “What are you doing here?”

I pull my lower lip between my teeth and reach into my back pocket and grab the money. “I wanted to bring you this. You know, in case you needed it.” I cough into a fist. “For your rent or groceries or whatever.”

Her eyes grow dark. “Why would you think I’d want your money?”

“I thought I could help—” I thrust the money toward her hand. She steps back.

“You haven’t answered my calls for a month and now you show up and give me money?”

“I want to help.”

“If you want to help, you could call me once in a while. Or maybe pick up when I call you?”

I don’t know how to tell her that just seeing her reminds me of what we did. I put the money back in my pocket and stand in front of the butterfly painting.

“You kept it,” I say quietly.

She appears beside me and studies the purple butterfly, its wings bursting open to reveal orange, yellow, red, and white. “This painting gave me the courage to play for the Youth Philharmonic.”

If I hadn’t painted this butterfly for her, would she have still gone to D.C.? Because last summer is when she started changing.

I touch my throat, staring down at the stained linoleum. Mom would have a fit if she knew Emily was living here. She’d insist on redecorating it, that’s for sure.

“Do you, um, want to sit down?” Emily asks. “Maybe we can go out for something to eat? I can’t afford much, but I get fifty percent off at the diner where I’m working nights.”

“I’m not sure,” I reply. “I have to be back at camp early.”

“How’s that going?”

I swallow. “Not too bad. Um…” Now that I’m here, I know how much I miss her. The pain is deeper, rawer than it is when she’s not around. I want to tell her that. But I need to know something first.

“Did you ask for forgiveness?”

“Ask who for forgiveness?” Sadness rings in her voice.

“God. You know, for what we did.”

“I want to move on already. Can’t you forgive me?”

“You care about
my
forgiveness but not God’s?”

“I care more about yours.”

The tears start to well in my eyes. Is my friend going to Hell? And will I be there with her? I wipe my cheek with the heel of my hand.

“Your shorts are cute,” she says.

“That’s all you care about? My shorts?” I’m pissed, but part of me wants her to know why I’m wearing the shorts. Matt. How he can make doughnuts over a campfire and how he invented a new kind of dodgeball.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, gesturing at her tiny kitchen. “I have water, and, um…” She looks over her shoulder, blushing.

I shake my head.

“Look…” she says. “I’m sorry about what I said that day.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I find myself crossing my arms across my stomach and inching away from her.

“I was so angry,” she adds. “I can’t even explain what I felt like. I mean, my parents…it was like I killed part of them by doing what I did…And I needed you.”

“I needed you too. I still feel bad about what I did…Maybe if I hadn’t agreed, you wouldn’t have gone through with it,” I mumble, wiping my nose.

“It was my decision,” she says. “Only I should be allowed to regret it.”

“Do you?”

Her eyes close. “You really won’t forgive me for this, will you?”

“I forgive you, but we need God’s forgiveness too. It’s not about you—”

“That’s just it,” she exclaims. “It
is
about me. About me and Jacob.” She covers her face. “I wish you hadn’t come here—I was finally starting to calm down and get into a rhythm and now you’re back and I feel terrible again and—”

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I just need time and to talk and some help and—”

She peeks at me from behind her fingers. “I want my friend back.”

“I do too—”

“Kate,” she says before laughing bitterly. “You are so far gone I don’t think I can get you back.”

These are my beliefs, my feelings, what I know to be true, and she thinks I’m too far gone to be helped? “If you were my friend, you’d understand what I’m trying to say,” I cry.

“Well, maybe we can’t be friends then,” she says. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want your pity.” She points at the door and I quickly let myself out. It slams behind me. I dash down the squeaky staircase and slip into my car.

I turn the ignition and, before reversing, I look over my shoulder, out into the world.

•••

I arrive at camp earlier than expected.

Will I get in trouble with Megan for being here early?

I park my car at the tree line right next to Brad’s. It’s in the exact same place I left it on Friday. Did he stay here? That’s against the rules. Maybe he just parked in the same spot?

I have time before my
super
special
campfire lesson with Eric, and I need to de-stress, so I pull on my knee brace, sports bra, running shorts, sneakers, and a T-shirt, and take off down the trails. I haven’t tried running anywhere except for the big field yet and I should feel scared that I might trip on a tree root or a rock or something, but I don’t. I hurl myself as fast as I can go. The speed keeps the pain away.

I jog for an hour—for four miles, and by the time I slow down and rest my hands on my thighs, my knee is throbbing and I’m panting, but somehow I feel better.

I pass by Matt’s Bonzo Ball court and bend over to the spigot to slurp some water. When I look up, I find Andrea stalking toward me.

“I heard,” she says with a shaking voice.

I wipe my mouth with my T-shirt. “What?”

“I heard you were at Chili’s last night with Matt.” She bites her lips together.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. I ran for an hour to de-stress and now my heart is speeding right back up.

“You knew I liked him. I don’t understand why you’d go out with him, knowing that.”

“You didn’t even talk to me last week except to yell at me or tell on me to Megan,” I mumble. “It’s not like we’re friends.”

“It’s not like he’ll stay with you. He’ll never get over
her
.”

Andrea storms off toward Great Oak and I bend down to the spigot again, slapping water all over my face, trying to make myself look sweaty so no one will suspect I’m crying, that I’ve been crying all afternoon.

I’m not sure which cabin I’m staying in this week, so I grab a change of clothes from my car and head to the bathhouse over in Birdland. There, I stand under the hot water and try to clear my head. I pray to God, thanking him for my date last night. Deep down, I can’t help but think what happened today is what I deserve.

But is Emily right?

If I’m doing what the church and Bible and God tell me to do, then why am I so far gone in her eyes?

It’s time for me to meet Eric and Parker for extra training in starting fires (too bad they don’t have flame throwers at camp). I get out of the shower and look in the mirror as I dry my red, puffy face.

What am I supposed to believe?

•••

After the never-ending campfire training with Eric aka
the
Best
Camper
Ever,
I stand waiting by the tree line. When Matt’s Jeep pulls up, I see he’s taken the doors off again.

He climbs out and I say, “That thing is a death trap.”

He grins. “Nice to see you too.” He glances around, I guess to make sure we’re alone, and presses a kiss on top of my head. “I had fun last night.”

“Me too.” I want to ask if we’re dating now or what, but I’m way nervous. We walk together to Great Oak not holding hands, but his hip bumps against mine. He glances over at me, a small smile on his face. Last night we couldn’t keep our hands off each other and now I have no idea what’s next.

While waiting on the staff meeting to start, we sit together on the porch swing—prime real estate. We’re still not holding hands or anything. Our thighs aren’t touching. It’s hard to keep my breathing steady. I sneak a glance at Andrea—her eyes and cheeks are red. She’s been crying. I’m pretty sure Matt notices because he keeps tapping his bare foot and biting his lip.

After the meeting, I approach Brad and ask him to walk with me. He runs a hand through his short brown hair, glancing over his shoulder. “Yeah, okay.”

Matt is watching me; I hold up my pointer finger, telling him I’ll be a minute.

“What’s up?” Brad asks when we’re away from the group.

“Did you stay here over the weekend?” I whisper.

He swallows and places a hand on my forearm. “Please don’t say anything. Please.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong? Did you do something?”

“Me? No! Of course not.” He rubs a hand over his head again. Looks around. “I can’t go home, okay? My father and I—”

He pauses.

“Your father…?”

“I just can’t go home.”

I furrow my eyebrows.