Things I Can't Forget (17 page)

I close my book and move to set it aside, but he speaks again. “Can I look at your other sketches? I’ll wash my hands first. Promise.”

“It’s okay,” I say, passing him the book, even though I’d rather lock it up in a safe. “You don’t have to worry about getting it dirty.” But he gets up and washes his hands anyway, and then flops back down on the rug with me. He opens my book carefully to the first page. He doesn’t move an inch as he studies a sketch of himself. Is he breathing?

Then his finger turns the page, and a minute later, to the next.

“They’re of me,” he says, his voice full of awe. He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead, and then goes back to my drawings, looking at each one carefully.

When he shuts the book, I curl up against his side, slightly lift his shirt and touch his abs. He shifts under my hand, then pulls me onto his lap, so I’m straddling him. The rug digs into my knees. Beneath my dress he sets his hands on my waist, rubbing his thumbs over my hipbones. His blue eyes stare into mine. Every noise—the entire world, seems to silence around us.

Finally he breaks it. “How about a tour of the rest of your house?”

“Like, my room?”

“Especially your room,” he growls playfully. I smack his arm and he smacks me back, and then he’s up on his feet and darting toward the staircase with me chasing after him. Our laughter rings through the house. I dart up the stairs as he checks doors on the second floor.

“Is this Kate’s room?” he asks, opening a linen closet. “Are you like Harry Potter? Do you live in a cupboard?”

I pinch his elbow. “I sleep on a shelf with the Q-tips.”

He moves on to my parents’ room, where a pair of Daddy’s dress pants lay on the chest. “Are you cheating on me?” he jokes, strutting into the room.

“Get out of here,” I say, pulling him into the hallway.

“Where are you hiding this guy who wears the fancy pants?”

“I’m hiding him in here.” I walk backward to my room, pulling Matt by an arm. His face goes serious when I push the door open with my butt.

Silently, he spends a lot of time looking around my room. I’m so glad I got rid of my kiddy bedspread for the soft white duvet and matching pillowcases. I light a few candles while he studies each of my paintings and looks at all of my books, even the ones from middle school, and when he finds the pile of pictures of me and Emily, the photos I took off the wall, he turns each frame over one by one. He laughs silently at the picture of us sitting together in the Forrest Sanctuary dunking booth at Vacation Bible School.

“Who’s this?” he asks, waving the frame. “Your friend?”

Not tonight. I can’t tell him tonight. I take a deep breath, holding out a hand. “Matt. Please.”

Then he’s moving across the room toward me, sidestepping my laundry basket, a blazing look on his face, and then we’re kissing and falling backward onto my bed. But this isn’t like at his house or on the parachute at camp. This is completely unhindered. I can’t even think as he lifts my dress up and over my head—static from my hair catching the fabric, leaving me in the lacy pink bra and panties I bought today. His eyes slowly scan my body and his breath catches in his throat.

He tosses his T-shirt and khaki shorts onto the rug, and lies on top of me, his fingers digging in my hair. Our feet twist together. His lips pepper my neck and I can’t breathe. I try to focus on the ceiling fan, going round and round and round.

“Matt, Matt,” I mumble, delirious.

He pulls away. His biceps strain as he holds himself above me. “Yeah?”

“Slow.”

We kiss and kiss, pressing against each other until I can’t take it anymore. I ignore the guilt. It’s not strong enough to make me stop. I need relief. My body feels like a bomb. It’s like he senses it, because his hand heads south and he focuses on my face and asks if it’s okay and I say yes, even though I shouldn’t let him touch me there.

I clench my eyes shut. Clutch the duvet. He gently kisses me through my underwear, and then his fingers move below until tingles rush through my body, leaving me out of breath. Relieved. Then I tug his boxers off and move my hand up and down until he comes. He breathes in and out, panting, his eyes shut tightly, and pulls me up against him.

“Wow,” he says, smiling. Just that one word makes me feel so many things. I feel proud, I feel remorse, I feel tingly all over, I feel responsibility. I feel loved.

I breathe.

“What time do you need to leave?” I ask quietly, playing with his hair.

“I don’t have a curfew. I’ll call my parents later and tell them I’m sleeping at the DTK house…Is it okay for me to stay?”

I answer him with a long kiss that leaves us both breathless again.

We relax against each other, cuddling, and he begins tracing the freckles on my arms. He touches everywhere, as if worshipping my body.

“What happened here?” he asks, rubbing a thumb over the purplish bruise on my knee.

“Tripped on a rock in the driveway. I fell.”

He drags a finger up and down my surgical scar. He talks against my lips, kissing me. “Clumsy.”

“Look away, I’m hideous,” I joke.

“Far from it. I’m the hideous one.” He chuckles, but I can hear the emotion in his voice. Does he really believe that?

He dips a hand between my legs again and guilt courses through me. I clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck, and even though my parents aren’t home, I try not to make noise.

“Why would you think you’re hideous?” I whisper.

He kisses my chin. “It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is. Tell me.” I trace the soft hair on his lower stomach and wait for an answer.

“Tom’s a lot taller than me, and he got into a better school… Sarah, um, liked him more…”

“The guy who was your best friend?”

“Yeah.”

He rolls over to focus on the ceiling, where candlelight dances. I let him think. He doesn’t say anything, so I slowly begin kissing his neck, and that turns into us making out again.

“Don’t think about Tom and Sarah anymore, okay?” I whisper. “I’m here.”

He tucks my head under his chin. And we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

•••

“What is going on?”

I sit up straight. Emily’s here. Standing in the doorway. Staring at me.

I grab my duvet up to my chest, to cover myself. I’m in only my bra and panties. She looks from the discarded clothes littering the rug to Matt, who lifts himself into a sitting position and rubs his eyes, then secures the sheet around his waist.

“Hi—” I begin, but Emily starts yelling.

“You hypocrite!” she cries.

I clutch my duvet tighter. My breathing races.

“I’m Matt,” he says, stretching a hand out to her. When she doesn’t take it, he ruffles his hair and reaches down to pick his boxers up off the floor. He doesn’t seem all that concerned he’s naked in front of someone he’s never met.

“You’ve been giving me such shit for months,” Emily exclaims, “And you’re sleeping with some random guy—”

“I’m not random,” he says, and I blurt, “We’re not sleeping together.”

“But it’s okay for you to fool around but I can’t? Jacob and I were in love and you were such a bitch anytime you found out we did something—”

She’s right. I shouldn’t have let him touch me. He shouldn’t have spent the night.

“Emily,” I try to interrupt.

“You are such a hypocrite. I can’t believe I wasted my time coming over here.”

I’m trembling. “Why did you come over?”

She looks at the ceiling, shaking her head. Tears pool, filling her lower lids. “I felt bad for how I treated you when you came by. I figured you were off work this weekend…I wanted to apologize…and maybe talk about everything. I knocked and rang the doorbell and you didn’t answer. I noticed a strange Jeep was here…I got scared. I found the spare key.” She glances at Matt, who’s now trying to wrangle himself into his underwear beneath the comforter.

“This is my boyfriend, Matt,” I mumble.

Her eyebrows furrow and lines zip across her forehead. “You didn’t tell me about him…”

“Not y–”

“I was your best friend.” She turns and slams my bedroom door.

I cover my eyes, letting the duvet fall to my waist. I let out a low cry.

“Hey, hey,” Matt whispers. “What’s wrong? What was that all about?” He tries to hug me but I shrug him away and pick my duvet back up, so he can’t see my body. He shouldn’t see any part of me. We’re not married. What was I thinking? We didn’t have sex, but last night was a sin.

We woke up in the middle of the night and started all over again. I touched him, and when I think about how good it felt when his hands explored my skin, I shudder. When he touched me with his mouth, my entire body relaxed, and I felt sensations I’d never felt before.

Tears begin to drip down my cheeks.

“Kate,” he says gently.

“Please go,” I say, wiping my face on my duvet.

He scoots closer. “No. Tell me what’s wrong. Why didn’t you tell your best friend about me?”

“She’s not my best friend anymore.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t do this. Please, just go.”

“What do you mean, go?”

“We can’t be together.”

“No—”

I stand up, pulling the sheet around me.

“Kate—please.”

“Just go! I can’t do this. Date you, I mean.” I can’t think straight when I’m with him.

“Are we breaking up?” His voice shakes.

“Yes,” I mumble, as new tears coat my face.

He bends down and picks up his T-shirt to slip it over his head. His face contorts in pain. He bites his lips together and his eyes gloss over. “Please don’t—”

I go into the bathroom, still wearing the sheet around me like a beach towel, locking the door, sitting down on the toilet. He bangs on the door and says my name. Over and over. Fritz starts barking. I lean onto my knees and count the tiny sky blue tiles because it’s the only thing I know to do.

After I don’t know how long, the knocking ends.

His voice goes away.

When I come out of the bathroom, I pull on a bathrobe and find Fritz moving in circles. I discover a note written in Matt’s shaky cursive, lying on my bed.

I
care
about
you
more
than
anything. What did I do wrong? Please, let’s not do this.

I don’t completely understand what that last line means. But it doesn’t matter.

God tested my faith, and I failed.

what happened on april 27

The sun was rising when I picked Emily up at her house.

She told her mom she was riding with me to school, but really we drove to the women’s center in Nashville. I stopped at a Walgreens, to buy all of her favorite candies. Sour Patch Kids, Twizzlers, Jolly Ranchers.

She clutched the arm rest and her lower lip trembled.

I kept reaching over to squeeze her hand.

I turned on the classical radio station for her.

I listened to her sniffle. Watched the tears fall from her eyes.

I handed her Kleenex after Kleenex.

At the clinic, a nurse escorted us into an exam room, and I helped Emily take her clothes off and slip on a flimsy paper robe. I folded her shirt, bra, underwear, and jeans into a pile. I passed her more Kleenex and tried to ignore the smell. It was probably all in my mind but I felt like chemicals were burning the inside of my nose.

A woman came in and asked Emily if she was sure, if she had explored all her options.

“Did you think deeply about this? Did you discuss it with the father?”

“Yes,” Emily lied.

I don’t think Emily’s responses would’ve changed anything, but the counselor had to ask the questions. I never stopped holding Emily’s hand except for when the doctor made me. I couldn’t stop closing my eyes.

I kept thinking of my butterfly paintings, how colors drip from the wings.

The doctor gave Emily a sedative and she finally loosened up. The tears dried up somewhat.

It was over in ten minutes.

I can’t forget.

july 8 ~ week 5 of 7

My weekend just got worse.

“Let’s go over group assignments for this week,” Megan says. “Eric, you’ve got the all-boys group. Ian, your partner is Parker. Will, you’re with Carlie. Andrea is with Brad. Matt, you’re with Kate.”

I glance up. He looks hurt and pissed.

He must’ve called a hundred times since yesterday, and he wrote me ten emails, repeating over and over how much he cares for me, wanting to know what he did wrong, telling me he misses me already. On one voicemail he said, “Is this ’cause I haven’t taken you to Just Tacos yet? Because we can fix that right now.” He laughed softly into the phone and quietly said, “Seriously, though? I want to fix whatever went wrong between us. Can we talk? You’re the most important thing, um…” He cleared his throat. Stayed silent. “Please call me back.”

I saved the voicemail and started crying all over again.

I barely pay attention during the staff meeting. Everyone decides to grill hot dogs for dinner, but I’m not hungry. I excuse myself and haul my sleeping bag and suitcase over to Bluebird in Birdland. There, I turn out the lights, curl up in bed, and try not to think, even though the sun hasn’t completely set. I can’t even cry because I’m so confused and upset and my mind is whirring thoughts around like the box fan.

I’m a hypocrite.

I can’t imagine living without Matt.

I couldn’t imagine living without Emily, either, but I’ve survived the past two months.

It’s nearly midnight when I hear the knock on the door. Is it him? I hope it is, but I hope it isn’t.

“Yeah?” I call out with a faint voice.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” It’s Parker.

I climb out of the rickety bed and pad to the screen door. A humid mist hangs around the porch light. She studies my face, which is probably swollen and covered in red blotches. I let her in, and she unrolls her sleeping bag across the bed next to mine.

“Where’s Will?” ☺

“Sleeping in Dogwood with everybody else.” She fluffs her pillow and kicks off her flip-flops.

“Wouldn’t you rather be with him?”

The corner of her mouth lifts. “I always want to be with him. But I thought we could hang out tonight.”

“Why?”

“I’m worried about you. Will told me that Matt said y’all broke up.”

I chew on my lip and crawl on top of my sleeping bag. Parker flips the light off and we lie down. Matt is the last thing I want to talk about.

“What are you majoring in at college?” I ask, watching a shadow dance on the ceiling.

Her bed creaks as she gets comfy. “Biology. I want to become a vet, I think…You?”

“I dunno.” I play with the zipper on my sleeping bag. The fan blows warm air across my face. “I’ve been thinking of design. Or something.”

“That sounds good. You’ve got the artistic skills.”

My heart swells and I nearly reach to squeeze her hand. “Thank you,” I whisper.

I listen to the crickets and try not to think about anything important. I always think about Matt when I have nothing to distract me. Tomorrow is Chicken O’ Rings Day. It’s so hot in here, I could go creek stomping right now, just to cool off. If I were the camp director, I’d get new mattresses for the cabins.

“What happened, Kate? Everything seemed to be going great for you and Matt. Did he do something wrong?”

“Nah…but I did.”

She pauses. “He wants to work things out with you.”

“I can’t think about it right now, okay?”

“Okay.” She rolls over to face the wall.

I fold my hands behind my head and bite down on my tongue to distract myself from the pain in my heart.

“Parker?” I say into the dark.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of evolution? Do you believe in God?”

She goes silent for a bit. “That’s a pretty personal question…”

I bite into my lip.

She adds, “I do believe in God, but my relationship with him is private…”

“Oh.”

“It’s nothing against you…I just don’t like to talk about it anymore…with anybody. I don’t even talk about it with my parents anymore. Or with Will.”

I smile slowly. “Thanks for telling me that.”

“I think that religion is a personal thing. It’s hard for me to share.”

Matt prays and wears a cross but still goes to parties. He hangs out with people who drink. He worships God but does it in his own way. Just like Parker. That isn’t to say that what Brother Michael and Brother John preach at church is wrong, but what if it’s different for different people?

I’ve wondered if it’s okay to worship somewhere in the middle.

But can I fit these people who worship in the middle into my life?

Can I hang out with people who don’t believe in God at all? It’s not like they’re that much different from me, really.

That’s when I hear the noise. Another knock on the door.

“Park?” I hear Will say. “You okay?”

She sits up and a smile flits across her face. She goes to the door, where she puts a hand up to the screen and he traces her fingers as they talk quietly. I can hear her explaining that I don’t need any guys hanging around tonight upsetting me, and I say a quick prayer, thanking Him for her. The friend who became a friend when I wasn’t paying attention.

And like that night Matt slept on the porch, Will drags a bed through the door and drops it onto the deck with a thud. Then he comes back in and drags another bed through the door.

Parker asks, “Why do you need two beds?”

“One’s for Matt. His idea, not mine.”

I suck in a deep breath.

Matt doesn’t speak, but he’s out there. Soon everyone is settled in their beds, and all I can hear are crickets and frogs and other animals.

Parker speaks again. “I love you, Will.”

“Love you too,” he replies.

She must’ve told him this weekend. Or did he tell her first?

My stomach leaps into my throat. I want to hear Matt say those words so bad. I wish God would tell me what to do. If I should be with Matt or if I made a big mistake when I sinned. Why would God give me Matt, someone who makes me feel so good, only to take him away? Would God really do something that selfish and mean to me?

I scrunch my pillow under my head, and the memory of our first kiss plays over and over in my mind.

When Matt speaks to me, it’s not to tell me he loves me, but somehow it’s even better.

“Kate, I’m here.”

•••

On Monday morning before the new group of campers arrive, I’m out jogging laps around the big field under a humid sunny sky when Brad runs up next to me.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I don’t want to talk about Matt,” I reply.

“No.” Brad shakes his head and even though we’re running, he snaps his eyes shut. “I did something stupid…”

Honestly, right now, I don’t care about anything except that I’m not dating Matt anymore, but the pull to be a good friend is greater. “What’d you do?”

“Yesterday morning I was down at the lake, fishing for my breakfast, and the guy who mows the grass saw me. He knows I was here on a weekend. He told on me to Megan. I told her that you and I were here together—”

“I might get fired!”

“You won’t, you won’t,” he stutters. “I told her it was all my idea. I told her you wanted to learn to fish better, so I agreed to meet you here early to practice—”

“I can’t believe you!” I touch my forehead. “You could have asked first—”

“I didn’t have time—she put me on the spot and I’m telling you now.”

“Did she fire you?”

“Not yet.” He bites into his upper lip.

“You used me…” I fold my arms across my stomach.

That’s when Megan appears on the trail. She blows her whistle, shouts, “Kate!” and beckons me toward her cabin.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my T-shirt and climb the Great Oak steps, then pull the screen door open and sit beside Megan’s desk. She settles in her chair and twirls her whistle, regarding me.

I fold my hands in my lap.

“Do you want to tell me why you were here yesterday morning before camp started?”

I touch my chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m sorry. Eric had suggested I get some pointers on fishing,” I lie. “Because I’m not very good at it—”

“Eric suggested this?” she asks, touching her lips. She looks at the wall, thinking.

“Yes,” I lie again. Eric gives so much unsolicited advice, I’m sure he’d say he suggested the extra training if asked. Even though Brad broke the rules, I don’t want him to have to go live with his drunk father. “I asked Brad to give me some extra training. I thought it would be okay since it was just a few hours before camp started and you made me get that extra help in campfires from Eric that time—”

She holds up a hand. “Okay, okay.”

Am I about to get fired?

She fluffs her curly hair and stares me down. “You knew the rules.”

“I apologize,” I say with a strong voice. We have three weeks left. If Brad were to get fired, he would miss out on a thousand bucks. What if he had to live with his dad again? What if his dad hurt him bad?

Sometimes it’s okay to do the wrong thing if you’re helping someone, I guess. But I hate lying.

“It won’t happen again,” I say.

She twirls her whistle and takes a deep breath. “Because Eric had suggested the training, I’ll let this go with a warning on your written record. But if you make any other mistakes this summer, I’m afraid I’ll have to tell the regional conference to let you go. I won’t risk my job or my future on employees who disregard everything I say.”

My eyes burn. I’ve worked hard this summer. Hard. And it’s not like she tells me I’m doing a good job very often. What if my church finds out Megan thinks I’m a bad employee? My parents?

With one lie, I let Brad ruin all my hard work. And even though I understand why he did it, he threw me under the bus.

I tell Megan, “Understood.”

I rush out of Great Oak, storm past Brad into the bathhouse, and stare in the mirror as the tears streak my face. The paper towels feel like sandpaper against my skin.

Carlie comes in to use the bathroom and catches me wiping my cheeks at the sink. Red circles ring my eyes. She washes her hands, and in the mirror, I watch as she gives me a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry about Matt,” she whispers, stealing a glance over her shoulder.

I blow my nose. “Thanks. Me too.”

Before she pushes the screen door open, Carlie says, “I know how much he cares about you.”

I stay in the bathhouse until it’s time for campers to arrive. When I push the screen door open, letting it slam behind me, I find Ian and Carlie talking quietly. He gives me a long hug and says, “I’m here if you want to talk.”

As we walk together to the welcome pavilion, I peek at them out of the corner of my eye. They waited for me? They are better friends with Andrea than with me, but staying behind to make sure I’m okay is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.

After the kids have checked in, Matt and I lead our group of eight-year-olds along the trails back to the Bluebird cabins.

It seems that all of the little girls packed way too much. It’s like they were planning to be away from home for months, because Matt has tons of bags draped over his arms and shoulders. I can’t help but smile at him carrying a Hello Kitty purse.

“Why did y’all bring so much stuff?” yells Charles, a little boy. I can already tell he’ll be a handful.

“Hey, hey,” Matt says to Charles. “You never say things like that to a lady. The reason they have so much stuff is so they have all the outfits they need to look beautiful every day.”

“Awww,” says Isabella, a girl with blond curls.

On the inside, I’m saying awww too. On the inside, it’s killing me that I broke things off with him. But what else am I supposed to do? I can’t control myself when he’s around.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks me as he lugs all the bags and purses up the rickety wooden steps to my cabin.

I look over at him and nod, telling myself not to cry again.

Once the kids have unpacked their stuff, we sit Indian style on Matt’s porch and play the animal introduction game.

“I’m Spider Scott,” says a wiry boy.

“I’m Lizard Leslie,” says a girl, chewing gum.

“I’m Miniature Poodle Matt.”

The kids roar with laughter. I look into his questioning eyes. I pick at my thumbnail, ripping my cuticle, wishing I didn’t have to be so close to him this week. Miniature Poodle Matt reminds me of our first kiss. It reminds me of how he said I saved him.

“I’m King Crab Kate,” I say, and he glances away.

He says, “After we go over camp rules, who wants to play my special new dodgeball game?”

The kids start screaming, “Me! Me!”

I pull my knees to my chest. On the inside, I’m screaming “Me!” too.

At lunch, Brad scoots a chair up next to me. “You okay? Did you get in trouble?”

I deliberately turn to face him. “Written warning.”

He blows air out, nodding. “Thank you. Seriously.” His eyes dart around.

“Did you get a written warning?”

His mouth falls open, then he closes it. He shakes his head.

“What if I ever want a job referral?! I can’t believe this,” I say through gritted teeth.

“You’re a good friend.”

“I’m not sure why you care,” I hiss. “Isn’t your big plan to blow out of Tennessee in a couple weeks? You didn’t want any connections, right? So why would hurting a friend like me matter?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He gulps down some lemonade, peeking at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry too.” I stand, pick up my tray, and move to sit with another group of campers. I grab a seat next to a little redheaded girl who immediately asks if I love Barbies.

“Of course,” I reply with a smile. “I also like American Girl. You?”

“Yes!” She pops a chicken o’ ring in her mouth and chews with her mouth open.

A few tables away, Matt’s talking with Andrea. She’s up to her same old antics, touching his arms and laughing at everything he says. He smiles back at her, but it’s a blank smile. It’s not the smile I’ve seen so many times. His expression is dark and sad.