“I really don’t know what to do. I want to find a way to end their relationship without having Jamie know it was me.”
>19
It’s 2:39 in the morning.
My heart is racing. I’m sweating and chugging water and feeling helpless.
I turn on the lamp, grab the pen, and, at the end of a very, very long note about boys and darkness and adulterers and liars, I write this simple addendum:
It’s not Dad.
Then somehow, amazingly, I will myself to sleep.
MONDAY
1/30 (Sun.)
Outfit:
—Faded Levi’s
—Red sweatshirt
School:
—Bring book for English
—Review drills for Spanish quiz before school
—Buy SAT prep book
Important stuff:
Jamie. Still not speaking. Try asking her to help with finding Dad (read back and look in the big envelope in the desk). Also, try to think of a plan to help end her tragic relationship.
Mom. See the big envelope mentioned above.
Luke. SUPERHOT BOYFRIEND! He’ll be there before school with coffee and food of some sort; don’t worry about breakfast. Dating almost three and a half months. Supergood kisser. Flip through notes and check out the photos all over the room. See Saturday’s note about a party at his friend Adam’s house. Today, we went to the movie Elephant Bride and it was really stupid but the day was fun anyway. I beat him at a fighting video game before the movie. I was the Red Warrior.
Held hands the whole movie and shared popcorn; he called me a popcorn hog. Went to his house after and he played his guitar for me for a while until Mom called and told me to come home for dinner. We kissed before I got out of the car. Yum. Oh, he drives a minivan— don’t hold it against him.
20
What I’m really thinking right now is “whoa.” What comes out of my mouth, miraculously, is a simple, sultry, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” he says, backlit and beautiful, standing on my porch with a lidded coffee cup in his hand. I can see his breath in the frigid air as it escapes his mouth.
There is something overwhelming about the moment. His unwavering gaze, effortless smile, and obvious ease, combined with the February sunrise, make me feel like my legs might give out underneath me.
“Ready?” he asks gently.
“Yep,” I say, in a measured tone that I’m surprised I’m capable of using. I follow him from the porch to the minivan idling in the driveway.
I thought I was prepared.
This morning, I read months of notes. I flipped through dozens of photos.
But Luke in real life is something else.