Elevated (8 page)

But here’s Travis gazing at me with those love-sick eyes,

A face full of
pain

Hurt

Love

Anger

Frustration

Sorrow

Hope.

His eyes plead with me to trust him enough to let him see the pieces inside.

“Please, Elly,” he begs. “Talk to me.”

I SWALLOW,

Determined to clamp my mouth shut

So he’ll never know what real hurt is,

So he’ll never have to think of me badly,

So he’ll never know everything.

Instead, “You used me,” comes out,

Raw and alien.

“I know. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You said I wasn’t your best friend with benefits.”

“I—”

But I’m on a roll,

The dam of accusations breaking,

Flooding out of my mouth before I can edit them.

“You said you loved me.

That you’d break up with her.

You’d tell her everything when she came home.

That you wouldn’t blame me,
That you’d shoulder it all.”

Fat, hot tears stream down my face.

My voice cracks,

My throat aches,

My stomach threatens to empty its contents.

I look at him,

See him clearly for the first time,

Stand up so I’m more powerful that he is.

“You said you were sorry,

Over and over and over.

You said everything would be fine,

You said we could tell her we’d started dating after she calmed down,

And I was stupid enough to believe you.”

I ball my fists,

Let the anger course through me,

Slump against the wall and slide down it.

He kneels in front of me,

Takes me by the shoulders.

“I know, I know,

I knowIknowIknowIknowIknow.”

But he’s not angry,

He’s not trying to make anything better,

He just knows.

The tether between us is still there,

Torn in two ragged pieces.

MY BODY HEAVES WITH SOBS,

The words I want to scream at him barely more than hiccups.

He holds me tight in his strong arms,

The way he has before, once,

The way I’ve needed him to again—and he didn’t—

But this time it’s different.

This time,

He can’t make it all better with his brilliant smile,

His throaty voice,

A kiss,

A promise of always and forever.

I see him differently now.

I see him with clear edges,

Faults.

I blame him for so many things,

Too many things,

Some things I have no right to blame him for.

With Travis and me, there are very few comforts left.

HONESTY WENT TO EUROPE FOR THE SUMMER,

Left me and Travis alone,

Left me a pre-paid cell phone because my mom still wouldn’t let me have my own.

The day after she returned to Chicago,

I met her at the mall,

Both of us having arrived on separate buses.

Mom couldn’t drive me because she had to take the twins to their karate match,

And Travis didn’t come anywhere near us when we went shopping.

Honesty pulled me toward Macy’s,

Asked, “So how was your summer?”

Going right for the jugular whether she knew it or not.

“Just fine,” I answered,

Tried to keep my voice as dull as possible.

How could I tell her about the past two months without mentioning Travis?

About the way we sometimes took a blanket to the roof,

Watched the clouds drift over the city?

Or listening to him whisper in our midnight phone calls,

Hearing the pain in his voice,

The way it wavered when his mom didn’t come home over the Fourth of July.

I couldn’t say those things.

So I talked about the dozens of hours I spent playing video games,

Laughing with Jesse,

Working at the Cineplex,

Making dinner,

Cleaning Trav’s apartment.

Safe things,

Things she already knew.

How could I tell Honesty about driving to the beaches of Lake Michigan

With the windows down,

The radio loud,

Trav’s hand resting on my thigh?

I certainly couldn’t tell her about the make-out session that followed.

How could I tell her that I’d become the person both Trav and Jesse needed?

That they called me in their lowest moments?

That the three of us started moonlighting on the roof in sunglasses?

How could I tell her how Trav and I worked the same shift at the Cineplex,

Took our breaks together,

Snuck into the late showings,

Giggled and held hands through the previews?

How could she understand the holes he filled in me,

The dams I plugged for him,

The way he’d ask about my dad,

The way I filled his apartment when his mom didn’t come home?

I couldn’t,

Wouldn’t,

Didn’t.

LAST SUMMER HELD SO MANY WORDS,

So many things I didn’t say,

Trav didn’t say.

Jesse did, though.

He seemed to be the only one

Who could.

I interrupted them once after work.

I just wanted to check in on them,

See if Trav’s mom had come back.

The apartment door wasn’t closed,

The hall on fourteen wasn’t silent,

Jesse’s words weren’t nice.

“…if you think you’re the only one to fall for your best friend,

You’re wrong.”

Jesse’s voice,

Brimming with anger.

“Everyone has a summer fling.

If that’s what this is—”

Trav cut him off

With a low current of fury

In his tone.

I couldn’t hear his words

Over the slap-slap of my feet.

I pushed open the door,

Saw them faced off in the living room,

Jesse’s hands clenched,

Trav’s jaw working overtime.

They both turned to look at me.

“Summer fling?” came out of my mouth,

Shocked,

Small,

Foreign.

Jesse stepped closer,

Said, “He hasn’t broken up with her,” and

“I don’t know if it’s a fling or not,” and

“He could call and end it now—why hasn’t he?” and

“You’re too good for him.”

Every word made Travis angrier,

Each syllable added to the tension in his shoulders,

But he didn’t say anything,

Didn’t move.

Just looked at me,

Breathed with me,

Loved me.

To Trav, Jesse said,

“You shouldn’t be hooking up with her

While you still have a girlfriend.”

“We are
not
hooking up,” I managed to say

While Trav said nothing.

Was kissing hooking up?

Did going to the movies count as hooking up?

Does playing Xbox and eating dinner together mean we’d been hooking up?

Jesse made an exploding sound with his breath,

Grabbed me by the wrist,

Pulled me into the hall.

As the door swung closed,

I turned to look at Trav.

He stood there,

Watching,

His chest heaving,

Silent.

Just before I lost sight of him,

His shoulders deflated,

His fists unclenched.

Why couldn’t he say anything?

Why hadn’t he moved to comfort me?

Why wasn’t he following us?

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” I DEMANDED

Once we were in the elevator.

“You’re a jerk.”

Jesse said nothing,

Punched the button for the roof.

“Has his mom come home?” I asked.

The elephant elevator groaned.

“Have you guys paid rent?” I asked.

Something above us clanged.

“When’s the last time you ate?” I asked.

A beep sounded as we passed my floor.

“Do you really think this is a fling?” I asked.

The doors slid open to reveal a summer night,

Not quite dark,

Still muggy,

Hot,

Perfect.

Jesse exited the elevator without me;

I followed him to the edge of the roof.

He leaned against the wall;

I sat next to his feet.

Talking would be easier without having to

Look him in the eye.

I waited.

I’d learned that Jesse needed time to order his words,

The same way I did.

“His mom didn’t stay,

But she left money on the counter for rent.”

“That’s something,” I said.

“Yeah,” Jesse said.

More silence.

Increased nerves.

Stronger worry.

“I brought home pizza tonight.

We’re doing okay.”

“Okay,” I echoed.

Longer silence.

Deeper shadows.

Stretched patience.

My butt felt numb,

Yet I didn’t move.

“I don’t know if it’s a fling,” Jesse finally said.

“I don’t know if he’s using you because

He’s lonely,

Scared,

Sad,

Or what.”

He took a deep breath.

“I hope like hell he’s not.

I’ll kill him.”

“What did he say just before I came in?”

“He denied it,

Said he really was in love with you.”

The sand on the concrete crunched

As he settled beside me.

“Why hasn’t he broken up with her yet?”

I examined my fingernails,

Looking for an answer,

While I mentally recited
eenie, meenie, miney, mo
.

“I don’t know,” I finally said.

“You’re too good for him,” Jesse said,

For the hundredth time.

“I know you like him,

But I’m not sure he’s worth it.”

“He’s your cousin,” I snapped.

“You know his situation better than anyone.

Shouldn’t you be defending him?”

Jesse reached over and took my hand in his.

It felt warm and safe,

Cooled the fear bubbling inside,

The rage.

“His situation is my situation,” Jesse said gently,

Softly,

Calmly.

“You think I don’t understand where he’s coming from?”

My eyes felt too tight,

My throat too thick.

“I do,” Jesse said.

“But
I
would never lead you on like this.”

“He’s not leading—”

“I would never go out with you,

Kiss you,

Without breaking everything off with everyone else first.

So that you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That I’d do anything to be with you.”

THAT TIME ON THE ROOF,

Jesse held me while I cried,

While I wondered why Trav didn’t want to do everything to be with me.

That time on the roof,

Jesse’s voice erased the hurt,

Eased the pain,

Whispered reassurances.

That time on the roof,

Jesse provided the anchoring I needed,

The friendship that grounded me.

That time on the roof,

I was glad Jesse wasn’t Travis.

TRUTH:

When Honesty left for the summer,

She left a gap inside me that needed filling.

Jesse had been there.

Travis had been there.

I’d been just as happy with the two of them,

Without their money,

As I had been with Honesty

With hers.

That truth hurt,

And it grew,

And when it was said out loud,

Bad things happened.

I HADN’T SEEN HONESTY FOR TWO MONTHS.

I should be excited,

Should be happy to hear about her sight-seeing,

Her shopping,

Her flirtations.

Honesty had been my whole world pre-Trav.

“Everything was boring without you,” I said,

Bumped her with my hip,

Brought the best-friend smile to her face.

“You had Trav.”

She fingered the fabric of a black dress,

Didn’t look at me.

“And Jesse,” I said,

Because it was true.

Jesse had carved something special inside me,

Something I couldn’t name.

“Don’t forget Jesse,” I repeated,

So she’d know I didn’t spend
all
my time with

Her boyfriend.

“You kiss him yet?” she asked.

“We’re not like that,” I said,

Pushed the hangers around.

“Jesse’s just a friend.”

Honesty nodded,

Mm-hmm’ed.

“Trav didn’t call as much as I thought he would.”

She moved to another rack,

Her eyes purposely searching for sizes and price tags,