Riding the Universe (17 page)

Does Gordon even know what it's like to be put on-hold like this? Has anyone, in his entire privileged life, ever told him to wait, to stand by while they decide how they feel about him? Has he ever been the victim of anyone's doubt?
Probably not. So I
have
to forgive him for doing this to me. Because he just doesn't understand. If he
knew
how it felt, he wouldn't do it.

I turn the flashlight off and wait for my eyes to adjust again.

Betelgeuse seems brighter tonight. So do Arcturus, Regulus, and even Spica. I want to give the stars the dedication they've given me. I want to watch them forever, maybe even reach them one day. If I'm going to spend so much time staring at the skies, I may as well make a career out of it. But I'm pretty sure you need passing grades for that, so I have to keep working as hard as I have. Maybe I can get a job at Miami's planetarium this summer. It'll help pay for the investigation, and hopefully, even a new telescope. Not a cheapie one, but one of those apochromatic babies with the five-inch apertures.

My phone rings the new tune I've added. Sabine. “Hello?”

“Hi, Chloé.”

“Hey! I just finished the work you gave me.”

“That's awesome. Go, you.” She laughs a little.

“Yeah, I think I'm ready for the final. I couldn't have done it without you, so thanks.”

“You're welcome.” She hesitates. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, what's up?”

“I know we agreed not to talk about Gordon, but considering what you're going through and the fact that I went through the same shit because of him, you should know something.”

“What is it?” I ask, amused on the one hand at hearing the word
shit
come from the mouth of Sabine Jimenez, but dreading, on the other hand, that she has news about Gordon.

I can hear her hesitation over the line. I don't know who will take whatever she has to say harder—me or her. “I think he's moving.”

I hear her. I do. But it makes no sense. There's no way Gordon could have told everybody about this surprise announcement before telling me, his girlfriend, who loves him, who adores him.

I blink. “Moving to another place in Miami, or…”

“No, to Boston,” she says.

I do my best to keep my voice calm and my thoughts rational. I bite my lip hard before asking, “He told you this?”

“My friend who's in calculus with him heard him telling Philip.”

“Philip?” Of all people. I can hear the blood rushing inside my head, like a broken levee against my eardrums.

“Chloé, if we weren't friends, I wouldn't have told you anything. In fact, I probably would've enjoyed this. But we
are
friends. At least I think so.”

“We are,” I say, and I do get the sense she's telling me this because she doesn't want to see me clueless anymore, not because she's enjoying breaking the news to me. “Thanks. I'll call you back.”

“Chloé?” her voice pleads.

“Yeah.”

“Don't be mad at me.”

“Of course not.”

“It was only fair you should know.”

Yup. Got that right. “I know. Thanks, Sabine.” I hang up, and for a moment, I just sit there. I imagine Gordon's car pulling up to the dock. He's come over to apologize, to tell me how much he loves me. To say that the time we spent was not wasted. That he's thought things through and wants us to move forward with our relationship. That the news about him leaving isn't true.

But then I'm back in the present, and I know in my heart of hearts that there are truths and there are lies. And I'd have to be stupid, blind, or both…not to see which one is which.

M
y chest pounds at the sight of his house, the place of our middle-of-school-day trysts. His room light glows in the darkness. My heart is beating between my ears.

Closing the truck door softly behind me, I head up the brick-paved path to Gordon's house. This is the first time I've actually ever rung the doorbell. He's going to be miffed when he sees me. It takes a minute, but the front door finally clicks and opens. A small woman with brown hair pops through. Gordon's mom. “Yes?”

“Hi.” I smile like the innocent, smart girl I am. “Is Gordon here?”

“He is,” she says, a tinge of Russian
z
in her
s
. “But it's
eleven o'clock. Can I help you?”

The absurdity of what I'm doing hits me hard. “Oh. I didn't realize the time. I'll call him tomorrow. I'm sorry to bother you.” I start heading for the truck.

“Are you Chloé?”

My heart sinks when I turn and see her narrowed eyes. “Yes.”

She leans on the door frame. “Do you realize that my husband and I know you've been spending time here while we're not home?”

My body freezes, my eyes glance at the perfectly laid brick pattern of the walkway.

“I wonder if your mother knows about it. Or should I ask her myself?” she asks accusingly.

My eyes glue themselves to hers. Not a moment of regret creeps in to humble me. Her son is just as responsible for our behavior as I am. I have not done anything to corrupt him, if that's what she's suggesting. I accept that I will always seem like a bad influence to some people.

“You have nothing to say?” she asks.

“I wanted to meet you properly,” I say slowly. “I've wanted to for a long time now. But Gordon insisted on doing it this way.”

“I'm sure my son had his reasons.” She looks me up and down like there's something wrong with what I'm wearing.

“Sorry to bother you.” I turn around to leave before I blow up on her.

“Mom.” Gordon appears at the door in pajama pants and a T-shirt. “I'll handle it.”

The usual mixed feelings of anger and elation at seeing him well up inside my throat.

“Be quick. It's late,” she says coldly, finally breaking her hard stare at me. Gordon nods and closes the door behind him.

“Great, now I've gone from being a secret to being a problem to be dealt with.” I lean against a column, kicking it with my heel.

“Why are you here?” he asks. Not in a rude way. Just seems curious.

“Why am I here,” I repeat. “Well, let's see…about a month ago, you told me to give you some space because you needed to work things out. But you haven't called, haven't given me any updates…nothing. Yet your words gave me all this hope that maybe we'd get back together once school was over. So I'm here because school is almost over, and I think we need to talk about it now.”

“But Chloé, this is bad timing. I have finals in a few days.”

“
We
, Gordon.
We
have finals in a few days. You're not the only one with important things to do.”

He runs his hands through his hair nervously. “I just…I still don't know.” He shakes his head.

“Don't know what? You keep saying that, Gordon. But I need a better answer.”

“You deserve a better answer. I'm just not able to give it to you. I'm sorry, but I'm just not.”

I chew on my top lip. “If you don't want to be with me anymore, then just say it so I can move on.”

“It's not that I don't want to,” he says, looking at me in
the most genuine way possible. “You're incredible, Chloé. You're funny, smart, beautiful…I really do love you.”

His words slice right through me. I feel my nose flaring from how hard I'm trying not to lose it.

“I always have a great time when I'm with you,” he goes on, his face wracked with conflict. “You probably think that's bullshit based on the way I'm acting, but it's not. It's the truth.”

“But…” I prompt, waiting for the
stellacular
reason why he'd be willing to give up all these great things if they're so true.

He lifts his hand and resigns, letting it fall hard against his side. “But we can't be together.”

We can't be together.
The words hurt me, yet at the same time, give me insurmountable strength. Truth. Reassuring, painful truth.
We can't be together.
That's my answer. But I knew this right from the very beginning, didn't I? I just didn't listen to the warnings. I knew that Gordon already had a master plan in place and that I was never a part of that plan. More like an interruption.

“Right.” My brain tries processing a world of other truths, like that I'll never again feel his kiss on my lips, never again lie in those arms, the ones he's now folding in front of him. Never again will we talk about the things that make me feel important and smart.

“It's not what you think.” He blinks softly.

“You don't know what I think,” I say softly, shaking my head. Let's see how long it takes him to come clean. I know Sabine's not lying about his moving. I've seen her for who she is now, and I can say that with 100 percent certainty.

“You're right. I don't.”

“So what is it, Gordon? I want to hear the big reason why we can't be together if you still love me.”

He takes a deep breath then lets it out real slow. “I'm leaving, Chloé. I'm going back to Boston. As soon as school finishes.”

He waits for my reaction, but I don't give him much of one. If he really loved me with all his heart, he would try to find a way to stay and be near me. I know that's a very “linear” way to think, but I can't think rationally right now.

“You don't look too surprised,” he says.

“I would be, if I hadn't already heard this from someone else.” I enjoy the awesome look of shock on his face before continuing.

He covers his mouth, blowing air out against his hand. “I'm sorry.”

“You bet your ass you're sorry,” I say, feeling the irreversible Chloé come creeping in. “Why are you leaving?”

“Because MIT has a better engineering summer intensive? Because my brother's there, because my dad's original job is there…I could give you a million reasons. My dad was managing the regional offices here, but he can just as easily—”

I don't care about his dad, brother, goat, or chickens. “So this is more their decision. You didn't really have a choice in the m—”

“No, it's what
I
want,” he interrupts.

Not, “
I have no control over the situation
,” but “
It's what I want
.” I try not to let my jaw hang open. “Did you know all this when we were together? When we almost did it at the
dock? Or any of the days you snuck me up there?” I point to his room. “In the three months we were together, you couldn't have told me? In the past month I've been
waiting
for you, you couldn't have said something?”

“I didn't want to complicate things while we considered the pros and cons. We just decided for sure.”

“Well, hooray for you,” I say, because I'm lacking any other brilliant comebacks.

“Chloé,” he says slowly. “Remember I asked you not to get your hopes up with me? Remember I tried to warn you?”

“Well, I thought it was a general sort of warning, as in ‘We're not good for each other,' which I already knew was bull, because we
are
good for each other. Had you actually said, ‘Because I'll be moving this summer,' I might not have let myself get so attached to you. I might not have let myself fall in love with you, but I did, and you didn't do anything to stop it either.”

Why does my chest feel like it's splitting open?

“You're right. I shouldn't have strung you along. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner. But as much as I love you, care about you, I'm not sure we were really
in love
, Chloé. Maybe we were in love with the idea of being in love. That happens to people all the time.”

You know, I should have seen this. There he is, the same Gordon of “to adore means to worship” fame, and he doesn't worship anybody. He made that very clear. That was the real warning right there. The only thing I can manage to say is, “You're right, this love thing was all a part of my evil plan to throw you off course.”

“Funny. But you have to admit a big part of your agenda at first was to do just that—to hold me back.”

“What? You can't be serious!”

“
Shh
. My mom,” he whispers. “Yes, I'm serious, with your ‘Let's leave, let's get out of here,' and your pulling me off track when I was supposed to be focusing on my studies.”

I ignore his plea for quiet. “Fuck your studies! You had full control of your actions, Gordon. I didn't put a gun to your head. Or did you forget that you were your own person capable of making your own choices? I had to study just as much as you did. For different reasons maybe, but I did.”

“Yeah, so you don't lose your motorcycle.” He says motorcycle like it's a tricycle.

“Like I said, different reasons.”

“And that's my point. Our priorities are different. They've always been. Look, forget it. I'm not interested in hurting you any more than I already have.”

“Well, that's noble of you.”

For a minute, we're quiet. Yes, our priorities are different, but I thought we had rubbed off on each other and become more balanced people. I know it's my last act of desperation, but I search his eyes, hoping that something—a memory of us at the dock, or in his room, or one of our incredibly long kisses will make him reconsider.

But he just blinks softly, as if waiting for me to make the next move.

“The only thing I ever wanted,” I say calmly now, “was for you to smile and be happy. Because, guess what, Gordon? Life is short. And you never know if you'll die tomorrow.
Then all that planning for the future will have gone to waste.”

“I appreciate your way of thinking, Chloé, I really do. And I know it stems from your experience with your uncle, but we still can't be together right now. I mean, if you need me for anything, absolutely anything, I'll still be here a few weeks longer, but otherwise…”

Slowly, I absorb reality. It's over. “Then this is it.”

He reaches for me, but I shy back. “Don't do that, Chloé. I have to know that you're going to be okay.”

In his face, I don't see a villain. I don't see a player or an asshole. I see a boy who really cares about me, but at the end of the day, I just didn't make it into his sticky-note organizer of Life Priorities. He's getting back on track.

I nod, rubbing my eyes. “Yeah, I'll be okay,” I say. I have no choice. “Don't worry about me, Gordon.”

“You sure?” I can tell he's asking more for his own peace of mind than for my benefit.

So many thoughts threaten to spill. How he's giving up too easily, how we should give it a fair chance, how he'll be sorry he let me go when he finds himself alone in his room at night wondering what I'm doing…but I know two things. One, that nothing I say can change his mind at this point, and two…

I think of Rock when he told me that I would be numero uno on his list and remember the afternoon from hell at his house when he proclaimed steadfast willingness to change his entire lifestyle just for me. Ambitious willingness but noble.
That, Chloé, is loyalty. Not this.

“Yes, I'm sure.” I give him a sad smile. “I'll see you
around, Gordon. We'll keep in touch during our senior year and in college. Maybe even get back together in the future. When the time is right.”

Gordon smiles brightly. “See, now, there's an idea. We could do that.”

I was being facetious, but that's how clueless Brain Boy is sometimes. I'll never be his highest priority. He'll always have projects to finish, professors to talk to, recommendations to secure. There will always be bigger, greater ambitions that will be more important than me. And I don't have time for boys who don't have time for me.

So I take in the look in his beautiful hazel eyes, then lean forward to kiss him one last time. He leans in to accept it. I can feel a part of him breaking down, a little slice of his thoughts regretting his own decision. And as satisfying as that might feel, I'm finished. Quickly, I turn and head back to the truck.

“Just so you know,” I say, opening the door and climbing in, “you might have been in love with the idea of love, but I wasn't. I loved you for real.” Then, before he has a chance to see my tears, I close the truck door and back out of the driveway.