Wicked Restless

I glance at Andrew, and his hands flex as they grip the steering wheel, his jaw tightening as he swallows. He looks to me, but only briefly before turning back to the road.

“Are your parents still there? In that house? I…haven’t driven by since the last time I saw you.” His eyes rake over me once again, and I wonder what he must have seen. I remember that day—it was homecoming our junior year. My mother had bought me a pink dress that showed my bare shoulders, but covered my chest completely. I had been worried about people seeing my scar. It was the most expensive dress I’d ever owned, but she didn’t care about the price tag. She wanted me to experience something normal and not have to worry about what people saw. I found out about her cancer the day after the dance.

“My dad lives in Woodstock still. He put the house up for sale…after my mom died. But it’s not an easy sale. He’s still there,” I say.

Andrew sinks deep into his seat, his hands running down the wheel to rest at the bottom. He glances out his side window and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“There’s no way you could have,” I say.

The bridge between us is so small and fragile. I hate to say anything more for fear that it will wash it all away. For so long, he was gone. And then he was only a wound—something that left me feeling hopeless. Maybe something I also tried to forget. I didn’t mean to. I think I just had to forget him, or at least hide him from my heart. It wasn’t right—and my heart, it knew he was there all along anyhow. The guilt over what he’d done for me, it was always tempting me, begging me to feel. All it took was seeing him to bring it back to life. And now that I know…now that I know! Right now, thanks to our words, secrets finding the surface—Andrew feels close; I can’t lose him, even what little of him I have.

I’ll take what little I have, whatever he’ll give.

We pull up in front of my building, and my shoulders sag from the weight of everything else I wish I had the courage to say. I want more time—more mornings like this one. I want to travel back five years ago and fix things. I want to have known the truth then, to have gotten to decide for myself. And I want Lindsey not to be tangled in with our story. She is, and because she is, I’m slightly paralyzed. But my heart…it’s still reeling after his words. And at the very least, there are some things he deserves to know…things he deserves to hear.

“Thank you for the ride,” I say, grabbing my purse, clutching it to my chest. Be brave, Emma. Be brave. My heart is pounding underneath my grip. I close my eyes tightly, willing myself to get one thing out—to be raw and honest just once. “And thank you for what you did for me, Andrew—that night, for taking my place. You saved my life. You’ll never know, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t know, and I’m so angry right now that I can’t even think clearly. But…just…you were always my angel. Just please know that. There hasn’t been a night that’s passed that I haven’t wished for you to show up at my window just so I could tell you that,” I say, my words falling out fast, my lips quivering, my hands shaking, my body sweating and flushed.

Somewhere in the middle of everything, I start to cry. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I blow air out through my lips, trying to regain my center, my world tilting just from the way he looks sitting there. I want him to look at me. I want him to tell me it’s okay, that what he went through wasn’t so bad. But he can’t, because that would be a lie. Nothing is okay. None of what happened is all right—and Andrew is ruined because of it…because of me! My selfishness ruined him. My broken heart broke his—and I have to live with that.

“I just need you to know that one thing,” I speak, my voice strained as I try to hold the meltdown that is seconds away at bay. “And I’m sorry if I didn’t say it well or if I sound crazy right now. I think maybe I might be a little.” I laugh and cry at the same time, my eyes falling closed. I’m losing it—cracking up. “I can’t even look at you, I’m so embarrassed and scared, but…okay. Yeah. Just…you.” I pause, breathing in deeply, looking down into my own hands that are clinging to each other. “Andrew, everything would have been different. I swear.”

I glance up at him once before I pull the door handle and push the door open. His eyes are intent on his knuckles, and his grip in front of him is tight, his hands wringing on the leather of his steering wheel. He nods once slowly, but doesn’t turn to face me.