It took a while for that memory not to bury me. I knew I’d only be able to forgive myself for such a blunder by proving to him and to myself that I could handle this relationship. I was handling it by doing what he’d asked.
Waiting.
I often wondered if he ever thought of me. Sometimes I caught him looking at me with something more than how he looked at Leesa or anyone else. I forced myself to ignore it. I wanted to give him enough time to breathe.
Think. Wonder. Miss.
My past had taught me that if I pulled back, whatever I wanted came right to my hand. At first, I doubted this would happen with James. He’d taught me that the years between us were thick with significance, layered with nuances that made a difference.
More than anything I wanted to leap forward and catch up with him. I was certain I could, without having to actually live the years. I was certain he thought I could not.
So I stepped back. I was friendly but distant, helpful without being threatening. It was easy, because I set my mind to doing whatever it took to gain his faith again.
Finals stole my mind from James, from wanting him for a few weeks. I poured myself into studying. Dad and I even took a quick trip up to USC to check out living options in L.A. Things between he and I started to loosen up, like a jar that had had its lid screwed on too tight and could breathe again. I listened to my iPod on the drive while Dad talked to the office. By the time the weekend was over and we’d looked at dozens of apartments and dorms, we were able to chat a little on the drive home.
June meant graduation. Saying goodbye. I hoped James was coming to the ceremony but I was afraid to ask – more of that not being threatening. I sent out hundreds of announcements at Dad’s request. One, I tucked into my locker just for James. I slipped one of my senior portraits in it but I couldn’t bring myself to give it to him. To him, it might just be another reminder of where I came from, rather than what I was leaving.
Still, the passage of graduation would mean I was free.
He was free. I’d been counting on that almost as much as I’d been counting on my diploma as a symbol of my independence.
The last day of school for seniors was spent signing yearbooks. In Concert Choir, kids sat in their chairs, exchanging books. James had his usual classical CD playing.
Mozart. His favorite. The melodies made me ache deep down, thinking about how much I would miss him. Miss the class and his music. As I stood in the doorway with my yearbook against my breasts, I knew I couldn’t wait much longer.
James stood at the piano, surrounded by kids waiting for him to sign. He wore a light pink button-down shirt, dark tie and khakis. I loved the way his hair curled at the back of his collar.
Engrossed in what he was doing, he didn’t see me.
I went to the risers and sat. I hadn’t been sitting two minutes before a group of whispering girls tentatively approached me.
I smiled. “Hey.”
One held out her yearbook. “Hey. Would you sign my book, Eden?”
I didn’t even know her name. Embarrassing. “Sure.” I took her book and opened it. Thankfully, her name had already been inscribed by dozens of her friends—Kaylyn.
Kaylyn,
Keep singing. Listen to classical music.
Eden
I happened to glance below where I’d signed and saw James’ name. Since Kaylyn was chatting with the girls she’d come over with, I quickly read the inscription.
Keep singing.
Mr. Christian
I smiled. Handing back her book, I glanced at James again, still surrounded, still scribbling away. “There you go, Kaylyn.”
She blushed. “Thanks.”
“Could you sign mine, too?” Her timid friend asked.
“Sure.”
I signed all five of their books. Memorized all their names and swore in my heart to say hi to them whenever I saw them again.
Leesa stood behind them, like she was at an author book signing. “Leesa, hey.”
“Hey.” She sat next to me. “Will you sign my book?”
“Of course.”
“Want me to sign yours?”
“After all the years we’ve known each other?
Absolutely.”
I read some of the comments Leesa’s friends had written, they blared up at me like neon in brightly colored pen.
Leesa,
Your smile’s the best ever. And you’re the best ever friend.
Darla
Leesa-bird,
Let’s hang out this summer. Even if you can’t go to the beach, let’s do something. Whatever you want. Don’t forget to call me. 310-2294. And here’s my email:
[email protected] Love you tons, Margo
Leesa, You’re the sweetest, nicest friend. Let’s not forget each other, k? I hope you’re feeling better soon and that things don’t get worse. Keep in touch.
I love you, Steph.
A pit opened in my stomach. Was Leesa okay? I hadn’t heard anything, but then we didn’t hang with the same crowd. I signed her book and waited for her to finish mine.
It looked like she was writing a novel. I felt bad I hadn’t written more.
Then she looked at me with her sunny smile and we exchanged books.
“Thanks.” She looked like I’d just handed her a million dollars.
“Hey, are you okay?”
My question startled her. I felt bad that she would find it surprising that I would ask. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Eden.”
I watched her walk to an empty corner, open the book and read. I took a deep breath, stood and crossed to her.
She tore her gaze from the words I’d written and her blue eyes met mine.
“Are you sure everything is all right?” I pressed.
She looked pleased I was asking, and her lips curved up. “I had a blood test that was kind of bad. But I think everything will work out. Thanks, though, for asking.”
What kind of blood test? What did it mean? Why couldn’t I ask Leesa the questions in my head? She was dealing with life and death, and here I was worried about insignificancies like relationships. I realized then that her life experiences had taught her things I wouldn’t begin to comprehend for years.
“Well, I hope it’s all good. Let me see that for a second.” I reached for her yearbook and she gladly passed it to me. I scribbled in it.
Her blue eyes shot wide. “You want me to call you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’d be fun.”
“Okay. Thanks, Eden.” Her eyes dove for the rest of what I’d written to her. I crossed back to my seat, feeling happy, but the unknown stuck with me. What was Leesa’s fate?
Then Josh wandered over and sat next to me. He had his book on his lap but didn’t make any move to offer it.
He was watching James.
“Bet you never thought you’d like singing,” I said.
“Who says I like it?”
“I’ve seen the way you smile when you sing. You like it.”
I elbowed him.
The long, taut rope that had nearly strangled us since Matt and I had broken up seemed to loosen a bit. Josh grinned.
“He’s cool, Mr. C.”
“Yeah.”
“You still going to UCSB?” he asked.
“Nope. USC. What about you? Going abroad or to school?”
He laughed. “Talked my parents into summer in Italy.
Not quite six months like my sisters got, but, hey.”
“They want to keep you out of trouble,” I said.
“Too late for that.” We both laughed. I noticed he looked at Mr. Christian again, so I did too. A few minutes passed.
“Last day,” I said.
“Yeah.” There was a tint of longing in his voice he was trying to disguise, but that was impossible. He didn’t know how. He was a still a boy.
Josh slid his book halfway to my lap as an offering.
•••
I signed Josh’s book and by the time I was done reminiscing,
the bell rang. Startled, I looked at the clock. I couldn’t believe class was over.
James was still at the piano, still signing, still surrounded. I stood and debated what I should do.
When the class finally started to empty, I inched closer to him, watching him finish the last book.
He looked up, saw me. “Eden.”
I still trembled inside whenever he said my name.
“Hey.” I pressed my yearbook to my breasts in a tight grip.
He glanced at it. “You were busy,” I said.
“Yeah.” He set one hand on the piano, the other hung by his side.
Would the very act of having him sign be another reminder of things I was anxious for him to forget? He looked at me expectantly. In my heart, I wanted something tangible of his. I wanted to know what he would write to me. Yet, having him sign seemed like a step back, so I didn’t give in. I backed toward the door, my yearbook clutched against my chest.
His hand slid from the piano.
What could I say? Class was great? Thanks? Words seemed insanely stupid. Nothing was the only appropriate thing I could think of. Eyes locked on his, I backed through the door, holding him in my vision as long as I could.
Dad took graduation day off to be with me. He took me out for breakfast to the plaza and bought me a dozen red roses—one to celebrate every year of school. A tiny jewelry box from Tiffany’s held a dainty platinum necklace with a diamond inside of a heart. Always my heart, he wrote in the accompanying note. Knowing he’d picked the pendant out with me in his mind thrilled me. I wrapped my arms around him.
The ceremony was at six, in the outdoor park in the center of school. It was a warm evening, and the sun was low enough that the buildings blocked any glare, leaving behind streams of burnt gold that shone like golden carpets across the grass.
I left Dad and sat with my class, the boys in black caps and gowns, the girls in scarlet. Before finding my seat, I found Brielle. She looked ecstatic, and ran over to me with her arms out.
“Eden!” We hugged each other. “This is it, it’s really it.”
“I know, I know.”
Her hug was brief because she pulled back and scanned the crowd—for Matt. I saw him behind her, his tall form easy to spot as he headed our direction. He had yet to put on his hat. He was looking at me.
“So, you get anything?” Brielle asked. She flashed a diamond that hung around her wrist on a delicate gold bracelet. “You like?”
I gasped. “It’s gorgeous.” Out the corner of my eye, Matt was getting closer. My heart pinched. He was coming over for me, though Brielle would hope it was for her.
I showed her my necklace. “Eden! That’s stunning!”
“I know, huh.” Matt was right behind Brielle now, and I smiled at him. His brown eyes were tentative. “Hey.”
“Hey.” At the sound of his voice, Brielle whirled around, then froze. Matt glanced uncomfortably at her.
“Brielle.”
“Hey, Matt.”
“I wanted to congratulate you.” Matt nodded at me, so we both understood that he was talking to me. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t including Brielle in the congratulatory comment. She withered.
“Thanks.” I could have snapped at him for his rudeness, but what could I expect? He’d never felt anything more for her than friendship. He had a lot to learn about being fair and smart. About being a man.
I hugged him. “Congratulations to you, too,” I said. He squeezed me.
When I eased back, I turned to Brielle who looked like she’d just witnessed us hooking up rather than hugging.
Then Matt reached out and hugged Brielle. I heard her whimper. Then her breath caught, like she was on the verge of tears.
Matt’s eyes met mine. He looked both embarrassed and afraid of Brielle’s reaction, and started patting her back like a parent pats the back of a baby.
Brielle started to sob softly against him and his eyes widened. I patted his arm and left the two of them to talk.
I searched for my seat, waving at friends, some of which I had come up the ranks with since elementary school. So many faces. I hoped to see James, but my sweeps of the crowd never found him.
Because we were seated alphabetically, just like our lockers had been assigned alphabetically, Leesa sat on my left.
“Hey,” she said. She glowed. She had on mascara and blush. Her hair, still fine and wispy, peeked out from under the awkward cap in cottony fluff.
She looked beautiful.
“Hey, Leesa.”
“Can you believe this is it?”
“I know. I almost can’t. It’s perfect.”
“My whole family is here. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins. We’re having a huge party after down at Fisherman’s Wharf. It’s going to be so much fun.”
“Wow.” I nodded. I wished I had a big family like hers.
“Sounds great.” My grandparents lived too far to come.
But they’d both sent me five hundred dollars. No cousins nearby. Aunts and Uncles had sent congratulatory cards with money or gifts. Only Dad sat somewhere in the audience. But that was enough.
I soaked up the two hour program, every word like water sucked into a dry sponge. This really was it. The end.
It seemed strange that with the flick of my tassel, I was done with a chapter that had taken four years of my life to complete.
When the band played Pomp and Circumstance and we filed past our parents, I searched for Dad. Without any idea of where he had gotten a seat, I felt a twinge of disappointment.
Then I saw James.
He stood at an aisle seat, applauding with the other teachers that were in attendance. I locked my gaze on him and as I got closer, he saw me. My heart pounded. Every nerve fluttered. My eyes never left his face. He radiated, his face an ivory candle surrounded by dark suits and formal dresses.
I wanted everything to shift into slow motion so I could say something to him. Stop and hug him. Kiss him.
Thank him for opening my eyes and changing my heart. For helping me be a better person because of who he was. But the procession moved on, and I with it, passing him with the slightest tilt of my head.
He clapped loud when I went by, the melodic timbre of his voice piercing my heart. “Congratulations, Eden.”
Chapter Twenty-five
I got in my car and headed down the Drive. I’d thought about all of the ways I could prove to James that I’d grown up. I knew he’d forgiven me, I’d seen that in his eyes weeks ago at graduation. But that wasn’t enough.
On the way, I listened to a classical mix. The music kept a smile on my face and hope in my heart, even though I had no idea how he would receive me— if he would receive me. All I knew was that I’d waited long enough.
The white church sat lit up against the purple night sky of August. I could think of no better place to start over. The parking lot had a handful of cars and I searched for his grey Toyota. When I spotted it, I smiled, and pulled my car next to it. Already my mind flashed images of him walking me to my car, maybe even kissing me good night.
I got out and once again, checked to make sure that my short, flowered skirt was hanging the right way, that my soft blouse wasn’t twisted around. I dug into my purse and got out my compact. With a final blot to my chin, I was ready.
Then I glanced at my yearbook on the backseat. I’d brought it just in case. But I didn’t need an excuse to be there, and I really didn’t care if he signed it.
That book was over and done.
I walked toward the building with my heart pounding.
Visions of the last night we had spent here almost made me turn around, old feelings of guilt suddenly overpowering. But just as powerful was the memory floating in my head of the way he’d once kissed me. Of how he’d called my name at graduation.
I opened the doors to the chapel and heard voices of the youth struggling to sing— something religious. I smiled.
Then I heard his soothing voice. “Come on, guys. You can do bett
er than that. Let’s start over. Try it again from the beginning.”
I stood in the back. The faint smell of dust and oiled wood filled my senses. James’ back was toward me. He’d ditched his elbow patched jacket, it hung over the first bench like an old friend. Waiting. The denim shirt he wore was one of my favorites—the color made his eyes so blue. And he had the sleeves rolled up. I wondered if he’d loosened his tie yet. My entrance drew the attention of the group of kids, and their eyes shifted from James to me. I took a deep breath.