Seventeen
I skipped school on Monday morning. With only four days before we caught our flight to the rest of Dad’s life, Bailey and I both had a lot of packing to do. Dad didn’t bother sticking around the house. He was down at his office dealing with some issues of his own… like trying to figure out how to abandon a town full of people who loved and trusted him to enough to elect him into office. He had his work cut out for him, and I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for any kind of backlash he took for his decision to walk away.
I kept my ear buds pressed firmly in my ears as I packed. I didn’t care what I had to listen to, what came up on the playlist, I just kept listening. It was better than being alone with my thoughts, and at least I knew that my little musical escape would be therapeutic. I had never downloaded a single, romantic track, so I knew that I wouldn’t have to worry about thoughts of Gabe creeping up unexpectedly.
I’d only managed to pack half of my closet when I heard a crash come from Bailey’s room. I ripped my ear buds out and ran down the hall. I found her standing in front of her shattered vanity mirror.
“Bailey?”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” she screamed, punching the mirror for what I guessed was a second time. A shard of the glass nicked her knuckle, but her emotions had gotten the best of her, and she hadn’t yet registered the pain. A thin stream of blood dripped from her hand and pooled at her feet on the carpet. “Why is he doing this to us?”
I stood and watched my sister as she sank down on her bed, cupping her face into her hands. She sobbed like that for a few minutes, and then she looked back up to me with mascara trails dripping down the sides of her face.
“Mandy, what are we supposed to do?” she asked, barely breathing through her tears. “We still have so much that’s left here. Am I supposed to just get on that plane and never see Jones again?”
“No,” I said, finally stepping into her room. “Bailey, you can come back and visit him any time you want.”
“He’s going to break up with me,” she said. “Long distance relationships never work, Mandy.”
“That’s crazy.” I sat down on the bed next to her. “Jones is nuts about you. He’d never break it off.” I draped my arm around her shoulder, and she buried her head against my chest and cried harder.
“And what about school?” she continued. “What about everything we have? Are we supposed to just give all of that up and walk away? I was going to be Homecoming Queen, dammit. And prom queen! And I have friends, here, Mandy. Lots of friends. How are they going to make it without me? We’re a team, a group. Our posse will break apart, and it will be all my fault!”
“No,” I said, caressing her hair. “Bailey, no. They’ll stay friends.”
“Great,” she said, sitting up. She rolled her eyes and huffed. “So my leaving won’t bother them a bit? That’s great! I’ll leave, and they’ll just stick together, pretending like my being in California doesn’t faze them for a moment.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I interjected. “I just meant that they’ll be okay. I’m sure they’re going to miss you a lot, but they’ll stick together—they’ll miss you together.”
She shook her head, and then I watched as she looked to the window. Slowly but surely, each of her tears dried. I imagined, looking at my sister just then, that that was exactly how I’d looked on Thursday night when I stood out on the street, yelling at Gabe—covered in make-up. Looking like death.
“You have it made,” she said, sniffling. “You were right all along. Being alone, not making friends… that was the way to do it. I should’ve never come here and tried to rule the world. I should’ve known better than to get close to any of these people. Now I have to say goodbye. Now I have to walk up to each of them, tell them how much I’m going to miss them, and say those same, stupid words we had to say when we left LA.”
“But Bailey, you love your friends. You needed them. They’re the reason you got by here in Sugar Creek, so it wouldn’t have been easier for you to just shut everyone out.”
“Why not?” she asked. “You did it, and look at you. You’re handling this move about a million times better than I am. You didn’t get close to anyone. You kept to yourself. You didn’t have friends, a boyfriend, and you have no one you have to say goodbye to. Sometimes I think it would just be easier to be like you and not have a heart.”
“Whoa,” I said, leaning back to take a better look at her. “Is that what you think of me, Bailey? That I don’t have a heart?”
“How could you?” she asked. “How could you, Amanda? You seem so happy and so content having no one in your life. That’s why you pushed me away. That’s why you refused to make friends. That’s why you couldn’t see what was right in front of you with Gabe.”
“Okay one,” I said, holding up a finger. “I never pushed you away, Bailey. You were the one thing I had going for myself when we moved here, and when you started dating, when you saw that boys were noticing you, you dropped me in a heartbeat. You ditched me for a new group of pretty and popular friends. And no, I didn’t join you when you made that transition because that’s not who I am. You changed, not me. And yes, I refused to make new friends, but that’s because I knew this day would come. I didn’t trust Dad not to do this. That man has never made a promise he didn’t intend to break.”
“And what about Gabe?”
“What about him?” I asked.
“Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t see—”
“I saw it, Bailey! Okay? I saw it. I know Gabe liked me, and yes, I liked Gabe. But it doesn’t matter. It’s never mattered. He’s got his life here, and we’re leaving.”
“But what if we weren’t leaving?” she asked. “What then?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We are leaving, and eventually, so is he! I can’t waste my time wondering and praying and hoping that things could be different. This is how it is.”
“But humor me,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “You like him, and he likes you. What if we weren’t leaving?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Gabe shut down, and he pushed me away there at the end. I don’t know if it was something I did or said, but he pulled back, and… I know he might’ve liked me at one point, but I think I screwed it up.”
“What if I tell you that you didn’t?” she asked, and then she sat a little straighter. She turned on her bed, tucked her feet up beneath her legs, and looked at me straight on. “When I went to the store with Gabe on Thursday, he couldn’t quit talking about you. He was asking about you, asking how you were. When I told him that he could just stop by and find out for himself, he said he couldn’t. He said it wasn’t that simple, that you guys had already gotten too close, and he didn’t want to ruin things for you. He didn’t want to hurt you.”
“He said that?” I asked, wondering why it’d been so easy for him to say that to her and not me. Had Gabe struggled with admitting his feelings as much as I’d struggled to admit mine?
“Yes, he said that,” she said. “And more than once.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” I said, looking down at my hands. “It’s too late to fix anything now. You saw how I treated him.”
“Because you were hurt,” she said. “And he understood that, Mandy. He’s only giving you space because you asked him to. But you can’t leave here on Friday and let whatever it is that you guys have just blow up in smoke. I’m not asking you to make a commitment to be in a long distance relationship. We all know how those end. I’m just asking you to be honest with yourself for once. Be honest with him. And if nothing else, he deserves a proper goodbye. You do, too.”
I looked down at my hands, and then Bailey slugged me in the shoulder.
“Come on!” I yelled, rubbing the spot that had already started to turn red. “Stop doing that!”
“If you’d just look at me when I’m talking to you, then I wouldn’t have to do it at all,” she said, pointing a finger in my face. “You’
re not happy being alone, no matter how much you want to pretend you are. You need him. You need to admit that to him and yourself. Screw the rules, Mandy. Tell him how you feel.”
I knew she was right. I needed to talk to him. But if I did, what in the world would I say? I never wanted to think of myself as the kind of girl who needed anyone, especially a man. But if I didn’t need Gabe, then why had it been so hard to forget him? Why had it been so difficult to push him away?
“What are you going to do?” she asked. “Are you going to talk to him?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know his schedule. I won’t know where to find him.”
“He’s at the park today,” she said. “Dad said he was headed out for his last big hurrah, and he mentioned the ribbon cutting was this afternoon for the park’s reopening. Gabe’s crew worked on the project. I’d almost guarantee he’s there.”
“At the park?”
“The ceremony starts at noon. You can still make it if you go now.”
I looked at the clock. “It’s 11:50. I’ll never make it.”
“You won’t know if you don’t try,” she said, shrugging. “Mandy, seriously. You have to tell him goodbye.”
I drove to the Sugar Creek Park gates as fast as I could, and I rolled into the only vacant parking spot at the edge of the packed lot. From the back of the park, I could hear a deep voice over the microphone, and it sounded like Dad’s from a distance. That meant they had already cut the ribbon, or they were just gearing up for the big cut. Either way, it meant that Gabe was nearby, and I had to catch up with him.
I ran down the paved path toward the park’s amphitheater, feeling a stitch in my side as I jogged closer to the stage.
When I reached the back of the large crowd, I tried to fight my way through them, pushing and shoving wherever it was necessary to get through. There were several couples who mumbled a few, choice words at my rude hustle through the group, and even one senior citizen who threatened to beat me down with his cane. But I finally made it to the front of the line, and I just stopped and held my breath as I watched the group on stage.
Gabe stood there, staring out at the crowd, but there was a glazed-over look in his eyes that caught me off guard. Although he was physically present, I wasn’t entirely sure he was there at all. His mind was on something else, and he seemed to have mentally checked out. Lashell stood next to him, her arm wrapped around his waist as she held on to him. Her eyes were fixed on Gabe for the better part of a minute, and when she finally broke that stare and looked back to Dad, I could tell she was only pretending to listen to all the things he said up at the podium. She kept darting looks at Gabe, glances of concern—the kind of love and concern that only a parent can offer a wounded child. She was consoling him. But why? Because of me?
My father droned on and on for what felt like hours, talking about the Raddick Initiative and all the wonderful work they’d done to help break down, rebuild, and restore the beautiful town park. It was only when my Dad shut up long enough to introduce Gabe that I perked up. Gabe’s head jerked at the sound of his name.
He stepped up to the podium as the crowd clapped for him, and he nodded in thanks and appreciation.
The microphone squealed as he cleared his throat and leaned closer.
“I know I should be used to doing this by now,” he said, forcing a smile. “But I’ve never been great at these things, so I’ll try to hurry this up and turn it back over to Mayor Parker.” The crowd half-laughed at his nervousness, and he finally stood a little taller. “Everyone at the Raddick Initiative, including myself and my right hand woman,” he winked at Lashell, “we’ve been honored and humbled to be a part of Sugar Creek’s park reconstruction. The summer months were long and brutal, but we wouldn’t have traded it for any, other opportunity. My good friend Lashell was born and raised here in Sugar Creek, so this project has held a very special place in her heart. Not a day has gone by that she hasn’t stressed to me how much it means for her to know that she’s going to be able to watch thousands of kids walk through those gates and make memories of their own— in a newer, safer, and cleaner environment. Nothing in this world means more to me than—”
He stopped scanning the crowd, and his eyes landed on me.
“Mandy?” he said, and the crowd started humming.
“Who’s Mandy?” I heard one man ask, and then they all seemed to notice that he was staring directly at me. Most everyone turned to watch me, and I did my best not faint on the spot. I hated that I’d suddenly become the focus of attention.
“Hi, Gabe,” I said, and then everyone around us fell silent.
He finally peeled his eyes away long enough to look at the others on stage, and he noticed at the same time that I did that my father’s face had turned a dark shade of crimson. I was certain that his flushed cheeks had less to do with the fact that his little girl had just tracked down a gorgeous man, and more to do with the fact that his little girl was quickly ruining his last, big performance as mayor.
“Gabe,” I spoke up, and everyone turned to watch me, including the man at the podium. “I know this is terrible timing, and if I had all the time in the world, I’d do this anywhere else. But I don’t have that time, and I have to tell you this now…before it’s too late. I don’t hate you, Gabe, and I wasn’t fine before I met you. I had convinced myself that I could get through life without letting anyone in, and that I didn’t need all the complications that came with love. But I was wrong, okay? I was very, very wrong. I wasn’t trying to lie to you, and I’m sorry that I did. Truth is, I’ve been lying to myself for so long that all the lines have just become so blurred. I want to let you in. I want to talk to you. I want tell you how I feel, and I want all of those things from you.”
For a moment, I thought I saw him smirk, so I kept up the momentum, failing to get any thought in order before I opened my mouth again.
“There hasn’t been a moment since I met you that you haven’t been on my mind. Since the moment I ran you down on the highway,” I said, half-laughing through tears, “you’ve been burned into my brain. Gabe, I like you. And I know I’m leaving for California in four days, and I know there’s no way anything can ever come of this, but if I have to leave on Friday and say goodbye, I don’t care how much it’s going to hurt. Telling you how I feel right now, and having a chance to say goodbye, it’ll be worth all of the pain. I’ll take pain over regret any day. And I know that if I walk away from you and never say the things I need to say, I’ll have nothing but regret. That’s not how I want this to end.”
Standing still at the podium, Gabe watched me with wide eyes. He stood expressionless and completely still, and the buzz all around us died down to complete silence. For a moment the whole crowd turned to him, watching and waiting for a response, but the longer we waited, it became apparent that Gabe wasn’t going to give us what we were waiting for. He wasn’t going to respond. He finally managed a vague expression, something that slightly resembled a wince, and then he looked down at the podium and read over his notes.
“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat into the microphone.
Again, he read the small index cards clutched in his hand. He darted a look at the crowd and then let go of a long, nervous breath.
“Nothing in this world means more to me,” he said, and his words were drawn and carefully chosen. “Nothing means more to me than seeing a smile… on the face of the woman standing… next to me,” he said, turning to Lashell. He cleared his throat again as he looked away from the crowd, and I noticed in that moment that he was trying to avoid looking at me. My gaze fell on Lashell as she stood at the back end of the stage, looking as hurt and confused as I felt by Gabe’s strange reaction to my speech. “So it has been the honor of a lifetime to be part of this project. Thank you to the team for all of the hard work, a special thanks to Sugar Creek for allowing us to be part of this, and… well, thank you,” Gabe finally said, ending his speech and nodding to the c
rowd.
He turned to Dad and nodded, and Dad bit his lip as he walked past Gabe, carrying a pair of giant scissors.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Gabe said, leaning into the microphone, “the Sugar Creek Park has officially reopened.” He backed away, helped as my father cut the ribbon, and then the two shook hands and posed—smiles and all—for the half-dozen photographers crowding the stage.
It wasn’t until the crowd stopped clapping and the photographers cleared out that Gabe looked back down to me, still standing hurt and plastered right where I stood as I spilled my heart to him.
“Gabe?” I asked, hoping he’d finally say something now that the crowd had thinned out.
His gaze fell on mine, and he deliberately held my stare. I knew there was something he wanted to say, something he needed me to hear, but whatever it was, he was choosing—yet again—to keep it to himself.
“You need to go,” he said, nodding in the direction of the parking lot. “Now. You shouldn’t have come here today, Mandy.”
“Gabe?” I asked again, trying to read past the wall he’d put up. I knew he was hurt, I understood that. I’d said some really awful things to him, things he didn’t deserve. But I’d apologized, and I’d tried to make it right. Couldn’t he see how much of my heart I was giving to him? “Please, I’m trying—”
“Amanda,” he said, and my heart sank to my stomach. I didn’t know if it was the fact that he never called me anything but Mandy, or if it was the tone in which he’d said it, but it hurt. Something about that one, little word cut me so deep that I could barely find my breath. “I have nothing to say to you right now. Go home.”
With that, Gabe turned away from me, and slowly but surely, my heart broke again.