You Know Me Well(36)

My crying is so stupid. How does it actually help?

I should have told Katie more. Or maybe I should have thought about how this was a big night for her before I pulled her into the black hole my life has become. Only she didn’t treat her big night like it was a big night. I don’t know. My inside eye can’t see beyond me and Ryan.

Which is also so stupid.

Are you okay?

Why is my phone back in my hand?

Why am I typing NO in capital letters?

Why am I hitting send?

This voice in my head says, Get your shit together, boy. But I’m confused. I don’t recognize the voice. It’s not Ryan. It’s not me. It’s like this military version of me. This serious guy with a deep voice. Why is he in my head? Does my mind honestly think I’ll stop falling apart if it sounds like a drill sergeant?

I check my phone. Ryan hasn’t replied.

It’s been seven seconds.

I think about texting Katie and apologizing for taking up her time. Or thanking her for coming over. Or begging her to come back.

My mother’s voice is somewhere in the air. It’s calling me to dinner.

This is all my fault. For going into the city. For speaking up. For not leaving it alone. For forcing him.

I knew I would lose him if I said something.

I said something.

I lost him.

How can I blame him for that?

That knocking noise isn’t in my head. It’s my father at the door.

“You coming, kiddo?”

Ryan loved that my dad called me this. He would say, “If my dad called me kiddo, maybe I could tell him the truth.”

He didn’t mean about us. He meant about him. Which was tied to us.

I realize I haven’t answered. My dad is waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” I tell him.

“You don’t know if you’re coming to dinner? Since your mother made it, I think a better answer would be ‘yes.’”

That would have also been the better answer to Are you okay?

I check my phone.

“Mark.” My father is getting impatient.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I have no idea if I’m talking out loud or just saying it in my head.

What are you doing, Mark?

Okay, that one was definitely in my head.

You’re acting like he’s dumped you.

He hasn’t dumped you.

In order to break up, you have to be together first.

“But we were together,” I say. Out loud.

Luckily, my dad has already left the room.

I know I have to eat, and I know that my parents want me at dinner, and all of these obligations propel me to the kitchen, where my parents are already eating salad.

Ryan always thought it was funny that my parents started every meal with a salad. His parents weren’t into vegetables.

I have no idea why I am thinking of them in past tense.

He is not dead.

He hasn’t gone anywhere.

He even texted me to ask if I was okay.

(I check again. The phone will not leave my hand.)

“I hope Katie knows she could have stayed for dinner,” my mother is saying. “I didn’t get to talk to her much—but I like her.”

“She had an opening to go to,” I mumble defensively. I sound like she’s accused me of chasing Katie away.

“Whose opening?” my father asks.

“Her own. At AntlerThorn.”

My mother puts down her fork, even though there’s still some lettuce speared on its tines. “What?”

“Her artwork is on display at this gallery. Tonight’s the opening.”

“Why aren’t you there with her?”

Because I’m a shitty friend, Mom. And, incidentally, not worth dating.

“I don’t know,” I say.

She’s standing up. Why is my mother standing up?

“Let’s go,” she tells me.

I don’t understand what’s happening.

My mother is looking up the address on her phone.

“I know where it is,” I say.

And like that, it’s settled.

*

As if he’s some big gay bloodhound, Brad sniffs me out before I get through the door.

“Oh, thank God!” he cries, rushing over. “Audra was sharpening the pike for my head! And that’s not the kind of head I like to give, ha-ha! Let me tell you, there’s a fine line between fashionably late and fashionably deceased. And you do not cross that line with Audra. No, sir. But now that you’re here, let me show you—”

Brad cuts himself off, because he’s looked over my shoulder and found my mother, not Katie.

“Where is she?” he asks. “Please tell me she’s parking the car.”

“Who is this?” my mother asks. “Is he a friend of yours?”

The way she says friend, it’s clear she means special friend. Like, boyfriend.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she says, offering her hand to Brad. He checks out what she’s wearing and approves.

“She’s not parking the car,” I murmur. Then I push into the gallery before Brad can throw more of a fit.

The space is barely recognizable from yesterday, because now it’s packed with people. There are some faces from school, but mostly it’s adults. Serious adults. Wearing serious jewelry. Having very serious conversations about Art. Or, at least, gossiping and making it sound like very serious conversations about Art. I am looking for Ryan and not finding him. Then I am looking for Katie and not finding her.