If This Gets Out(102)

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

I sit up as Mom walks inside, not even waiting for an answer. “I’m going to take a swing and guess something happened between you and Ruben?”

I shrug.

She comes in, and sits down on the end of my bed. “What do you need? Chocolate? Ice cream? Wine?”

“Won’t help. Nothing will.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse, probably.”

“What happened?”

“He’s sick of me.” Just saying it makes the tears prickle again.

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, throwing her arms around me and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Nobody could be sick of you.”

“He is.”

“Why?”

“He basically said I’m a pushover and he doesn’t know who I am.”

She pauses. I thought she was going to deny whatever it was that he said about me, but him saying that made her pause. Which makes me think there’s at least some truth in what he said.

Damn. Even my mom thinks I don’t stand up for myself enough.

“Do you agree with him?” I ask.

“No, of course I don’t. I’m going to be on your side, no matter what. The thing is, though, I don’t think Ruben is a cruel person.”

“I don’t, either.”

“And you know one of the things I love about you the most is how considerate you are.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah.”

“Ever since you were a kid you’ve put others before yourself. I still remember you’d always let the other kids beat you in athletics, even though you could’ve won, because they would’ve gotten upset and you didn’t care.”

“I thought that was a good thing. You said most people only care about winning.”

“I know, and it is. But I can see what Ruben is saying. You can’t spend your whole life trying to keep everyone happy. You need to stand up for what you want.”

I wipe my eyes on the back of my hand. “I know. But it’s hard. I feel like I barely even know what I want anymore. I know I want to be with him, but he doesn’t want to be with me, so, yeah.”

“Can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

“Did he explicitly say he’s breaking up with you? Because if he did, you need to respect that, and give him space.”

I shake my head. “He said: ‘If you can’t give me anything more than “I want everyone to get along,” then I don’t think I can do this anymore.’”

“Well, if I can teach you anything, it’s that you should actually listen to people. Ruben is telling you exactly what he wants. It’s not that he’s done with you.”

It sinks in.

“He wants to know what you want,” she says. “So tell me: if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

“I want to be with him,” I say. “And I want to work on this.”

I think I get it.

No, I know I do.

“I have an idea,” I say. “I think it’d work better face-to-face, though.”

I know it’s a long drive to the airport, so it’s a big ask.

She smiles. “I’ll grab my keys.”



* * *



I have a whole thing planned.

First, Mom drove me to Penny’s apartment. I texted the situation to her, and she was on board, so now I’ve got a brand-new haircut I can’t stop looking at. It’s short and textured, with the front pressing down over my forehead. Penny is calling it a modern spin on emo, and she’s pretty confident it’s going to start a trend. If Chorus let the public see it, that is. Maybe they’ll ask me to keep it hidden until it grows out.

After the haircut, Mom and I drove to the airport and we both got on the next flight to LA. Once we landed I picked up a bouquet of flowers from a gas station near the airport, and they’re now sitting in the back seat of the car Mom rented. I ignored the voice telling me he might not like them, and that he might think it’s weird. Even if he does, I want to do this.

So I’m doing it.

Ruben knows I’m coming over to talk things through, but he doesn’t know I’m coming over for this. I might be making a mistake, but at least it’s my mistake. It’s a risk, sure, and I could fall flat on my ass in front of the guy I pretty much love, and I could’ve made Mom come all this way with me for no reason.

We reach Ruben’s house, and Mom parks. My instincts tell me to double check about this with her, to make sure this is okay, that it’s a good plan. But I’m sure about this. For better or worse, this is my idea, and I’m going to see it through.

“Wish me luck,” I say, as I grab the bouquet of flowers from the back seat.

It’s dark out, lit only by streetlights.

“You don’t need it. Just tell him you listened, it’s all he wants to hear.”

I step outside, and walk up to the front door. I ring the doorbell. My palms have gone really sweaty, slick against the plastic wrapping of the flowers. The door swings open, and I see it’s Veronica. She glances down at me, and for maybe the first time ever, I see her break into a tiny smile.

“Oh, Zach, hi,” she says. “Ruben didn’t tell me you were coming by, come in.”