I'd Give Anything(42)

Kirsten’s eyes widened. “Oh Lord. You’re sunk. It’s what they never tell you when you’re younger, how when you grow up, nothing on God’s green earth will be sexier than nice.”

“True. But let’s stop this nonsense and talk about your upcoming nuptials.”

Kirsten got a funny look on her face. “Yes. Right. Okay. Here’s the thing.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I want you to throw me an engagement party. Soon. Really soon. Like in a couple of weeks, so it doesn’t seem like we just got engaged and—boom—we’re getting married.”

“Oh! Is that all? Well, of course I will! We can do it at my house, unless you think we’ll need a bigger space?”

“Your house is perfect.”

“Perfect.”

Kirsten grimaced. She had an adorable nose-wrinkled grimace and knew it. I had seen that grimace in action more times than I could count.

“What?”

“I want everyone there. Everyone I love best.”

This seemingly reasonable request knocked the wind out of me. I knew what she meant: everyone she loved best, who, not coincidentally, happened to represent the bulk of the people (minus Harris) I’d failed most miserably in this world.

“Kirsten. I haven’t seen them in seventeen years, and that was at a party while we were in college, and as soon as I got there, they left. They hate me. Not that I blame them,” I said.

“I don’t think they do,” said Kirsten. “I mean, I don’t know because we have this unspoken agreement never to talk about you, which I break fairly often, but still, and actually, CJ might still hate you just because he is so loyal to Gray, but, come on, it was all so long ago.”

“Gray’s dad died, and I abandoned him. That’s the only word for it. I failed him. At the time, I could barely figure out how to get up in the morning and get dressed, but that’s no excuse for letting Gray down like that.”

“We never talk about this, you and I,” said Kirsten, quietly. “Not really. All those things that happened senior year; it’s the only thing we never talk about.”

“I know. I try not to even think about it, but I’ve thought about it a hundred times by accident over the years. What’s the point, though? I’d give anything to go back and be a better friend to Gray—or even a not hideously awful friend—and I can’t do that. I can’t fix anything.”

Kirsten absorbed this, and then, slowly, said, “I think— Okay. I think we were so used to you being the strongest and bravest of all of us that we didn’t see the toll everything took on you. When Gray came out, you were his champion. You were amazing, like Joan of Arc going into battle. But that must’ve been so hard for you.”

“I was heartbroken. I thought I would marry him,” I said.

“Yes. And then his dad died. And then whatever happened between Trevor and your mom happened, and he transferred to Emory midyear and basically disappeared from your life. When I think about it now, when I envision the person you were that whole second half of senior year, I think you must have been depressed. Like, very.”

I nodded. “I was.”

“So, yeah, maybe you should’ve been a better friend to Gray. But we three should’ve been better friends to you. We should’ve seen that you needed taking care of, too.”

My friend Kirsten and I sat inside a haze of regret and remembering, before Kirsten said, “At least, after the fire, things got better for Gray at school.”

“Well, yeah,” I said, wryly. “It only took running into a burning building to save his best friend and losing his father in the same night for those assholes to stop holding his sexuality against him.”

“He’s in a good place now,” said Kirsten.

“I’m glad he found Evan. I’m glad they got married.” I smiled. “I’m dead jealous of course, but I’m glad.”

“They’re having a baby.”

Tears filled my eyes, hot and sudden. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“They used a surrogate. Gray’s sperm, and Evan’s sister donated the egg, so it’ll have both their genes.”

“Those are some good genes,” I said, remembering Gray.

“Hell, yes, they are,” said Kirsten.

“Will you prepare them, Gray and CJ? Tell them I’ll be getting in touch about the engagement party?”

“Yes! And, um, one more thing? Or one more person, actually?”

I sighed. “Trevor. You two always did love each other.”

“Please?”

“If I die of awkwardness, you’ll look after Avery?”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” sang Kirsten, and then she slid over and wrapped me up in the Kirstenest of Kirsten hugs.





Chapter Eleven




December 1, 1997

People say “bear witness” and now I know why. It’s that seeing the terrible, the unstoppable terrible, the unerasable, it-can’t-be-happening-it-is-happening terrible not so much unfold as inflict itself upon the world in front of you is heavy, a lead-heavy burden you bear and bear until you are bent double under its weight and can barely breathe.

I want to unsee it. I want to undo it, to reel in that hour—ugly minute after ugly minute—and hurl it into a bottomless pit.