This is not what I want people overhearing. I interrupt, “Let’s just wait until we’re off school grounds, okay? Why don’t you walk behind me for a while? I think it’ll just make things easier.”
I feel like a jerk asking this. But I also feel I need space. Just a little space.
I take her to the Philip Diner, which is like an old-age home that serves food. Nobody from school except the most die-hard hipsters ever eats there. And I figure I can take my chances with the hipsters. They have enough problems of their own to care about mine.
The waitress treats us like we’re spies about to take away her Social Security. It’s not until she’s gone that we can talk.
“So how is everything?” A asks.
“I can’t say Justin seems that upset,” I reply. “And there’s no shortage of girls who want to comfort him.” Thank you, Lindsay. “It’s pathetic. Rebecca’s been awesome. I swear, there should be an occupation called Friendship PR—Rebecca would be ace at that. She’s getting my half of the story out there.”
“Which is?”
“Which is that Justin’s a jerk. And that the metalhead and I weren’t doing anything besides talking.”
“I’m sorry it had to all go down like that.”
“It could’ve been worse. And we have to stop apologizing to each other. Every sentence can’t start with ‘I’m sorry.’ ”
I should be sorry for snapping this out. I just don’t have the energy. Especially with someone so complicated sitting across from me.
“So you’re a girl who’s a boy?” I ask.
“Something like that.”
Oh, great. Now A’s snappish, too.
“And how far did you drive?”
“Three hours.”
“And what are you missing?”
“A couple of tests. A date with my girlfriend.”
I can’t help it. I ask, “Do you think that’s fair?”
“What do you mean?” A asks.
“Look,” I tell A, “I’m happy you’ve come all this way. Really, I am. But I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’m cranky as hell, and this morning when I got your email, I just thought: Is all of this really fair? Not to me or to you. But to these…people whose lives you’re kidnapping.”
“Rhiannon, I’m always careful—”
“I know you are. And I know it’s just a day. But what if something completely unexpected was supposed to happen today? What if her girlfriend is planning this huge surprise party for her? What if her lab partner is going to fail out of class if she’s not there to help? What if—I don’t know. What if there’s this huge accident, and she’s supposed to be nearby to pull a baby to safety?”
“I know. But what if I’m the one that something is supposed to happen to? What if I’m supposed to be here, and if I’m not, the world will go the wrong direction? In some infinitesimal but important way.”
“But shouldn’t her life come above yours?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re just the guest.”
It comes out sounding harsher than I mean it to be.
I go on, “I’m not saying you’re any less important. You know I’m not. Right now, you are the person I love the most in the entire world.”
“Really?” A sounds skeptical.
“What do you mean, really?”
“Yesterday you said you didn’t love me.”
“I was talking about the metalhead. Not you.”
The waitress brings our grilled cheeses and our French fries.
“I love you, too, you know,” A says once she leaves us alone.
“I know.”
“We’re going to get through this. Every relationship has a hard part at the beginning. This is our hard part. It’s not like a puzzle piece where there’s an instant fit. With relationships, you have to shape the pieces on each end before they go perfectly together.”
Relationship. I want to know if that’s what this really is. But A is not the right person to ask.
Instead, I point out that A’s piece changes shape every day.
“Only physically,” he argues.
“I know.” I eat one of the fries. I’m tired of talking, but don’t know how to get out of it without making A feel bad. “Really, I do. I guess I need to work on my piece more. There’s too much going on. And you being here—that adds to the too much.”
“I’ll go,” he says. “After lunch.”
“It’s not that I want you to,” I try to assure him. “I just think I need you to.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” I make myself smile. I need to change the tone. “Now tell me about this date you’re going on tonight. If I don’t get to be with you, I want to know who does.”
Then I sit back and listen as he tells me about this girl named Dawn who this boy-born-a-girl, Vic, loves like oxygen and needs like nothing else in the world. It’s a love story, pure and simple, and I find myself glad that someone in the universe gets to have one.
Even though I’m only meeting Vic this once and I’ve never set eyes on Dawn, I think about them after A leaves. I imagine the shit they must have to steer through to be together. It’s the first thing today that feels perfectly timed. I have it bad, sure. But people can put up with a lot to get to the place they need to be.