room.
Ben picks up my phone. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear what the boy said?”
I pull Ben’s arm back around me. “I can’t. Not yet.”
“Let me look at what he’s written?”
“No. You’ll tell me, and I don’t want to know.”
“The boy is hurting.”
“He’ll heal.”
“But will we?” Ben asks.
“No,” I say. “We will grow old and stay lonely and never marry. We’ll have no cats and no dogs and we will buy eggs in half cartons and half a loaf of bread.”
“I’m sad for us.” Ben lays back against my pillow with me. “But I’m glad we are sad together.”
“Always.”
The nurse comes in. Not Gary, unfortunately. This one is very businesslike and assesses the situation. She looks at Ben and shakes her head. “I believe it’s time for you to go. Jenna needs her rest.”
“I need my bestie,” I complain, but it’s hard to do it effectively because I’m exhausted. In fact, I’m almost asleep when Ben lifts off the bed, kisses me on the forehead, and puts my phone in my hand. “Think about it, sweets.”
And then I’m alone. Alone to think about everything that’s happened.
Eventually, my mind goes to Jennifer and what she would be like if she was the one in this position with Julian. I can see her walking on the street, her back held straight as a board. She’s dressed in all black, wearing high-heeled boots. I stare at her shoes, like her walking in them is a miracle in and of itself. Like maybe she’s a circus performer and these are her stilts. It’s that amazing, because I could never do it.
She’s magical, with her perfect posture, and she steals the breath right out of me. She’s a force of nature. A gravitational field. She is an element. Fierce and strong and every single thing I wish I can be.
She feels eternal. And ethereal. Here and gone in the same breath. Like if other people looked at her, they’d see the bushes behind her. The houses she passed. But not her. To them she’d be the wind that blew. The rustle of the leaves. And a suggestion of something else. Something magical and important, but if they blinked she’d be completely gone.
Most of all, I’m struck by her confidence. How she carries herself so upright when she knows other people are watching. How she’s so sure of her place in the world. Of the magic she carries with each step of her high heels.
And as I fall asleep, I think, I envy her.
Friday, 9:45 P.M.
Hey. Are you ok?
I’m sorry about all of that.
Chip says I’m too much of a hothead. He’s right.
Hope you are sleeping and we can talk tomorrow.
Gnite. Sweet dreams.
Saturday, 11:10 A.M.
Are you there?
I know you’re mad at me but I’m really scared. That guy is talking about pressing charges.
My parents are pissed.
Chip is pissed.
12:33 P.M.
I guess because you’re not answering me, you are pretty pissed too.
It’s not like me to fight like that.
I just couldn’t let him talk about you like that.
I know I should’ve held my temper. And I get that I might have scared you.
But you have to know that’s not me.
1:20 P.M.
You know me. I know you believe in saints and magic, but I’m just a guy.
2:00 P.M.
Please answer me.
3:04 P.M.
OK. I’ll leave you alone.
I’m here for you when you’re ready. If you ever are ready.
I was so happy at the dance and I know I’ve ruined everything.
5:15 P.M.
OMG I heard you are in the hospital.
Twenty-Seven
I spend the next morning staring at the screen of my television, not even paying attention to the show that’s droning on. Mom comes in, takes a gander at the show, and says, “Didn’t know you were so into deep-sea fishing. Hmmm. Good to know.”
I turn the TV off and brace myself for more lecturing about how stupid I was to be out in the elements or how I never listen to her or do what I’m supposed to. But when I look at her face, really look at it, I see that she looks more sad than angry.
“How are you feeling? Better?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Good. Your doctor says you’ll be released tomorrow. We have to keep up with the breathing treatments. You can’t go back to school yet, but you are out of the woods.” She smiles, but the sadness stays in her eyes and the edges of her mouth turn down. She opens her purse, the new one, the black Kate Spade briefcase-y one. The one Rena makes fun of, but