sum.
The stone in my chest is back. The rest of the summer stretches out in front of me as an endless dark corridor: being a spectator as Priya takes over our film, watching helplessly as Will goes from being something more than a friend to something much, much less.
I can’t look at him, so I stare at the lame-ass flyer that I’ve been making for our floundering restaurant. It’s a pointless effort—what, I think a bunch of hungry lacrosse bros will save our restaurant?—but I don’t even have enough energy to scroll my mouse over to delete the file.
My mom walks back to the kitchen to shout out an order, the familiar thump-squeak of the swinging door resonating in the lengthening silence between us. I want to tell Will that I’m sorry, that I know that I’m screwed up and shouldn’t have taken it out on him. I’m trying to pull together the courage to apologize, really, I am, but there’s no reserve of grace for me to draw upon, when Will—my heart jump-starts, despite everything—speaks first.
WILL
Jocelyn is so upset she can’t look at me, and I don’t blame her. I remember the hot shame I felt during that first therapy session, remember not being sure whether to turn all that pain inward or outward.
I breathe in through my mouth, count to five. Breathe out through my nose, count to five. And then I speak before I can think too much.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I don’t mean to be pushy.” My words break the surface of the quiet but don’t quite dispel the tension that still fills the room. At least Jocelyn looks at me again. She’s got this hollowed-out expression that I can’t read.
“It’s okay. I know you were trying to…” She waves her hand to fill in the blanks. “I didn’t mean to snap.” She swipes her palm over her face and sighs. “You don’t have to stay, I mean, I understand if you want to leave.”
“What? No. I don’t want to leave,” I say, shaking my head. Then, my voice cracking a little, “Unless you want me to leave?”
“I don’t know. Yes? Maybe? No?” Jos lets out a groan. “Everything’s a mess in my head, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.… You don’t have to apologize. We’re good.”
She looks up at me, frankly disbelieving. “Why?”
That’s all she says, just the one syllable. She could be asking me why I’m staying, or why I’m forgiving her so quickly for her outburst—that makes the most sense. But I’m crap at mind reading, if you couldn’t tell already.
“Why what?” I ask.
“Why do you care about me?”
It’s the essential question, and my anxiety level goes up the way it has for every test I’ve ever taken, from my third-grade spelling tests to the SATs. “Do you trust me?” I ask.
“Yeah?” she says. It sounds like a question.
“I need you to know, you mean something to me.” At my words, Jocelyn’s lips curve halfway to a smile, before she gives a little shake of her head and her mouth crumbles back into a frown.
That’s just it, though, right? I can say whatever I want, but what will make Jocelyn’s post-truth brain believe me?
My father has always liked to express his love for my mother with things, because he knows that she doesn’t always have the time to shop for herself. At least once a month he’ll come home with expensive chocolates (the kind that are hand decorated and displayed in boxes with gold elastic string), or hand-selected flowers (dahlias are her favorite, big and vibrant and long lasting).
In the end those kinds of things are easy to pass off as fake news, insincere thoughts that are bought and paid for. I need to give Jos tangible proof that I care, something so undeniable that it’ll break through the noise of her own doubt.
And then my watch buzzes, and I know what I can do.
JOCELYN
When I ask Will why he puts up with me, it doesn’t shock me that he struggles to answer the question, that at first he just says something generic about how much I mean to him.
But then he gives a little start, and his lips part in surprise. He looks at me, laser focused, his eyes wide. “I know how I can show you.”
He reaches for his wrist—I’ve noticed that he does that a lot. He unbuttons his sleeve and pushes it up. He’s got an Apple Watch, of course, and he’s swiping through screens until he finds the one he