“No,” I say quickly. “I mean, there were a ton of one-page panels that were just…there. Completely unnecessary. They didn’t contribute anything to the story.” I can’t believe that I’m saying this – all of this – aloud. A good girlfriend would keep her mouth shut. “And then sections of your junior year were really crowded. You needed more variation between the panels. More space.”
“More space.”
“Um, yeah. Spaces. Breaks. For the reader to contemplate things. To figure out what’s important, on their own.”
“Spaces,” he says. “To figure out what’s important.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m drowning in a river of my own making. “I didn’t say anything earlier, because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. It’s great, I promise.”
“You’ve used that word to describe it in the past. And yet, I still don’t believe you.”
“I’m sorry.” I say it again, my voice desperate.
“Are you sure you aren’t just pissed off? Maybe because it isn’t about you?”
“No!” The shame is overwhelming. “I wasn’t even in your life until this year. I know that. I know I’m not an important part of your story.”
For the first time in several minutes, Josh is thrown. “What do you mean, you’re not important to my story?”
“I haven’t been around that long. And you had this whole life before me, and you’ll have this whole life after me—”
“After you?” His voice gets an octave higher. “What do you mean after?”
“Vermont. Your school. Your future.”
Josh is baffled. “But…you’re coming with me.”
“Am I?”
“When Dartmouth accepts you—”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I say.
He punches his fist against the seat. “Stop saying that. Why are you always putting yourself down? You’re gonna get in. There’s no way that you’re not getting in.”
“Tell that to Columbia.”
And now he’s thrown again. “What?”
“I didn’t get in.”
“What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I can’t look at him. My failure is humiliating. “A few days ago.”
“I’m so sorry. God, I wish you’d told me. I had no idea.”
“I got a letter from la Sorbonne, too. Accepted.”
Josh deflates with visible relief. “That’s great. You deserve it.” But there’s sadness, too, as his posture sinks further. Because if I attend la Sorbonne, there will still be an ocean between us. “So what if Dartmouth does accept you? Where will you go?”
“I don’t know.” And I realize I’m crying. “I haven’t decided.”
“But…I thought…I thought we had a plan.”
“No, you had a plan. You have plans.”
Josh shakes his head in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”