She was pretty. So very pretty. She knew more about me than anyone in the world. And I was probably never going to see her again after we moved.
Kitty crossed the room and sat next to me on the bed, putting a tentative hand on my back. It wasn’t nighttime like it had been at the beach. We weren’t in a closet. We were sitting on my bed, alone in my house. Under different circumstances, I might have picked up where we left off on the beach. But I needed Kitty in a different way than that. I needed her as my best friend. I leaned into her side at first, then gave in and put my head in her lap. When my body shook with tears, she cried, too. She comforted me while grieving it all in her own way.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered when my crying slowed. I nodded, letting her lightly scratch my scalp with her nails. It felt so nice.
“I have bad news,” she said. I turned on my back to look up at her and raised my eyebrows. What could get worse? “You stink, Guy-Guy.”
I coughed out a laugh. “Sorry. Your brother got me drunk.” I sat up and wiped my face.
“Yeah, well, your mom got me drunk and I don’t stink,” she jabbed. “You eat anything?”
I shook my head. She stood up and offered me her hand. “Go clean yourself up. I’ll make you some food.”
I took her hand and stood, bending to kiss her temple. “I don’t deserve you,ma puce.”
Kitty’s whole face flushed and her eyes went sad. She pretended to study some hockey sticks tacked to my wall. I didn’t kiss her after our middle-of-the-night beach make-out, even though I wanted to. I dated other girls, but Kitty was always my favorite. I was so comfortable around her. I didn’t have to put on a front with her. She was Just Kitty, and I could be Just Guy.
I just didn’t want to taint her with my problems. I reallydidn’tdeserve her. If I was anything like my dad, I’d ruin her just like Papa ruined Maman. Better to keep it light and breezy with someone who didn’t matter than ruin the one who mattered the most.
Then there’s the fact that Frank might have killed me. I don’t really get why. If Kitty was mine, I’d treat her so nice. I wouldn’t screw her around like I did the other girls. I only gave them half my efforts because I really wanted Kitty.
The cycle went on: I half-assed with a girl, she got mad at me, Frank saw it, Frank swore I’d never be touching his sister.
Plus, what if we broke up and I lost Heather, Mark,andFrank, too? I couldn’t lose my bonus family.
But none of that really mattered when Maman and I were going back to Canada.
Showered and teeth brushed, I entered our tiny living room. Kitty sat with two plates of grilled cheese and a foolish number of extra pickles on our plates, plus a couple of Dr. Peppers on the coffee table. She knew they were my favorite.
“Did you go to your house for those?” I asked. Maman didn’t let us have soda. She said they’d rot my teeth.
Kitty nodded with a sly smile. “I can recycle them at my house,too. Hide the evidence.”
“You get me.”
“What do you want to watch?” she asked.
“That old UCB special?” Kitty, Frank, and I loved improv comedy shows. Upright Citizens Brigade was one of our go-to’s. Frank and I were just there for the laughs, but Kitty seemed to absorb it in a different way. She was a student of the craft, dedicating herself to understanding how to form jokes. She said she wanted to study comedy writing at Alden. I thought she’d be perfect for it.
We sat on our respective ends of the couch and watched while we ate, laughing around our grilled cheese and pickle feast. When I was done, I decided it was now or never. I was moving away. I’d never see Kitty again after we left West Virginia. I knew how to be smooth with girls, but I found myself sweating trying to figure out how to get close to Kitty. I’d even kissed her before. Why was I such a mess? While I shifted in my seat and deliberated, she looked over at me.
“You okay? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like you have ants in your pants or something.”
I laughed nervously. “Ants?” My breathing went shallow and fast. My heart galloped in my chest. I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts. “Kitty Bird, I . . .”
Our eyes locked, her deep brown studying me with X-ray like vision. Understanding washed over her expression.
“I know.” Did she though? Did she know how much I loved her? As a friend, and as the person who just seemed to get me?
“I don’t think you do,” I said.
“I know you don’t want to leave. But I know you have to. We can still talk.”
She didn’t know. She didn’t know about the love. I went with her line of thinking.
