“What are you thinking about, June? I scared you, didn’t I?”
He seemed to ask that question on purpose to pause the story.
“No, absolutely not. I was just thinking—”
I froze. I didn’t know how to behave. Should I be honest? What if I hurt his feelings?
If James was there instead of William, I would’ve told him everything that was going through my head. He was still just James. But the truth was that I was afraid that Will would feel bad.
“I was thinking about a painting that my mom did.” I interpreted his intrigued gaze as an invitation to continue. “The subject was a tree divided in half. One side had all the bright colors of spring—the brilliant green of the foliage, the blue sky, the golden cornfields. But the other side was black and white. I think it represented the duality of existence, the blending of life and death that defines it. Maybe it has nothing to do with what you’re telling me, but I wanted to tell you. You made me think of it.”
Will didn’t laugh at me or tease me.
“I think about it a lot,” he articulated slowly.
“About what?”
“Death.”
What followed was an exchange of delicate glances between us. I stayed quiet, respecting his time until he decided to continue
“Maybe I’m like your mom’s painting, but the opposite. Death isn’t my gray area, it’s the brightly colored one. And when I’m in my dark times and I feel too alive, then I seek out extreme experiences like death itself.”
Races, drugs, violence.
It wasn’t James who dragged Will into these messes; in fact, it might be the exact opposite.
“I don’t mean to dismiss what you just told me, but I just want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with you, Will. That’s okay. Everyone has mood swings.” I understood that his problem was a lot more serious than that, but I wanted him to feel understood, not judged.
William smiled strangely at me, so I allowed myself a naïve observation to lighten the mood.
“I think about my mom, myself—maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m also a lunatic. Even Amelia is. She’s a sweetheart to me one day and other days she almost doesn’t talk to me.” Now that I said it, I realized that there were days when Amelia didn’t even talk to me at all. “And think about Jackson, who’s impossible sometimes. Don’t even get me started on James, even he’s so—”
Bipolar.
My jaw dropped. That’s what I’d said at Will’s party in front of everyone. And that was why everyone looked at me badly and he’d thrown me out of his house. My eyes went wide with worry.
“Will, I’m sorry for saying that awful shit. It became a stupid turn of phrase, and we shouldn’t be so cavalier about it.” The words rushed out of my mouth like a flooding river. I felt disheartened
“No, please, don’t apologize, June. If it’s because you feel sorry for me . . .”
“I don’t feel sorry for you. It’s because I’ve been insensitive around you sometimes.”
He grinned, and his two nearly invisible dimples formed at the sides of his mouth.
“I like you like this, June, for who you are. I don’t know what else there is to say.”
I smiled back.
“Whereas in my case, there’s nothing unexpected. I already know what will happen. If my mood gets better, I spend two to three months where I feel well, but I also do a ton of stupid stuff.” He lowered his head, embarrassed by what he’d said, or maybe because of what he’d done in the past. “And paradoxically, that’s the exact time when you don’t want to know me, June.” I squeezed his hand.
“I’m sure that—”
“I get aggressive. I do really stupid shit. Just to do it. I also do a lot of stuff that’s wrong. Really wrong.”
I shook my head to chase away those words, which were so harsh that they drew images in my mind that I couldn’t superimpose on a guy as good and sensitive as William. They didn’t match.
“There’s a solution for everything, right?”
