I don’t dare make a comment about his ironic word choice. Not that I have time to. Derick is winding back his arm and chucking the phone out into the overgrown field. It arcs like a sparrow swooping down for bugs and disappears into the stalks.
“Wren, I hate that I’m going to see Wiley’s suffer at the hands of my family. They—he—shouldn’t get to inflict any more damage.” Hurt sucks the last of the light out of his tired eyes. “For so long, I’ve been told to be a certain way. Join a frat, make the grade, get a good job. Only speak up if you have something smart to say. You can be gay, but don’t make a thing of it. And above all else, don’t do anything to tarnish the family name or business.” He spouts a sardonic laugh. “So much pressure for so long, I’m like, what parts of me are evenme, you know? How much of who I am did they…construct? Today was the first day I’ve felt like I was acting on my own wants and needs. Not someone else’s.”
“I could tell.”
“And, of course, it didn’t even work. That’s what makes this infuriating. Not that I can’t go home. I didn’t want to be there anyway. It’s infuriating that this was my last resort. That it even had to come to my last resort!”
I let him go off, releasing the anger that’s festered inside him for so long.
“For the better part of this summer, since we started getting close again, I’ve been attempting to jump-start Wiley’s, just the same as you. I’ve scoured the engagement data, built the filters, and run the giveaways.” It’s strange to hear him confirm my suspicion. I should’ve seen it. Iwould’veseen it had I not been so wrapped up in my own insular cocoon. “Anything to boost sales and give my father a reason not to move ahead with demolition. But I failed.”
What he did today took guts, but it also took gall. I wish I could protect him from the fallout, use a mystical force field to shield him from the inevitable pain.
But I can’t. I know that now. Wishing to be superhuman was a waste of mental space.
“No, hey. You didn’t fail. We can’t control everything. Believe me, I’ve tried. Really. Since forever, I’ve tried to micromanage my life, to direct it the way it might play out in a movie. I’ve waffled between indecision and bad decision so many times that I’ve lost count. But I’ve realized recently, sometimes you’ve gotta let life be life.” I never pegged Mateo as a prophet, yet here I am, spreading his good word like a devout disciple. Maybe he does have the powers of divine intervention after all.
“You made a very clear statement today that you are your own person. Not a product of your family or some scapegoat they can push around.” There’s a tense, pulsating need in the set of his jaw. It takes all my willpower not to massage my thumb from the base of his ear to the tip of his chin, to take on at least some of that burden. “You are so brave and creative and funny and charming. And sure, yeah, you were born into more status than this small town can handle, but you can’t change that. You are who you are because of everything you’ve been through. Not in spite of it.”
His shoulders ease, and slowly the muscles in his face relax. “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.” His voice is small yet hopeful. “You’re good at that.”
“Good at what?”
“Big, meaningful speeches. I know you said you were scared and that public speaking made you queasy, but at both of those meetings, you made it seem like it was second nature. It’s like you accessed some surprising new part of you. It inspired me to do the same.”
“That makes me happy.” I pause, letting it sink in that in tiny ways, we make each other better, push each other to strive for more.
“Youmake me happy, Wren.”
“You make me happy too. So happy, in fact, that I can’t believe how I treated you the night that everything went to shit. I should’ve let you explain. I was angry, and I lashed out in a way I never have before. I scared myself.”
“I get it.”
“I wanted easier, better communication between us, and what did I do when I should’ve stopped and listened? I shut you down and I ghosted you because some sick part of me thought that made things better.” Ghosting, I’ve learned, is not worth it from either side. “Guess we still need more practice with this whole open-and-honest thing.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” A beat passes. “I’m not doing anything. Think we could squeeze in some practice now?” Earnest, always so damn earnest.
“I think we could.” I unbutton my collar and consider my words carefully, knowing I’ve only got one chance to get this right. “I’m sorry, Derick. I’m sorry I reacted in the moment without stopping to consider you, your situation, or your feelings. I never want to make you feel that way, and I will work overtime to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”
He nods, my words uncorking his expression. “I’m sorry too, Wren. I should’ve told you everything. Right away. There’s no excuse. I can rationalize it all I want, that I was trying to protect you or whatever. My dad always said ask for forgiveness, not permission, and that’s what I thought I was doing, but really I was just willfully keeping information from you. Important information. I know better now, and I’m really damn sorry.”
“We should coin this the Summer of I’m Sorry, huh?” I’m desperately hoping for him to crack at least a small, loose smile at this. No such luck.
Then, right as I think the moment will lapse, he quips, “Not nearly as good as the Summer of Free Ice Cream.” There it is. Shiny, white teeth peek out from between his parted lips. I could soar, powered only by that smile.
“I think we still have time to turn this one around.” I poke his bicep. “Maybe make this the Summer of Forgiveness instead?”
The buffer space disappears. Derick is close now, and his eyes are glassy. Hope blooms behind my rib cage.
“I’d like that.”
“I would too.”
His face becomes a sun-shower. I wrap him in my arms and rub slow, sure circles on his back like he did for me that day at Alice’s kitchen table when she showed me her special notebook. His tears eventually cause my own to fall, the reality of the drive-in walloping me all at once.
We shudder into each other’s bodies, letting the shoulders of our shirts get soaked through.
Minutes later, the door swings open behind us, and Alice steps out onto the porch in a more casual outfit than the one from earlier. “You two blubbering babies done out here? I found some deli meat and some unmoldy bread. Eat something before you both wither away on my stoop.”
