“What if you don’t have it to give?”
I replied, “I can’t give what I don’t have.”
“Okay, what if you have it but don’twantto give it?”
I had to run up the white flag, at that point.He’d lost me.“What, exactly, are you worried about?”
“I just…” Big sigh from Diego.“I don’t like the idea that you think you have something to prove to me, is all.”
“But I do.”Obviously.
“No.I mean, no more than I do to you.”
I squinted, like that’d help me see his point better.“What?”
He held up one hand, obviously trying to work something out before he spoke again.
I nodded and waited, watching his pretty face go on a whole damn journey.
Finally, he went on with, “The last time we saw each other before you left for school, at that party?”
“In the woods,” I added.Diego had been pissed at me, so he’d stomped away from the bonfire and disappeared into the trees.I’d followed.
“Right.I finally let all the resentment I was building up explode on you.Said you were ashamed of me, said you didn’t want me in your real life, shit like that.”
I winced.I couldn’t recall his exact words, but I definitely remembered the effect they’d had on me.
“Did it hurt?”he asked.
“Yeah.”I looked down into the whisked eggs.“Because you were right.Not that I was ashamed of you, but—”
“No.Stop.Lemme finish.Did it hurt to never see me again, after that?Did it leave a mark at all?”
“Obviously it did.You know it did.”But as I said it, I had to wonder if hedidknow.We hadn’t talked much about it since that first night at the wedding.Just a little on our first date, when he’d made it clear he wanted to move past all that.
I was trying for his sake, and we’d been having fun.But it was always there, lurking in the background, the massive, teenage elephant in the room.
Diego nodded.“Okay, so, I’m not the only one with scars here.”
I frowned.“But you didn’t—”
“Stop.”He held up his hand again.“Stop taking all the credit for how fucked up it got in the end.I deserve at least half of it.Maybe more.”
“What are you talking about?You wanted to be open, you wanted to be a couple, and I never even thought about it.”Which sounded fucking insane to me, now.It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with Diego back then—It was that I was content being with him in secret, because I hadn’t even been capable of calculating what the fallout would be otherwise.I was happy with him, I thought he was happy with me, and we both had plans to fuck off and do our own thing after graduation anyhow.
Did I hope we could think of a way to keep it up after I left for school in Tennessee?Yeah, of course I did.Diego was the best thing in my life, which was saying a lot for a guy from a shitty no-prospects small town with an athletic scholarship to a great university.I didn’t realize it in time, because I was a dumb kid, but I knew I wanted him around… forever.The way he talked, though, he’d be off to get famous in NYC; he never said I’d be dragging him down, but I knew it.
So I had to ask, “How is that your fault?””
“Because I nevertold youthat was what I wanted.Not until you were leaving.”He patted the table for emphasis.
I opened my mouth to argue.Then shut it.“I mean, I don’t remember…”
“I didn’t,” he insisted.“If I had, you would’ve been tortured, and you’d fucking remember.”
Slowly, I nodded.I would’ve had to try and calculate the incalculable damage, anyhow.Which would’ve been hard, but, “Tortured is a strong word.”
“Conflicted, then.”He rolled his eyes.“Should you have thought of it?Maybe.But you had a lot of other shit going on, and you were a kid, and you didn’t.But I thought of itall the time, so I should’ve said something.And I was too fucking scared.”
