We might never have reconnected if Sybil hadn’t suggested we travel together one summer during college. On that trip the vestiges of our old friendship slowly began to regrow, eventually blossoming back into the fierce connection we have today.
All through college we never spoke about prom or the dark period where our friendship had waned or anything relating to Finn Hughes, outside of the occasional life updates that Sybil would toss my way and I’d pretend to only half listen to. But the truth was, I soaked up every word—half hoping to hear that he had suffered some humiliation on the level of the mortification he caused me… half hoping for signs that the sweet, nerdy guy I’d fallen so hard for was still there, deep down. And that, one day, we too might find our way back to each other. But I knew better than to hold my breath. Finn had revealed himself to be careless with people’s hearts—withmyheart. And when someone shows you who they are, you’re supposed to believe them. So I did.
But over the ensuing years, there’d be moments where I’d forget. I’d let myself get swept up in dreams of what Finn and Icould beinstead of accepting the reality in front of me. When I eventually learned the true story of why Finn stood me up for prom—a story that proved more complex than it first appeared—I thought perhaps I’d misjudged Finn. That perhaps thingscouldwork out between us after all. But in the end, my hopeful musings turned out be nothing but another mistake.
7
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
(Two days before the wedding)
“IDO FEEL Alittle bad for Aaron,” Finn says, tearing back the wrapper on his burrito. “It’s no fun to be on the other end of your wrath.”
We’re back in the car, sitting in the parking lot. Finn hands me half of his burrito—mine having been a tragic casualty of my attack on Aaron Brinkley—but I decline the peace offering. I’m still savoring my righteous rage.
Finn just shrugs, as if to sayYour loss, and goes on eating. After he takes a couple of bites, he says, “I remember the first time I saw you go beast mode like that. Some dick was making fun of your sister, and you totally lost it on him.”
“I don’t ‘go beast mode,’” I insist. But I blush as thememory comes to me. The dick in question had leaned over the bus seat and asked my redheaded nine-year-old sister “if the carpet matched the drapes.” Liz had no idea what it meant but could sense that he was trying to make her uncomfortable, snickering with his buddy. As soon as I saw the tears start to well in her eyes, I launched from my seat, not bothering to wait for the bus to come to a complete stop before pouring an entire can of iced tea on his head while screaming at him to leave my sister alone.
Finn chuckles as if he’s been replaying the scene in his mind too. “You really do, Em. But it’s nice. You only go Hulk like that for the people you love.” There’s a softness in his voice, and when I meet his eye, I see something that almost looks like longing there. But then he breaks the moment, going in for another burrito bite. “Anyway, you must really love Nikki based on that display in there. You were impressively detailed in how you would kill Aaron. Like maybe you’ve thought about it. A lot.”
“He deserves it. You can’t claim to care about someone, and then abandon them. It’s cruel.”
Finn turns in his seat to face me, seriousness replacing the amused smirk that had graced his face moments before. “Is this about what happened between us?”
“No,” I say, which is mostly true. Though I can see why Finn might think I’m making a slightly passive-aggressive reference to our shared past. I reflect on the handful of times I was led to believe Finn might care about me, only to have that misconception corrected in the most mortifying ways. Because in the end, Finn always showed me who he really was: thoughtless and untrustworthy. Just like Aaron, and just like my dad.
I think back to five years ago, when Sybil asked if Finn could crash at our place for a couple of nights when he was in town for work. I’d pretty readily given in and agreed, but later that night I began to regret my decision.
“Does he have to stay with us?” I asked, legs swinging off our fire escape. Struggling to find a good reason why he shouldn’t, I landed on “He is such a flake.”
“He is not a flake.” Sybil rolled her eyes affectionately, and I shot her a skeptical look back. “Okay, so he sometimes has flake-ish tendencies,” Sybil admitted as she handed me a Bluetooth speaker before climbing through my bedroom window to sit next to me. “But so do I, and you still love me.”
“He stood me up at prom because he was atthe mall.” I connected my phone to the speaker, and Sybil’s latest indie-pop playlist began to mingle with the sounds of the city.
Sybil opened her mouth to speak but then pursed her lips.
“Just spit it out, Sybs.”
“Okay, yes. He did flake on prom, and standing you up was a shitty thing. He screwed up,” Sybil conceded. “But does one mistake define a person?”
Yes, I thought, turning back to watch the world pass below on Second Avenue. Some mistakes do define you. Some mistakes leave you irrevocably changed.
BACK IN THESINGER,Finn seems for a minute like he wants to press the issue, to actually get into what happened between us four and a half years ago at Katie Dalton’s wedding, but he just puts the car in drive and pulls out of the lot. We drop down agear as we turn back onto I-5. Finn keeps hold of his burrito as he lets go of the wheel and moves his left hand to the stick shift. It’s an incredibly smooth maneuver, and I can’t help but be a little impressed. Once, after I’d admitted to rewatchingThe West Wingfor the eighth time, Willow told me I had a “competence kink” because I love people talking fast and skillfully solving for solutions. Her words inexplicably come back to me now as I watch Finn weave in and out of traffic. It’s probably just that the Singer is such an exceptional machine, it can make anyone seem like a great driver.
My phone buzzes, and Nikki’s name appears on my screen with an incoming call.
“What is theonething I asked you before you left here?”
Shit.
I decide to go straight to denial and diversion. “To drive safe? Hey, by the way, any word from Sybil yet?”
“Aaron just texted me.”
“He did?” Playing dumb never works. My pulse is causing my neck to throb.
“Yes, he very much did, Emma Mae.”
