with me? How can you do that to Ben? How can Jagger?”
“Honey, it’s been two years.”
“I know that, Mom! You think I don’t know exactly how long it’s been? But I was with Ben for seven years,” I cried.
“He’s gone, Grey,” she said as tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. “I know it’s hard, but he’s gone. It’s been years, and you have someone who has loved you and been there for you through everything. Someone who has taken care of you and will continue to. It’s okay to let yourself love someone again. It’s okay to move on.”
I shook my head slowly as I stepped away from them. “No. I can’t.” Looking to my brother, I gestured toward him. “Why are you looking at me like you think I’m making a mistake. You hate Jagger!”
“I don’t hate him, kid. I just . . .” He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders as he searched for the right words. “He was in love with my little sister. So was Ben. At that age, I wasn’t okay with any guy looking at you, let alone falling for you. But I’ve never hated either of them, and I respect Jagger for the way he’s stood back all these years, and has continued to just make sure you were okay.”
“This isn’t happening,” I whispered.
“If you didn’t like him, then that would be fine,” Graham said. “This conversation could be the last of it. You didn’t know how he felt, and then you find out about all of it the way you did—okay, I get it; he shocked you. But I think you’re taking this so hard because deep down you’re in love with him too—”
“What? No!”
“—and you don’t know if that’s okay. Mom’s right, though. As hard as it is, Ben’s gone, and it’s okay to move on. It’s not saying anything about you or the way you felt about Ben by letting yourself love Jagger.”
“I’m not in love with him!”
Graham made a face, and my mom looked at me like she was waiting for me to realize something. But I couldn’t. I refused to think about it. Because if they were right . . . no, they couldn’t be. I couldn’t do that to Ben. Not letting my mind go in that direction, I focused on nothing but memories of Ben as I ran up the stairs and to my room.
Jagger
May 23, 2014
L I F T I N G T H E B O T T L E to my lips, I took a long pull of the beer before setting it down beside me, my eyes never leaving the unfinished drawing at the end of the hall as the fingers of my other hand folded and unfolded a nine-year-old note. As the pad of my thumb ran over the worn paper, the words scrawled on it played over and over in my head, as if they were mocking me. Words I’d wanted to say forever, and words I hadn’t even gotten out today. If I’d thought before that they were words Grey would never hear, I knew now for a fact that if she were to hear them, they would destroy whatever remained of our friendship. Crumpling up the note, I tossed it aside and raked my hands over my head and down my face, keeping my face planted firmly in them as I wished for time to go back.
If only I hadn’t been blasting my music—I would have heard her come in. If only I would have known she was coming over this morning—I wouldn’t have been drawing, she wouldn’t have seen it or the other drawings of her, and I wouldn’t have confessed something that should have never been voiced. A dozen other if-onlys went through my mind as I sat there thinking about her horrified expression when I told her I loved her.
My phone beeped, and I grabbed it off the floor. I sighed roughly and ground my jaw when I saw the name, but opened the message anyway.
Graham: I thought you should know . . . Grey just left for Seattle. She said she’s going to spend the summer with Janie. I’m sorry, man.
I read the message three times, before quickly going through my phone to call Grey. It rang until her voice mail picked up, and I hung up only to call her again—getting the same result. Without leaving a message, I called
“Honey, it’s been two years.”
“I know that, Mom! You think I don’t know exactly how long it’s been? But I was with Ben for seven years,” I cried.
“He’s gone, Grey,” she said as tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. “I know it’s hard, but he’s gone. It’s been years, and you have someone who has loved you and been there for you through everything. Someone who has taken care of you and will continue to. It’s okay to let yourself love someone again. It’s okay to move on.”
I shook my head slowly as I stepped away from them. “No. I can’t.” Looking to my brother, I gestured toward him. “Why are you looking at me like you think I’m making a mistake. You hate Jagger!”
“I don’t hate him, kid. I just . . .” He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders as he searched for the right words. “He was in love with my little sister. So was Ben. At that age, I wasn’t okay with any guy looking at you, let alone falling for you. But I’ve never hated either of them, and I respect Jagger for the way he’s stood back all these years, and has continued to just make sure you were okay.”
“This isn’t happening,” I whispered.
“If you didn’t like him, then that would be fine,” Graham said. “This conversation could be the last of it. You didn’t know how he felt, and then you find out about all of it the way you did—okay, I get it; he shocked you. But I think you’re taking this so hard because deep down you’re in love with him too—”
“What? No!”
“—and you don’t know if that’s okay. Mom’s right, though. As hard as it is, Ben’s gone, and it’s okay to move on. It’s not saying anything about you or the way you felt about Ben by letting yourself love Jagger.”
“I’m not in love with him!”
Graham made a face, and my mom looked at me like she was waiting for me to realize something. But I couldn’t. I refused to think about it. Because if they were right . . . no, they couldn’t be. I couldn’t do that to Ben. Not letting my mind go in that direction, I focused on nothing but memories of Ben as I ran up the stairs and to my room.
Jagger
May 23, 2014
L I F T I N G T H E B O T T L E to my lips, I took a long pull of the beer before setting it down beside me, my eyes never leaving the unfinished drawing at the end of the hall as the fingers of my other hand folded and unfolded a nine-year-old note. As the pad of my thumb ran over the worn paper, the words scrawled on it played over and over in my head, as if they were mocking me. Words I’d wanted to say forever, and words I hadn’t even gotten out today. If I’d thought before that they were words Grey would never hear, I knew now for a fact that if she were to hear them, they would destroy whatever remained of our friendship. Crumpling up the note, I tossed it aside and raked my hands over my head and down my face, keeping my face planted firmly in them as I wished for time to go back.
If only I hadn’t been blasting my music—I would have heard her come in. If only I would have known she was coming over this morning—I wouldn’t have been drawing, she wouldn’t have seen it or the other drawings of her, and I wouldn’t have confessed something that should have never been voiced. A dozen other if-onlys went through my mind as I sat there thinking about her horrified expression when I told her I loved her.
My phone beeped, and I grabbed it off the floor. I sighed roughly and ground my jaw when I saw the name, but opened the message anyway.
Graham: I thought you should know . . . Grey just left for Seattle. She said she’s going to spend the summer with Janie. I’m sorry, man.
I read the message three times, before quickly going through my phone to call Grey. It rang until her voice mail picked up, and I hung up only to call her again—getting the same result. Without leaving a message, I called
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