Wednesday, July 8
What was I supposed to say when Arthur confessed that he loved me?
Was still in love with me?
I’ve been speechless since last night. After he left, I just stood in the entryway, staring at the door he’d just shut. Thinking about the door he’d just opened. I couldn’t wrap my head around it then, and I still can’t. It just doesn’t feel possible that he said those words out loud. To me. Here I was, so convinced he’d be in Boston by the end of the week, begging Mikey for a do-over. Just like last time.
But now he says he’s not over me. He can’t even imagine getting over me.
And I let him walk out.
I should have chased him.
No, I shouldn’t have.
There’s a time for big love confessions and it’s not right before I’m about to leave for Los Angeles with someone I really, really like. I didn’t ask for Arthur to swoop in like it’s the last act in some Broadway show. I’m not a character. I’m a real person whose heart he stomped on when he got back together with Mikey.
I never told Arthur how I’d found a Greyhound bus to New Haven for fifteen dollars. I was going to try to surprise him. My first time leaving New York. I couldn’t stop imagining the way his face would light up when I stepped off the train, imagining what it would feel like to finally kiss him again. I was so sure things were just about to fall into place for us.
And then he called me from the airport the day before New Year’s.
It was like someone turned a knob and made the entire world dimmer. Like my heart was cracking straight down the middle. I’d never felt heartbreak like that before, not even when I watched Arthur walk away from the post office on his last day in New York. I spent all of January in a black hole. I don’t even think Arthur knows that.
The thing is, Mario’s the only thing that’s made me feel almost normal in months.
Now all I can think of is Arthur with his hands pressed to his chest. Because for me, it’s always you. You’re the point of every story.
I keep drafting texts in my head, but then I triple-guess every word before I can even think about sending them. Knowing Arthur, he’s dying to hear from me. But if I’m not reaching out to say I love you too, then what’s the point?
I need time to figure out my feelings.
There’s a knock at my bedroom door.
“Entra, por favor,” I say.
My parents come into my bedroom. Ma has a plate of crackers smothered in peanut butter. Pa looks around at all the boxes, and I swear he’s fighting back tears.
“Aquí estás,” Ma says, handing me the snacks.
“Gracias.”
I barely have an appetite, even after skipping breakfast. I just want to pack myself into a box and hide in the darkness.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Pa says.
I look up at him. “About what?”
“Moving?” Pa says. “We haven’t rented out your room yet.”
“Oh. Right.”
Ma sits on the floor beside me. “I won’t bother asking you if you’re okay because I know you’re not.” She brushes my hair. “Talk to us, mijo.”
I don’t even deny that I’m not okay. I just avoid eye contact because I feel like I might crack and I’m trying to be stronger than this. I’m surrounded by boxes because I’m supposed to be—no, I am leaving for Los Angeles. Things are finally on track with Mario, and Arthur’s confession is creating traffic so I can’t move forward. That’s not fair. Not after he got to have a whole other relationship before realizing he wants to be with me.
Pa joins us on the floor. “We’re always going to be here for you, Benito, even when you’re not here with us. Except you’re going to be three hours behind us in California so do not call us after nine p.m. because your mother and I will be asleep.” He pats my back. “Talk to us while we’re all here together.”
I’ve spent so much time lately wishing I had more space from them. Things will be different when I can’t step out of my bedroom and find them on the couch.
“Uh. So…” I take a deep breath. “Last night Arthur said he’s still in love with me.”
My parents exchange a look. Like they’re trying to figure out who responds first. Then I think it’s more than that. It reminds me of a couple years ago when I came home with the news that I had to go to summer school. They knew my grades had suffered. They weren’t surprised. And I don’t think they are now either.
“How do you feel?” Ma asks.
“Like I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m not asking what you plan to do—I’m asking how you feel.”
“There are no wrong answers,” Pa says.
“There aren’t any easy ones either,” I say. “For so long I wanted Arthur to say everything that he said, and I kicked myself for not saying it whenever I had the chance. But it never seemed like we were going to make sense and it still wouldn’t make sense now. Or could it? I’m clearly willing to move. But then I’m screwing over Mario, who hasn’t done anything wrong. This would be simpler if one of them pulled a Hudson and cheated on me. But they didn’t. And they’re both amazing.”
Someone is going to get hurt.
“Again, Benito, you’re not answering the question. How do you feel?”
I don’t know why Ma is so obsessed with getting this answer out of me.
“I’m scared I’ll regret not taking this chance to make things right with Arthur. And I’m terrified that if it doesn’t work out, then I’ll have lost the only other person who wants to be with me.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Pa says. “There’s still Dylan.”
“Very true,” Ma says. “There are no vows powerful enough to keep him away from you.”
I give my parents the tiniest of smiles for trying to cheer me up.
Ma grabs my hand. “You have two wonderful young men who would be lucky to be with you and there’s more in the world who would be privileged to have a shot with you. It’s up to you right now to figure out what risk will make your heart happiest. You shouldn’t rush into deciding.”
“Though you don’t have forever to choose either,” Pa says. “There’s a moving truck to pack soon. And once I help you load your stuff, my job is done.”
“No pressure.”
“There’s some pressure,” Pa says, surprising me. Most parents would lie. “This is part of growing up. You’re not always going to be able to please and protect everyone you love. The best thing you can do when life is hard is try your best.” He kisses my head and gets up. “I believe in you.”
“Me too,” Ma says, taking Pa’s hand as he helps her up, too.
“Wait. Any chance you guys want to tell me which team you’re on? Arthur or Mario?”
“We’re always on your team,” Ma says, closing my bedroom door behind them.
“Not helpful!” I shout.
It’s very sweet, but I want someone to make this easier for me.
I grab my phone and call Dylan. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around everything before bringing it up to him because he’s going to ask a bunch of questions. Hopefully he can help me answer them, too.
He sends my call straight to voice mail and follows up with a text. At the courthouse.
Why? I text.
Suing Samantha for telling Patrick the news before I got to tell you.
Translation?
Paperwork. Marriage is boring!
Haha. Well, have fun with that. Call me later.
Bet your sweet ass I will.
I’m patting myself on the back for more character growth. Instead of getting worked up over Dylan living his life, I’m respecting it. He’s not ghosting or being weird. His priorities have shifted, and that’s part of growing up. My best friend can’t be around twenty-four/seven anymore. But I trust that when we do catch up, he’ll be unhelpful and flirty for an hour and then come through with something wise before bringing up my sweet ass again.
It’s too weird to bring up Arthur’s confession to Mario. I will, but not yet.
I’m scrolling through my phone contacts, hoping someone can help me wrap my head around all this. Everything is changing, and I don’t want to have any regrets.
I stop at someone’s name.
This feels crazy, but.
I’m going to ask my first ex-boyfriend for love advice.