The mirror reveals the only black eye I’ve gotten from anyone but my father. This one’s courtesy of Saint. And Tom. Tom was with him.
They’d ambushed me coming from English class. After the punch, Saint grabbed my arms and held them behind my back.
“Leave her alone!” Saint yelled.
I didn’t struggle, just looked at him. “What do you mean?” I said, my father’s face taking over, his cool eyes appraising Saint’s fiery ones. I’d seen that face enough to be able to put it on and off. I hated myself for it.
“You know damn well. Stop calling her! Stop talking to her in the halls! Stop leaving little presents in her locker!” He shook me with every sentence. “She’s not interested, okay?”
“Who’s not?” I said, cool as he was hot. “Caitlin? I’m not allowed to talk to Caitlin.”
“Don’t screw with me. We both know you do, and I don’t need a court order to kick your ass!” He shoved me against a locker. “Consider this a preview.”
“Come on, Nick,” Tom pleaded with me. “Just lay off.”
I glared at him. “You’re not speaking to me, so shut up.” I pulled from Saint’s grip. “And you’re just pissed I got there first.”
As I walked away, Saint yelled, “By the way, thanks for the roses. I told her I bought them.”
Now, I pull the photograph of Tom and me off the mirror. I look at it a second before I rip it unrecognizable.
I’d been camped on Caitlin’s doorstep since two, after a morning spent on the beach, texting her over and over to forgive me. She didn’t answer, and there was nowhere else I could think of to be. At five forty-five, Caitlin showed up with Elsa. I demanded to know where she’d been.
“What business is that of yours?” Elsa said. Caitlin fished for her keys, avoiding my eyes.
“We need to talk,” I said.
Elsa grabbed Caitlin’s arm. “She isn’t speaking to you.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?” I said. When Elsa didn’t move, I thrust a silver-wrapped package toward Caitlin.
“I can’t, Nick.”
It’s hard for me to admit this, even to a notebook. Even to myself. But at that point, I begged. Flat-out begged her to open it. It was my only chance. I sank to my knees, not caring how I looked. Nothing mattered. Nothing.
And finally, Caitlin gave in. She pulled from Elsa’s grip, eyes weary under her heavy makeup. I straightened. She took the package, peeled off the paper, gasping at the leather-crested box. She opened it.
The amethyst caught the sun’s dying rays from its diamond perch. Caitlin’s eyes widened.
“I was going to wait ’til Christmas,” I said. “But there won’t be Christmas without you. There’s nothing good for me without you.” Elsa made the “tiny violin” gesture with thumb and forefinger, but Caitlin turned the box in her hand. “Put it on,” I said.
Elsa’s voice. “She won’t take you back just because—”
“I love you, Caitlin.” I ignored Elsa.
“Caitlin, you can’t be bought with some trinket.” Elsa was angry. She pointed to Caitlin. “You think I haven’t noticed that big, red mark on your face? He did that to you.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Did he?” Elsa demanded. “Caitlin?”
Caitlin was silent. We stood there a long time. Caitlin looked from me to Elsa, then back. Finally, she said, “Of course not.”
“Oh, God! You’re such a liar! You should be happy together, a liar and a criminal.” Elsa stormed into the street, not checking for traffic.
Caitlin started to follow. I stopped her, saying, “Try it on, Cat.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re going to let her boss you around?” I slipped the box from Caitlin’s hand and removed the ring. I took her hand. When she didn’t pull away, I eased the ring over her knuckle. “Give me a chance, Cat.”
“I don’t know.”
“So, you don’t love me anymore?”
Caitlin didn’t answer. Mrs. McCourt’s car pulled into the garage. I heard footsteps in the house. Then she was in our faces. She winked at me, barely looking at Caitlin.
“Your hair’s a mess. Can’t believe he stays around with you looking like that.” She smiled at me again. I still held Caitlin’s hand and saw Mrs. McCourt’s eyes go from my face to our hands. They lit on the ring. “Where’d you get that?”
Caitlin raised her head. “Nick gave it to me.”
“Give it back. A young lady does not accept jewelry from a gentleman.” She turned her shadowed eyes on me. “Where does a boy your age get that kind of money?”
Caitlin muttered something about dealing cocaine, and her mother said, “Sarcasm isn’t attractive.”
“Who’s being sarcastic?” Caitlin said.
Mrs. McCourt shook her head. “Caitlin can’t keep the ring, Nick.”
“I’m keeping it,” Caitlin said, which was news to me. She crossed her arms, stuffing the ringed hand between elbow and breast. “I’d think you’d be happy someone buys me a present, but no. You’re jealous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Caitlin didn’t respond. Mrs. McCourt yanked her into the house and slammed the door. I walked to the driveway, unsure whether I was high as a concert audience or lower than a flea at an NBA convention.
When I got to the car, I heard my name. I searched the pink shutters for an open window. I walked toward it. I could barely see through the screen, but she held up her hand, and the ring gleamed.
“I’ll keep it,” she said.
“To piss off your mother?”
“She sent me to my room—can you believe it?” Caitlin rattled the screen until it detached. She stuck her hand under and reached for mine. “It’s not the ring, it’s you. All day, I’ve thought about what you said about changing. How you loved me. I didn’t tell anyone we broke up except Elsa. Big mistake.”
“Was it?”
She nodded. The black screen didn’t dull her blue eyes when she said, “I love you, Nick. I want to be with you. I just want you not to hit me.”
I promised I wouldn’t, and she said, “I believe you.”