Change 4–Day 55

I waited till eleven, then picked my way across the messy floor on heavy, sore legs, locked myself in the bathroom, and dialed Audrey. She picked up her phone after one ring, whispered, “Hold on,” and presumably headed somewhere for some privacy from her family too, the forbidden young lovers of the Montague and Capulet households back in action!

“How are you feeling?” I ask after she returns to the line.

“I should be asking you that,” she says. “My brother hasn’t stopped peacocking around the house in nothing but his ripped old Central jersey and tight-ass performance briefs. Like he was the one who threw that last touchdown.”

“I think he believes he did.”

“I can’t wait for his knee rehab to be over so he can go the hell off to college and be somebody else’s problem.” I can tell she’s outside, because it sounds like a big truck roars by. “Blergh, I don’t want to talk about him now. Sooooo . . .”

“So,” I say.

“So.”

Our familiar pattern. She doesn’t know how familiar it is.

“I wanted to talk to you about the letter,” I say then.

“Too much?”

“No!”

“Oh, phew. I considered throwing it away without giving it to you.”

“That would’ve been a national disaster.”

“Remains to be seen.”

“Okay, so I . . .” I begin to say, before stalling out.

This is it. Here’s the line. I see it right in front of me. And now I have to decide whether to cross that line. Right here, right now.

Audrey is quiet. I think I hear her soft breathing on the other end of the line. I can feel a rush of sweat in my pits, on the palms of my hands.

“Uh. Well, I guess I wanted to say that you’re right. I am afraid of something.”

“Oh?”

“And there is something holding me back,” I continue. “But that’s not your problem. It’s my problem. And I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay, wow,” she says. It seems like that wasn’t what she was prepared to hear from me.

“Anyway . . .” I can feel my heart pounding through my rib cage. You know what? Fuck it.

FUCK.

IT.

I can be with Audrey and not reveal who I am.

We’re connected in some strange, inevitable way anyhow. What’s the difference whether she knows who I am or not? She’s drawn to me, so why does it matter why she’s drawn to me? I’ve been Kyle long enough that I know how to stay in check. If I can lead a team to a football championship, I can avert some stupid kiss vision. Besides, Tracy said it may not even be what it seems to be. Maybe the crash is a metaphor. Or a red herring. It must be, because come hell or high water, I could never act in a way that would enrage Audrey to that point.

Fate can’t play out if you already know what’s supposedly going to happen. Like, if I know a deer is supposed to jump out from this tree at this exact time, on this exact road, I won’t go down that road. Problem solved.

And let’s say, for the sake of argument, I find myself on the road regardless, and I’m about to come upon that time and place in the road where I know the deer is supposed to jump out: I can always slam on the brakes.

I am in control of my life. My lives are not in control of me.

And when it comes time to pick my Mono, maybe Kyle will need to be sacrificed (regardless of how good it feels living a life like his). Or maybe he won’t. I don’t have to decide that this instant. All I know is what I know. That I love this girl, and she loves me, and she knew about the whole Changer thing and was mostly unfazed by it, and so nothing will tear us asunder. Not even so-called prophesy or kismet or whatever you want to call it.

So I clear my throat, speak right into the phone so there can be no confusion in the matter whatsoever, and say: “Audrey, will you go out with me?”