Page 44 of Tempest

“Was I nothing but a hall pass? One last fling before you locked it all down?”

“No, Odette,” he urges, finally looking at me. “How could you think that?”

“How? Be real, Gavin. You’re the star couple and I’m the awkward girl that gets no attention. I know how it plays out; I’ve seen all those movies. What I don’t know is why me? What did I ever do to either of you?” Emotion clogs my throat, turning my words into something less than the strength I was hoping for.

“Fuck,” he curses, standing to pace in front of the steps. “I can’t believe…is that really what you think of me?”

Of course not, I want to scream. But I can’t tell him I’m in love with him now. So often people don’t understand what they have until it’s gone. I knew, though. I knew and I continued on with the relationship with hope in my heart. I happily pretended that the next four years of our lives wouldn’t be as hard as they seemed. That a long-distance relationship wasn’t something that would break us.

How can he think that anything I just said is truth? How can I be in this much pain and anguish, and he not feel it like a cold wind? It’s all I feel. I pull my knees higher, resting my head on them and cocooning myself in my sweater.

A small sob escapes, and I hate myself for it.

“Ode,” Gavin says, sitting next to me and pulling me close.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

“Please, Odette. Let me hold you while I explain,” he pleads, finally giving me the same sadness I’ve been feeling for days. “Caroline’s pregnant. I got her pregnant before we broke up and she wants to keep it. She’s not going to school. With my scholarship, the only way she can come with me is if we’re married. Plus, there’s insurance and everything. It’s all I could come up with.”

Gavin isn’t the type of guy to not take responsibility. He’s a team player. Caroline has been on his team for a long time, so I’m starting to wonder if I ever got past tryouts.

“When did you find out?”

“She came to tell me the night after we got back from the city.”

“Why didn’t you come sooner?”

“Will you look at me,” he asks. I don’t think I can, though, not if I want to keep myself held together. So, I shake my head, burying it further into my knees. “I was coming to terms with the decision I made. If I’d come sooner, I don’t think I could have gone through with it. I wouldn’t be able to say what I need to say to you.”

Goodbye. He means goodbye. I might die, here and now. The hurt is too sharp. My limbs vanish under its force, like my whole body becomes nothing but the throbbing in my chest. Just the breaking of the heart of a girl who never should have dared to believe she stood a chance.

“My mom saw the announcement,” I tell him.

“You shouldn’t have found out that way. I didn’t know they had done that until it was too late.”

I want to tell him that he should have come to me days ago, but how does that make me sound? He’s dealing with a life-changing event; I’m only dealing with heartache. Our problems aren’t on an equal level.

I love him. I love him enough to support him, even if I hate everything about it. I love him enough to not add to his own pain. It wouldn’t be love if I hated him for choosing a child or for supporting his family.

And that’s how I know what I feel is true.

Turning my head, I see him matching my position. We stare at each other in silence. I imagine he’s waiting for my reaction. He looks tired and weary.

“I don’t want this to be my last memory of you,” I say. Gavin closes his eyes in relief, probably thinking this conversation would go a different way.

“Will you go for a drive with me?” I nod and go back inside to tell my mom and get some shoes.

Gavin drives in more silence. It’s not a long drive, only about fifteen minutes before we stop at a fishing pond that’s been used by locals for decades. He pulls out the blanket he keeps in the trunk, the one he used on our first date at the waterfall. A poetic ending, maybe.

Still, we don’t speak as he takes my hand and leads me to the water’s edge where he spreads out the blanket. We lie there, staring at the stars that freckle the sky, not touching, not talking. Just being.

A single tear spills, and I roll over to my side to watch him. It’s hard not to touch him when all I want to do is crawl inside him and find comfort. I’ll need to find that on my own, though.

“Come here, Ode,” he whispers. “Let me hold you one more time.”

Five days later, I’m at Gavin’s wedding. I wasn’t invited, but I had to see. This closure has become an obsession the last few days. So, I stand in a side hallway of the church they chose, unseen and unnoticed. But I have a partial view of the nuptials. This was a rushed event, but they’ve still made it pretty with pale yellow flowers everywhere. They could have gone to the courthouse, had a private ceremony.

Except that they’re doing this for real. It’s not a shotgun wedding with the intention of it ending anytime soon. I imagine Caroline wanted some semblance of the wedding little girls dream about. Or maybe it’s for their families’ benefit.

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