Page 31 of About Time

I’mgrateful for the distraction my courses provide. During the day I can stay buried in textbooks. There’s always something I can do to keep my mind occupied and not focus on the fact that the essential questions I have about my relationship with Charlie are still floating out there unanswered. There’s still something between us, but it’s just as ephemeral as it was this summer.

Not that it’s particularly hard for him to do that right now. I’ve kept myself so busy with school that popping back to Harriston mid week is out of the question. The first couple of weekends Charlie had to work overtime. At least that was the excuse he gave me.

It’s like we’re playing a game of relationship chicken. The first one to break and admit they miss the other loses. Except, I am miserable. I can’t seem to fight the depression coming over me. I’m overly emotional, constantly exhausted, and my appetite has up and run away. I can’t even think about food without getting nauseous.

I’ve all but withdrawn from my friends. There’s no way I can hide the fact that I’m a fucking mess. When Charlie left withMartin after they helped me move, I mistakenly thought he’d let go of the idea that we had to be over with the summer. I guess I should just call this a life lesson, and move on. He’s texted a few times, mostly excuses for why he can’t come visit, or why he won’t have time if I came to visit. Otherwise, it’s been radio silence.

I keep telling myself that it’s time to pull up my big girl pants and get on with the rest of my life. The problem is, no one knows about Charlie and me, so I don’t have anyone to turn to now that we’re over. Instead of doing anything constructive I just stay in my one-room apartment with the blinds drawn wallowing.

I put on a cheery front when Elisa calls. She buys it, I think. She doesn’t call me out for lying at least. It’s easier to fake happiness over the phone than in person. Mandy went to college back east, she’s pre-law, which means she’s as busy as I’ve been forcing myself to be. Unfortunately, I’m so far ahead in my assignments that all I have left are my labs in science and a group project in English literature.

Donovan is another story. He stayed back in Harriston working construction. He makes decent money, but he’s saving most of it to buy the bar when the current owner decides to retire. Several times over the last few weeks he’s tried to get us to hang out, but I came up with a reason why it was a bad time.

I’m a shit friend. Not only am I hiding what has been a big part of my life for the last couple of months, but I’m also flat-out avoiding seeing him. With a loud pounding on my door, my time of burrowing deep into my hole of depression comes to an end.

“I know you’re home, Hattie, open the door,” Donovan’s voice booms.

I groan as I force myself out of my cocoon of blankets and shuffle to the door. I open it for him and flop back down on my bed.

I hear the door shut, then the bed dips next to me. He pulls the covers back and gives me a stern look. “I’m done letting you ignore me. I don’t know what is going on, although you’ve been acting weird pretty much since the day we went to the pond.”

My heart starts to race, and I feel like I’m being exposed. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

Donovan shrugs. “I don’t know about that. I know that you’ve been weird, but I have no idea why, so obviously I’ve missed a lot. How long have we been friends?”

“You know how long,” I sigh.

“From the moment you moved to Harriston in sixth grade we’ve been close. I was there for you while you grieved your mother. Whatever is going on, you know that I’ll be there for you. Why are you pushing me away?” he asks.

This churning feeling inside of me reaches a critical mass and spills out. “Because I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me when you find out.”

Donovan reaches out and takes my hand. I know he’s seriously worried now, because while we’re great friends, best friends even, we aren’t physically affectionate. I think he’s only ever hugged me once, and that was the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death. So when he squeezes my hand I know he’s really worried about me without him having to say anything.

“I didn’t think I had to say this out loud, but it seems you’re too dense to figure it out for yourself.”

“Hey,” I interrupt him. “Rude.”

He smiles, his blue eyes crinkle. “You’re my best friend, that means I’m on your side no matter what. If you’re going to tell me that you killed someone and they’re hidden under that pile of clothes in the corner, I’ll go get a shovel and help you take care of it. There’s nothing you can say that will make me think less of you.”

I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t look at him when these words come out of my mouth. “I’ve been…I’m not sure if seeing someone is the right description. We’re not dating either though.”

Donovan lets go of my hand, grabs my shoulders, and shakes me until I open my eyes. “Who could you possibly be involved with that you’ve kept it a secret?”

I exhale a trembling breath. “Charlie Storm,” I whisper.

Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I risk checking out his reaction. He stares at me, with his mouth hanging open.

After what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a few seconds, he blinks and closes his mouth. “He’s what, ten years older than us?”

I nod, still watching him to see if he is disgusted by me. I’m relieved and a little surprised that he’s not judging me. “Yeah, he’s twenty-nine.” I don’t add anything else.

He nods his head a few times as he digests what I’ve said. “Okay, “ he drags out. “I’m a little confused. I mean, I get why you would keep it under wraps, but what has caused you to retreat into this den of sadness?”

“The summer ended,” I say simply.

Donovan raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Taking a fortifying breath, I make an effort to explain. “We agreed when it started, after the day at the pond?—”

---