Page 43 of My (Not So) Perfect Plan

The rest of the day I’m thinking about how I am going to work this out. Dad isn’t going to like it, but I don’t really care. I’ve asked him for precious little in the last four years. I don’t think it’s too much to expect him to help me out, but I might need mom on my side as back up.

I meet Claire in the library as usual. As usual, I pause outside of the library doors to watch her as she sits at the table, biting her lip as she works on her homework, her eyebrows screwed up in concentration. I steel myself off to be the unfeeling tutor she’s come to expect for the next hour. I hate what we’ve become. I hate that that’s the only way we can be. I don’t want to be friends, but I don’t know how to get past the wall that I’ve put between us, as much for my own safety as, apparently, for hers. It’s better this way, I remind myself again.

I walk in and she looks up. A smile creases her mouth before she remembers herself and looks down at her books. I don’t react to anything and slide my back pack down on the desk.

I slump down in the chair next to her and point to the trig book she has out. “How did that quiz go today?”

Her smile is huge and genuine this time. She proudly slides a piece of paper across to me, a big 89% circled along with the words ‘Keep It Up!’ at the top in red pen.

“Good.” Inside I want to whoop and high five her, but instead I slide the paper across to her like it’s no big deal. It’s a big deal. If we were dating, I would want to take her out to celebrate.

Her face falls for a moment and my heart twists. I ignore that too because it’s not like I created this stupid situation. This is whatshewants.

Her smile returns and she looks over at me. She takes a deep breath and then hesitantly says, “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know? That grade, that’s all you. Thank you. Seriously.”

I almost crack a smile, but can’t bring myself to do it because I’m so frustrated and angry and annoyed at the situation. I’m not good enough to be her boyfriend because I interfere with her attaining the American dream, but I’m good enough to help her in the finer points of trigonometry. Whatever.

Apparently my face gives away some of my anger because she says, “Evan? Did I say something wrong?”

I clear my throat, shoving the negative thoughts away. “Let’s just work on today’s assignments, okay?”

We go over the problems and I explain to her the parts she’s struggling with. While she works through some of the problems on her own, I pull out some of my own homework and attempt to wade through it. I also text my mom that I want to have dinner with her tonight.

My phone dings, showing me I have a notification. I open the screen without picking the phone up.

M: What’s so important about us having dinner tonight?

I snort. Time to butter her up if she’s going to help me convince dad to do what I need.

ME: I love having dinner with you. Isn’t that enough? ;)

M: Okay. Let’s do Italian. Rosaretti’s?

ME: Sure. 6pm tonight? Do you want me to pick you up?

M: No, I’ll meet you there. No biggie.

ME: K.

I lock my phone again. When I raise my head, Claire jerks like she just turned away. Was she reading my messages? I can tell she’s trying not to be mad, but the tips of her ears are turning red and she’s pressing down so hard with her pencil I fully expect the lead to break off. I smile to myself because I realize what my conversation with my mom could look like. She was jealous. I could use this.

Later that night, I meet my mom at the small Italian restaurant we’ve come to become regular diners at. It’s not a fancy place, but their food is so good, it doesn’t matter. Each of the booths offer more privacy than you get at just about any chain restaurant, so it’s perfect for discussing what could easily become one of the most embarrassing conversations of my life. I figure, if I am going to be ripping off the band-aid and telling mom everything, I need to have something pleasant as a distraction.

We order and settle down with our waters.

“Okay, Evan, I’m here. What did you need to talk about?”

“Claire.”

Mom’s eyes grow huge in her head. “I thought you two were over and done with.”

I laugh and run a hand through my hair. “Um… I don’t think I could ever just be over and done with her.”

Mom purses her lips studying me. She knows if I am talking to her about it, it’s serious.

“Are you in love with her?”

I swallow and think for a minute, closing my eyes, and trying hard to be honest with myself. I really like Claire. Shemakes me feel invincible. But more than that, I want her to fulfill all those hopes and dreams she had of a better future. I’m only a senior in high school. I have a whole future ahead of me, but the thought of Claire not being a part of that future leaves me with a cold, dark knot in my stomach. I see myself having children with her, taking vacations with her, growing old and gray with her. A future where she is mine. And I am hers. I just have to convince her that an ‘us’ is possible. Maybe we are all fools in love. Or maybe I am obsessed. Either way, all I can do was try.

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