Page 48 of Mr. Broody

“Can I ask you a question?” Her head tilts.

I’ve heard that tone and hesitation before. A hundred bucks says it has to do with Henry.

“Sure.” I put on what I hope looks like a genuine smile.

“Someone found a picture and…” She pulls it out of her pocket and places it on my desk. “Is this you?”

I pick up the picture and lean back in my seat. It’s Henry and me when we were in the seventh grade. I’m standing on the stage behind a podium. My hands are out at my sides, and I’m talking to the room. I look so sure and confident in myself. Henry sits in the chair behind me, along with two other students. He was growing out his hair then, the blond strands covering his right eye, but he was focused on me, and he was smiling. I always loved that smile.

“It’s you, right? And Henry Hensley?” Joyce asks.

I nod, unable to take my eyes off the picture. “It was the student election, right?”

“We’re pretty sure it was. You know how rumors can fill all the nooks and crannies of a private school. Any school probably. So, someone did a little digging and found this. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No. It was just a really long time ago.” It feels like a lifetime has passed since then, and something inside me feels disappointed when I look at that younger version of myself. Because I’m not who she thought I’d be.

All my mom’s words flood through my brain, and I can see the truth of them now. God, she’s right. I lost myself because I was so afraid to lose Henry. Every time he was available, I made myself available no matter the consequences because I justified it by thinking he was so busy that I had to take what time I could with him, and I could get to what I wanted later. But later never really came. No wonder I’m still lost after all these years.

“You can have it,” she says.

I’m not sure if Joyce sees something in my expression, but I want to keep the picture as a reminder of who I was and who I need to be. My fingers run over Henry’s face, and my heart pricks. It’s time I do a little self-discovery.

Later that day, I return to my desk after walking the kids out to their parents. I sit down to go over the lesson plans for the next day, but before I can, I find a red envelope on my desk. I pick it up and open it. It’s an invitation to Bodhi’s birthday party.

The glimmer of excitement I feel should concern me I suppose. I really shouldn’t go, but how do I not?

Just when I think I’m ready to figure out who I am with or without Henry, I get dragged back into his world. He was my best friend once, and now he’s decided to invite me to his son’s birthday party. Is it a peace offering? An olive branch to find some new normal between us? That’s the problem. I have no idea, but I need to decide which way I want this to go.

Twenty-One

Henry

“So?” Conor sits in the aisle seat across from me on the team’s plane. “Let’s hear it.”

I pick up my phone and roll my eyes. “We’re not doing this.”

“You’re not going to live up to your end of the deal? That’s not right,” Conor says.

“Then you’ll have to do a punishment,” Tweetie says, leaning forward to see past Conor. “And come on, man, you can’t let your word mean shit. What would Bodhi think?”

I glance at Rowan, and he shrugs like he agrees.

“Fine. You want to know what happened?” I ask.

“Duh,” Conor says.

“I brought Jade up to my condo to tell her why I walked out of her hotel room three years ago without an explanation.”

“Well shit, if I had a penny for every time a woman asked me why I left, I’d be?—”

“Just as rich as you are now, Tweetie,” I deadpan.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the women know the score when they go to a hotel room with you.” Conor shrugs. When Tweetie looks offended, he adds, “Sorry, man, but it’s the truth.”

Tweetie chews on the inside of his cheek and stares into his lap. “Well, this isn’t about me, it’s about Henry.”

“That’s right.” Conor holds up his hand with his fingers spread, reminding me I couldn’t get one shot past him this morning.

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