Page 81 of Green
21
Theo
Visiting Cleveland was never on my bucket list, even after I’d met Gemma, but I was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked it when we got there. I loved seeing her parents and the house she grew up in, how warm and cozy it is, and it was fascinating and hilarious to me that Gemma’s bedroom—which was unchanged from when she lived there—had absolutely no style. Whatsoever. None. It looked like every generic teenage girl’s room I’d ever seen on screen, complete with framedTwilightposter and a picture of Zac Efron that was torn from a magazine and pinned to the corkboard over her white desk.
“Now, what does this bedroom tell us about the character?” I said, as I picked up a plain white music box and got smacked in the back of the head with a pillow.
“It tells us that she would one day live in a house with some asshole in L.A.”
“And?”
She plopped down onto her double bed with a floral comforter. “And that I never really felt like I belonged here, so I tried to make it look like I fit in.”
I put down the music box and sat next to her. “Are you saying you actually designed this room to look generic?”
“Maybe. I don’t think I did it consciously, but I guess I just…I always felt bigger than my life here, so I tried to make myself smaller.”
By dating a guy who didn’t deserve you.
“I’ve never said that out loud before.”
I understood. This room was where she first started designing sets, and secretly designing her future. It made me sad to think that she felt she had to redesign herself to fit some cookie cutter image when she was younger, but happy to be a part of the life she wanted for herself once she’d started becoming who she wanted to be.
“It’s weird, being here with you.” She rested her head against my shoulder.
“I love being here with you.”
“I feel self-conscious.”
“I wish I could show you the house where I grew up.” My voice cracked. That was weird. All of a sudden, I was thinking about homes and childhoods and future homes and future children. Was she thinking about those things too?
“Your Mom lives in a condo now?”
“Yeah. In a suburb of Toronto.”
I was getting all introverted, and Gemma knew better than to ask any more questions. That’s why she was my best friend. She just lay her head against my shoulder until her Mom asked if we wanted coffee and apple crumble. We did. We definitely did.
When Gemma was in the bathroom, I was alone in the cozy kitchen with her parents, and I understood how it was possible for her and I to have such comfortable silences together. Her parents were the same way. It never felt awkward with them, they never felt the need to make small talk just for the sake of filling the void. I liked them. I wanted to be a part of this family. Gemma and I had given them a joint anniversary gift—pearl-colored sateen sheets—pearl being the traditional gift for a thirtieth wedding anniversary.
It was the most couple-y thing we had done so far, to me, and I liked it.
Gemma’s father handed me a bright yellow happy face mug of coffee and said, in a hushed tone: “Thanks for taking care of our girl out there in La La Land, Theo.”
“Hah. It would be my pleasure, but I think she pretty much takes care of herself.”
He patted me on the back, smiling, and Gemma’s mother looked up from the apple crumble to give me an exaggerated wink.
I want to be a part of this family.
“So, tell us about the techno biz,” he said, pulling out a kitchen table chair. “Gemma said you came out with some fancy new exercise clothes…”
After that, Gemma took me on a little tour of the neighborhood, including her old high school. Although I’m sure I would have liked any town or neighborhood that she gave me a tour of, I have to admit that it was impossible not to think about how she had spent all that time growing up with Andrew there. As much as I knew that Gemma was mine—Cleveland was Andrew’s. I was in his territory, and not looking forward to seeing him at the party that night. I wouldn’t have missed it, but I’d had a bad feeling about it ever since Gemma had brought it up.
* * *
The suburban country club was exactly how I’d pictured it would be—traditional manicured mansion on a golf course—but the banquet was a bigger affair than I had expected. There must have been a hundred and fifty guests. Andrew was a perfect loafer-and-pastel-button-down-shirt-wearing gentleman when he greeted us as we arrived, in front of Gemma’s parents and his parents.
“Theo! Good to see you, welcome.”
