Page 72 of Loving Lies (Granton University 3)

I went to my friend Sean’s place that night. He lived close, and we’d grown up together. His mom drank too much and barely kept a job, but she was cool with me sticking around until we graduated from high school.

After focusing all my attention on football, I got a scholarship into Granton. Sean’s granddad had left him some money when he died, so he came along too and was able to rent an apartment off campus, but it was cheaper for me to stay in the dorms with my scholarship, so I went that route.

He was my best friend—only friend—since kindergarten. I’ve never been good at making friends. I always kept to myself on the football team, which no doubt made the other players think I was looking down on them. I don’t know really. All I know is I’ve never been able to handle stupid people who do or say stupid things, and that’s gotten me called a bigot more than once. But I never thought of myself as someone who hated groups of people in general. I just didn’t care for some certain individuals. Though I have recently come to learn I’ve misjudged actors on the whole! They’re really not as annoying as I used to think. Anyway…

Until this year, I’d never thought of myself as a bully either. I was too much of a loner to get involved in anyone else’s business.

Einstein changed all that.

The first day of my junior year when his parents moved him into my dorm room with me, I was actually ready to be his defender. His mother was a hateful, nasty bitch. She kept saying things like, “I can’t believe you came from my loins; you’re such a freak.” And his father didn’t jump in to defend him. They were only in our room a couple minutes, dumping off all his shit before they left, but it was enough to tell me he’d probably had about as miserable a childhood as I had.

So, once they were gone, I tried to make a joke of it to make him feel better, to let him know he wasn’t alone and that I understood. I said something along the lines of, “Don’t you just wish you could exchange your parents sometimes?”

But I guess that was the wrong thing to say. He turned around and glared at me. I don’t think he liked me knowing how miserable he was or how he was treated by his own family.

He already knew who I was. He must’ve researched me before moving in, because he went off, mentioning things about my life and my parents, my ball playing. He knew everything.

I probably should’ve brushed it off and not let his words affect me. But whenever someone pushes me, I push back. I can’t seem to help it. Getting up in Einstein’s face, I threatened him and told him to stay out of my business.

After that, things went from bad to worse

. I’d catch him in my things and when I’d chase him away, he’d run out of the room, so I’d chase him down the hall, threatening to kick his ass. A couple times, I tripped him and he fell down, but I never actually physically touched him. I hope you know that. I never hit him.

He’d collected an entire crowd of haters, though. After my first couple of times chasing him from our room, other people would join in and help me. But they tormented worse than I ever did, calling him names and throwing things at him. The few times people actually caught him, I’d just turn and walk away, letting them deal with it.

Sometimes I have nightmares about my childhood. And one night, I had a dream about my mom getting beat. It was from back when I was young and too scared to try to help her. I was hiding under the bed and watching her cry and beg him to stop. I woke up calling for her. Einstein was standing over my bed, watching me. Totally creeped me out. I threw my pillow at him and told him to leave me alone.

The next evening, I came in from football practice to find jars of baby food and pacifiers and all sorts of infant crap strung all over my bed. Smirking at me from his side of the room, he told me he’d gotten those for me since I’d been missing my mommy. I grabbed up a handful of the stuff and chased him out of the room, throwing them at him.

He’d always watch me changing clothes, too, and once I caught him opening the bathroom door to peek at me in the shower. That shit creeped me out the most. I know I shouldn’t have tortured him. I should’ve recognized that he had problems and needed help instead of me chasing him off and cussing him out, but I just couldn’t stand him.

Sean liked to laugh about it and tease me that Einstein was going to steal his spot of being my best friend. But damn, some nights, I’d get so tired of his shit I’d go bunk on Sean’s couch. I kept some stuff over there so Einstein wouldn’t get into it. And Sean let me keep my gun there too, since there’s a no-firearms-on-campus policy. That was fine by me. But I do like to hunt, and I compete in some shooting competitions.

The last one I entered, I didn’t get the gun back to Sean’s house that night. He was a photography major and had been helping the drama department get ready for their play, so he was gone a lot. I couldn’t think of any reason anyone would need to look under the backseat of my truck, so I kept it locked in its case there until I went to Sean’s again. And then I just kind of forgot about it.

I must’ve mentioned it to Sean in some phone conversation I had with him that I needed to get it back to his apartment. That’s the only reason I can imagine Einstein even knew I had it. It wasn’t even loaded. I have no clue where he found bullets for it.

The day it happened, Sean called me up and asked me to meet him down at the burger joint in the food district, saying he needed to tell me something important. They sold my favorite hamburgers there, so I went. I remember it being cold; I complained because we had to sit outside so he could smoke.

His big news was that he was gay. That completely blind-sided me. I felt betrayed because he’d waited so long to tell me. I seriously hadn’t had a clue. It made me wonder what else he’d never told me, what secrets he didn’t trust me to keep. And it hurt that he’d been afraid I’d feel any differently about him. But despite all that going on inside me, I knew I had to step up and convince him he could be whatever he wanted to be without losing me. That is one thing I actually did right. I’m glad I supported him in and told him he was still my best friend no matter what. Because ten minutes later, he was dead.

At least he died knowing I was still his friend. That’s something Sam has helped me deal with the most. We’ve also touched on my parent issues. But we’ve also talked about you. You’re the hardest to talk about.

I still think about those days you visited me in the hospital. They’re the happiest memories I have. You talked to me and confided in me. I just wish I had done the same in return and let you see the real me.

My biggest regret is that I never really got to confide in you and that you probably hate me right now. It’s a daily struggle not to go to Grammar Hall and just beg you to forgive me. I actually did a few months ago. I limped to your dormitory and waited outside for you. I knew you probably wouldn’t give me the time of day, but I just…I had to see you. I had to do something. I was going crazy.

God, I should’ve stayed away. When I saw you with that other guy, I don’t know, something inside me just broke. I had thought getting over Sean’s death would be impossible, but this is almost worse. Because you’re still out there somewhere. You’re happy. With him. That just feel wrongs to me.

I keep telling myself I should be happy for you because you’re happy now. This is exactly what I wanted for you. You’ve moved on. Not that there was anything for you to move on from. Being my girlfriend wasn’t real for you. But it was real for me, and I’m not happy. I feel fucking gutted, and I hate him. He has what I want. He has you, and if he doesn’t treat you like a queen and worship the ground you walk on, I may have to kill him. Not really, but maybe. Damn it, I really do want you to be happy. That’s true. I wish it could be me with you, but I know that’s not possible. So, I…fuck. I think I’m getting emotional. And Sam just ate the last piece of pizza. I don’t think I can write any more.

I love you. I want you to have a good life. I want you to find reasons to laugh and be silly and carry on, because there IS good left in this shitty world. You’re proof of it.

Forever yours, Jonah.

Chapter Twenty-One

A SOB BURST FROM TESS’S LUNGS as she read the last word. She flipped over the last page, hoping to find more on the back. But that was all he’d written.

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