-1-
Never give anyone permission to make you feel inferior.
Never give anyone permission to make you feel inferior
Never give a shit, that’s a lot easier.
I’m not supposed to cry over a boy.
But I’m doing it anyway.
And it’s not that Phillip was a catch, it’s that he left me standing there feeling like this was all his decision.
It’s what he said to me.
And how he’s right.
I don’t have anyone in this whole god damn state. He’s officially made me the one thing I never wanted to be.
Alone.
I’d cracked the night after the break up and called my old guardian Miss Elsie, but one of her sons or someone picked up and I just hung up. I settled for crying myself to sleep and inventing a stomach bug so I didn’t have to go back to work the next day. All I wanted was a day, but they gave me the week off.
The worst part is I keep finding his things.
I’d felt like I was really sticking it to him when I mailed the Valentine, Birthday and Christmas cards he’d sent me back.
But then I found him everywhere; the headphones, the puppy beanie baby, The Who sweatshirt, the grocery store vending machine ring, the loose Xanax capsules. The four ‘smart shirts” his mother gifted me.
I should just mail it all back, but I don’t want to. I want to see the look in his eyes when I throw it all at him. I want to see him kicking himself for letting me go. He’ll beg for me back, even if it’s just for money or sex or to give him a ride somewhere. I don’t know who he is kidding-- he needs me .
I don’t even bother getting dressed up or fixing my hair to make it look like I’m “winning the break up.” I’m so determined to get there that I just pull on my Eastham sweatshirt and the hideous, but insanely warm Ugg boots I’d been gifted with for graduation and head for my car.
I’m only really doing this because Sev isn’t here. She’s been watching me like a crazy person ever since this happened. Always inviting me out with her dumbass trivia team or to watch films of whatever new favorite director she learned about in class, asking me where I was going all the time even though I’d only go to class and back here. I’d even let her rope me into her Halloween shenanigan if it meant she’d shut up.
I know If Sev were here she’d probably stop me from seeing Phillip but she isn’t here. She’s jet setting to New York City, like going to a bunch of film festivals is really going to make her a better filmmaker. Like being a filmmaker is even a real thing.
When I get to Phillip’s house the site of his mom’s car stops me for a second, but I decide it’s actually better off if she’s here and ring the bell. Before I can move my finger away from the button, Jillian is at the door in a stylish coral sweater set looking at me with startled eyes. Her breath smells like red wine.
“I heard your car pull up,” she says. “I didn’t expect—well, I mean…do you want to come in ?”
I wonder if Phillip actually told her we broke up or if she guessed after me not being around for nearly a week.
“Thank you.” I could give the box of his shit to her and go back home but I want the satisfaction of seeing him look hurt.
She notices the smart shirts neatly folded in my hand and runs her fingers over the silky material.
“Corinne, I’d like you to keep these,” she says. “Really.”
“I can’t--”
“Yes, you can.”
“Thanks,” I force out.
“Phillip’s upstairs. If he is still in bed you are more than welcome to wait here. My shift starts in a few hours.”
“Thanks,” I repeat and head upstairs.
I’d been in this house a few of times, but the way up feels longer. I turn the corner at the spare bedroom where I’d slept last Christmas and come to Phillip’s door which is closed shut. There’s a woodcrafted P nailed to the door that Phillips’s Dad made it in his high school woodshop class after he picked Phillip’s name.
I knock and he doesn’t respond. Thinking he must be asleep I crack open the door and peek in to see he’s been doing the exact opposite of sleeping. He’s just sitting in the corner of the room high. He must think I’m an apparition or something because he doesn’t speak, he just stares right through me.
“I came to give you your stuff,” I say, sliding the box over to him. He doesn’t even look at it.
“You are such a drama queen,” he coughs.
“Yeah, well, I’m just tying up loose strings… Do you have any of my shit ?”
He rolls on his side, reaches under his bed and pulls out a pair of my underwear. They’re bright red and say Naughty Not Nice in glittery white block letters on the ass. I snatch them and put them in my pocket.
“Now get the fuck out,” he says picking up his phone.
His attitude was really pissing me off. I don’t get why he’s acting like he doesn’t care. I came here to see him emotional or upset or something so I know all our time together meant something
“Phillip, I’m so done with this act…did you mean all that awful shit you said ? You at least owe me an apology for that.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” he says.
Like hell.
“Fine.” I say backing out the room. “Then neither do I. I don’t have to do anything for you anymore, including lie. So, I’ll leave you alone ....but first I’m telling your mom you were in jail last week.”
Despite Jillian’s general docile-ness, she has a pretty bad mean streak and can take you on some nasty guilt trips with her verbal abuse. I know Phillip is terrified of disappointing her.
I race down the stairs before Phillip can even stand up and I nearly collide with Jillian at the bottom of the steps.
“I’m sorry I lied to you, Phillip was in jail for using a fraudulent credit card earlier this week,” I tell her quickly.
Phillip comes thundering down after me and Jillian starts ripping into him with questions and tears, but he’s walking away from her which only pisses her off more. He goes to the attached garage and comes back with an aluminum Red Sox bat and starts coming towards me.
“PHILLIP!,” Jillian screams standing in front of him. “LEAVE HER ALONE!,”
He stares daggers into me as he walks around her. He quickly bypasses me with a shove and heads for the front door.
“He’s going to my car,” I realize aloud.
She keeps shouting his name and before he can get to the door, she grabs his arm with both of hers and pulls him down on to the couch. It only works so well because he is so high.
“You bitch…bitch,” he keeps muttering to me.
“Shut the hell up, don’t you dare talk to her like that. You’re lucky I let you live in my god damn house. Why are you doing this to me ? Why do you do this to me ?” Jillian yells at him and she’s crying.
Jillian takes the bat from him and turns to look at me, wiping her eyes.
“Corrine I think you need to go and maybe give Phillip some time.” She says in a pretend calm voice. “I just...I really can’t have you here causing trouble.”
“I-I-I’m so sorry,” I say. “I just wanted to tell the truth—“
“It’s okay, but you need to go.” She says extra-sweetly. The voice she uses at her job to the customers she hates.
She’s banning me and it hits me in my stomach. I wanted a reaction, but not this.
I turn and head to the door without another word or look, all I hear is the sound of her crying.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.FUCK.
That was all my fault.
Tears are sliding down my face by the time I get to my car and drive out of the neighborhood for what will probably be the last time.
Once I’m back on campus and my dorm is in sight it all feels like a dream or something that happened a long time ago. I really pissed him off. We really are over. I need to get away from all this shit.
I text Morris to see if I can take someone’s shift, I expect lots of responses since no one likes working Saturdays. But I need a distraction. Not to mention the money
I turn to pull into my space in front the dorm, but I can’t.
It’s taken.
By a pistachio green Prius.
I had been intentionally ignoring Jonah since the break up because I didn’t want Phillip to get the wrong idea in case our breakup blew over.
Plus, being around Mr. I’m So Mild Mannered and Have My Life Together Hyphen Probably Iron My T-Shirts felt unbearable when the only stable relationship in my life blew to hell.
I didn’t think Jonah would notice my absence. It’s not like he needed me, I was mostly a coincidental third wheel in this whole ghostbusting fiasco.
Putting my best Hell- No- I -Wasn’t- Crying face on, I walk over to his car to tell him to move. But the vehicle is empty.
“Corinne!,” I hear Abigail squeal. “We were just looking for you inside!,”
I turn to see she and Jonah walking out of the dorm, Abigail looks slightly concerned and Jonah offers me a wave.
“You’re in my space,” I greet him when we are feet apart.
“Your space ?,” he questions. “You’re a freshman, how did you get e a car permit ?”
“How'd you get a car permit ?,” I retort
“Um, you’ve met my Dad. Special circumstances,” he responds
“Well...me too,” I smile. “Special circumstances. Now give me my space.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” he replies and ducks into his driver’s seat.
Abigail gets in the car too and I get the sneaking suspicion they are talking about me.
Once we’ve switched spaces, I try and sneak away back into the dorm, but Jonah is honking at me.
“Like what you see ?,” I say walking up to his window. I want him to laugh or roll his eyes at something I say, but he just ignores it.
“It’s come to my attention you’ve only lived in Massachusetts for 4 months,” Jonah says with a devious smile.
I look over at Abigail who is grinning.
“Yeah, so ?,” I ask.
“So, you’ve probably never had Azuki Cream?”
“What the hell is that ? One of those weird sex Japanese cartoon things?”
That gets me a shocked chuckle.
“No. Come on. Get in and I’ll show you.”
“ I don’t know. I mean you’re practically a stranger,” I tease just to give him a hard time.
“There might be chocolate involved,” he adds.
“So now I’m taking candy from strangers?,”
“Come on, they’re going to sell out,” he says starting the car.
I sigh and get into the backseat.
-2-
His car is so quiet and he’s playing a song that isn’t even in English. And it's on an actual CD. I want to hate it more than I do. I don’t say much on the ride.
We get on the expressway and drive 15 miles outside of Waverly and into the true metro Boston area. I want to ask him to turn around, because I didn’t agree to go this far out, but I don’t. I think the Phillip drama has beat down all my fight for the day. Jonah turns off the freeway and on to a little street that reminds me of Greenwich Village with it’s narrow cobblestone streets and rows of little boutiques and shops.
I catch his eye when he leans over backwards to back into a tiny parallel space and it makes me feel…self-conscious. He smiles reassuringly. Is the vulnerability just written all of my face today?
“I expect you to open my door,” I tell him when the car shuts off.
He doesn’t have a comeback for this, but does come around and make a grand gesture of opening my door all the way and even holds out his hand out to help me out.
I follow him silently , with Abigail behind us, to a little shop on the corner called Japonaise Bakery and Patisserie . The first thing I notice is the huge crowd. The second is the smell. It smells like heaven inside; sugar and yeast and there is a warmth radiating from the ovens in the back. It’s a small shop and Jonah suggests Abigail and I find a seat while he gets in line.
I stalk a table with an older couple until they get the finish the last of their espresso shots and leave. As soon as Abigail and I sit down, I take out my phone and put it to my ear so I don’t look like I’m talking to myself.
“What is this about ? What did you tell him ?,” I ask and then I have a horrible realization. “Oh, God is this a date or something ?”
“No!” She says, but it doesn’t sound innocent. “It’s nothing. I think your roommate may have mentioned you needed to get out.”
“I can’t believe she said that--”
“It wasn’t like that,” Abigail says. “I think she was just worried about you and she seemed guilty about leaving you.”
I felt embarrassed, I didn’t need people pitying me. Before I can wallow too much, Jonah comes to our table with what looks like two rounded croissants with cream coming out the top. They remind me of the the cream puffs we used to get at the Staten Island bakeries.
“What is this again ?,” I ask picking it up and inspecting it. It’s warm and smells incredible.
“Just try it,” He says. There’s a playful light in his every-color-under-the-sun-eyes.
I suck on my cheek, but my overactive sweet tooth and the fact that I didn’t eat breakfast this morning wins over. I bit into the crust and I get a burst of sweet cream and something else, something mushy and mildly sweet the leaves an almost chocolate like flavor on my tongue.
I look into the cream puff to see a thick layer of some kind of thick, pasty red filling underneath the cream.
“What is this red stuff ?,” I ask, licking the cream off my fingers.
“That’s the azuki,” he says. “It’s a kind of bean, you don't like it ? ”
He’s cutting his cream puff in half , while I start nibbling on the edge of mine.
“No, it’s good. Just different.” I admit. “God, I can’t believe I spent my entire life outside New York City and have never even heard of these.”
“Boston has some pretty cool stuff too,” he smiles
“Oh, besides your second rate baseball team what else ?,” I challenge.
I was hoping this would lead to some baseball talk, which I am somewhat fluent in thanks to one of my foster brothers. But I forget who I’m with, so of course it doesn’t go there.
“Well, Boston has the best poets for one.” Abigail chimes in. “Plath, Anne Sexton, Robert Lowell, um--”
“Robert Frost,” she and Jonah say in unison.
“God, you fucking art majors--,” I laugh
“Hey, I’m not an art major,” Jonah says, putting his arms up in mock offense.
This seems to surprise Abigail too, because she looks at him with the same surprised expression I am.
“You’re not ?,” I ask. “Because I’ve seen you with a violin case, I mean you ride a bike around campus--”
“ So ? I’ve been Interdisciplinary Studies since day one. I only had my violin for an extracurricular class.,” he shrugs.
“But why ?,” Abigail asks. “You’re amazing. You should totally hear him, Corinne.”
He just shrugs it off.
“I’m just trained, I'm not that good or anything. Plus, it’s just harder at the college level.” He looks at me. “What about you ? What’s your major anyway ?”
“Accounting.” I reply with a shrug
“Now the art major jokes make sense,” he says
“ Don’t get me wrong. I love art and music and all that crap, but I have a plan. I’m going to get my master’s and my CPA and work in like a Fortune 500 or something one day. Then I’m going to take it over.”
It’s weird we are just now having this conversation, majors are usually all I know about most of the people I meet at Eastham.
“Wish I had a plan like you. I have no idea what I should do after college.”
“Well, I need to have some kind of plan,” I stumble out before I catch myself. It feels like too much.
“ Because you were in the foster system ?,” he asks
That completely unbalances me.
And how does he even know about that ? Sev has some nerve.
I’ve been quiet too long, because he starts to say something that sounds like an apology, but I interrupt.
“Who told you that ?,” I ask. “That I was--”
“I did.” Abigail speaks up. “When we were switching parking spaces. Sorry, you told me last week at your dorm. I’m sorry I didn’t know it was a secret—I’m so sorry—“
“No big deal. It’s not a secret,” I lie.
I’m not sure if either of them believe me.
So, that’s it. This is a pity date. Poor foster girl.
“So…is that why you live in the International dorm ?,” Jonah asks.
“Told you. Special circumstances. I don’t really have a place to go during breaks and stuff.”
“Do you have anyone back in New York?,” he asks.
I shrug. The simple answer is no.
“I've got friends, but they don't have much themselves. I mean, I had a guardian there. Her name was Miss Elsie, she was this Episcopalian priest who took in people who were about to age out. She was pretty ancient herself though.”
"Is that why you wear that cross ?," he questions with a raised eyebrow
I frown at him. When did he see that ?
"Among other reasons," I say. A girl like me has to believe she isn't in this shitty world alone. "“Anyway, Ms. Elsie's douchebag son made her move in with his family in Montana when I left for Eastham. Her son thought us foster kids were all taking advantage of her money and kindness, but it wasn’t like that. Not all the time. Not for me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Abigail says again and she’s rubbing my arm.
“Don’t be. It’s always just been my life…I’m one of the lucky ones,” I tell them, even though I’ve never been quite sure if I believe that.
"Well, you know you can come to my house if you have nowhere to go around Thanksgiving," he offers.
"Oh, thanks but I couldn't." I spit out without even thinking.
“Corrine--,” Jonah starts in a consoling tone, but his phone starts pinging.
“I better not see myself in one of your Dad’s books,” I joke, watching him responds to a text rapidly.
“We have to go,” Jonah says suddenly. “Sorry, I have to go pick up someone. I'm kind of playing chauffeur for --”
“That’s fine. Thanks for--”
“Do you want to tag along ?”
It’s another pity invitation, but somehow going back to the dorm seem like the worse way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
“Sure.”
***
-3-
-3-
When we get back into Waverly I’m on edge for two reasons; 1. I may have said too much and 2. We’re at a hospital.
I follow behind Jonah and as we reach the doors, Abigail grabs my hand. It’s the first time we’ve touched skin to skin. Her hands feel slightly cold and she’s shaking.
“Are you okay ?,” I whisper.
“I don’t like hospitals,” she tells me.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t go inside.”
She stands and stares at the sleek automatic doors.
“No, I want to. I’m just being stupid,” she says and walks ahead, her curls blowing in the wind.
I file away what she says about hospitals for later. Maybe she died in this hospital or used to work in a hospital or something.
I’ve never spent much time in hospitals. I see a gurney go by and it takes all my self control not to see what the person strapped to it looks like. Groups of doctors and nurses briskly walk around us. I feel like I’m in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy with less hotter people.
We go to pediatric care where the ward is decorated with plastic pumpkins, spider webs and Halloween colored streamers. Just past the nurses station I see a small huddle of nurses, doctors and kids. I can hear the sounds of piano keys, followed by the squeal and laughter of delighted kids.
Jonah seems intent on getting the attention of an older blonde woman in a mint green suit on her iPad , while Abigail passes through the crowd to the front. I move to the side of the crowd until I find a gap I can fit into to get a view of what they are all looking at.
Matthew Saylor is sitting in front of a keyboard looking like an album cover with slicked back parted auburn hair, a pinstripe vest and reflective silver aviators. He’s playing a Coldplay song and sitting next to him is a preteen girl on an IV who looks like she’s experiencing happy for the first time or something. She keeps bursting into random giggles and then quickly tries to play it cool.
When he finishes the last notes she is crying, but also smiling.
“…Thank you, that is so cool,” she sputter nervously and he puts his arm around her and they hug. He’s whispering something in her ear and she is turning every shade of red.
I know of Matthew Saylor because he sometimes pops up in Eastham e-mails as a rising star alumnus …not to mention Sev flipped out telling me how he was going to be at the lame open mic night she was planning.
“All right, well we have to thank Mr. Saylor one more time for spending the day with us, but it appears his ride is here,” The woman in the green suit says.
The kids in the crowd make a disappointed noise, but I watch as Matthew stops and takes pictures with all of them and even spends the next 45minutes playing a few chords of any song they request. Jonah comes over and whispers and apology to me, but I’m kind of amused, because what the hell.
Once he says his last goodbye to everyone Matthew reaches out and puts his arm comfortably around Jonah’s shoulder and I follow them into the hall. He has the keyboard strapped to his back and carries a violin with his free arm.
“Matty, this is my friend, Corinne,” Jonah introduces us, throwing Matthew’s arm off of his shoulder.
“Hi,” I say, stepping up so we are next to each other. For some reason I stick out my hand.
Walking this close to Matthew I can see the metallic orange covering on the inner ear part of the hearing aid--it has a black music notes etched into it. Matthew mutters something to me, but I honestly can’t understand over his speech impediment and the noisy hospital doesn’t help. I turn to Abigail to see if she caught it, but she’s gone.
“Abigail,” I say suddenly when I realize she isn’t with us.
“Huh?,” Matthew asks.
“Nothing,” Jonah says and does a quick 360 look before whispering. “You know how she leaves sometimes.”
“What ?,” Matthew asks.
“Nothing,” Jonah says to him. “Get in the backseat Matty I’m dropping you off first.”
With the kind of precision I imagine comes with practice, Matthew stuffs the violin and keyboard into the tiny Prius trunk and gets in the backseat. When we get in the car Jonah starts blasting the radio, but I can hear Matthew shouting a question over the music and he keeps tapping my shoulder from the backseat. Jonah turns the radio up louder and I feel like I’m going deaf too, so I turn it off.
“So, do you go to Eastham, Corrine ?,” Matthew shouts at me over the music.
I kind of love his accent, it's not the posh British accent you hear on television, it's more laid back.
“You don’t have to answer anything he asks,” Jonah tells me like I don’t know that.
“ Yeah, I’m a freshman too--”
“Are you from out of state ?”
“I lived in New York--”
“My aunt lives in Queens,” He interrupts. “But, she’s related to my stepmum, so I don’t know her that well. She’s kind of insanse, she’s a hoarder and collects fucking everything. I think the state had to get involved, but it’s a disease so it’s not her fault. Where is your family from ?”
“I lived mainly in Long Island,” I say, sidestepping the family question, I’ve done it for years.
“Sorry about him,” Jonah mouths to me. “He never shuts up sometimes.”
“What ? Hey, what’s your major ?” he asks.
“Accounting-,”
“Hmm. Okay. Hey, Jonah, I didn’t know we had that. Is that business ? I bet that’s hard, oh listen don’t go to graduate school cause--”
Jonah turns the music back up before I can tell Matthew about my future plan. We drive to a part of Waverly I’ve never seen, it looks like the country and you can see the outline of the Cape in the far distance. Jonah pulls into a cul-de-sac and up to a light purple house.
He swerves into the driveway and I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.
“Bye, Matty--” Jonah says
I’m kind of bittersweet as I read the text message.
“Stay.” Matthew says. “ Let’s hang out. You too, Corrine.”
“We can’t we have stuff to do today--” Jonah starts
“No we don’t,” I say, smiling apologetically. “I just got a text from The Thinking Cup. I got a shift today. Sorry.”
Jonah seems disappointed, but he doesn’t say it.
“Well, see you around Corrine,” Matthew says, getting out of the car.
We watch as he makes his way up to the front steps of the duplex and opens the door.
“Dorm or Thinking Cup ?,” he asks backing out.
“Dorm. I’m wearing Uggs for heaven’s sake .”
“Man, I was really hoping we could get to the bottom of this whole Abigail thing today.” Jonah says driving back towards town.
“What’s the rush ?I mean so what if we find out what happens to her ? What do you think will happen after ?”
He shrugs
“I don’t know." He sighs. " I mean I think she's great, I wish she was alive and we could be real friends, but...I don't know. She did something kind of strange this morning. We were in my car and she just freaked out and I don't think I could ask her why, so we need to get to the bottom of this.”
“Yeah, I know.” I agree, thinking about her not wanting to go to the hospital.
“I had a thought,” he says quietly. “You know, maybe we should be doing this without her--”
“No way.” I interrupt. The idea really pisses me off. “That wouldn’t be fair. It’s her life. Or death or whatever”
“What if it’s bad ?,” he says. “She could have been murdered. What if something awful happened ?”
“Still her life.” I say. “She deserves to know how she died.”
He nods his head and starts driving slower.
“So, what happens, anyway?,” he asks. “After death ?”
“You’re asking me ?,” I nearly laugh. “Did you miss the manic pixie dead girl who recites Sylvia Plath ?,”
“Well, didn’t your guardian, the priest, tell you things ? Does her religion explain any of this ?”
I didn't know what kind of answer he was looking for. Or if he was even looking for one.
“We didn’t really talk about that. I try not to think about that stuff,” I lie.
The truth was I had thought a lot about death.
Not my own, but the parents I never knew and Phillip’s. Phillip’s death was always the most real to me because he was always so close to the edge.
Shit, Phillip. I wonder what he is doing, I wonder when I’ll be allowed to at least talk to him without it being weird. I can’t believe I haven’t thought about him since our fight. Four whole hours. That’s a record.
We’re back at my dorm, I suddenly have no idea how to end this.
“Thanks, for today.” I say getting out.
“We didn’t do anything,” he smiles
“Sometimes that’s nice.” I say closing the door. “I mean I love Sev and stuff, but it’s nice to be with someone different. It’s such a shock being at Eastham sometimes…I feel like I still don’t really know anyone.”
“I get that. Most of my high school friends went out of state. I guess I’m lucky I still have my family and Matt around...so, um, anyway, let's pick this up tomorrow ?,” he adds, realizing this is going into unchartered territory.
“Tomorrow.” I agree.
---
A/N
So, what do you do when you want chapter 7 in Jonah's POV, but you still have to put something from Corinne's POV in chapter 6 ? You turn your characters into tourist. I promise we get to the archives in the next chapter.