The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

To tell you the truth, dealing with my dad has actually taught me a valuable lesson. It's been a couple days since our confrontation at the garage, and a couple days that I've stayed under trying to figure out how to hide a broken heart. I can't, that's the shitty answer I've come up with, and since it can't be hid I guess that means I have to deal with it. That's been the hardest part, forcing myself to stand up when I'm still the same coward I've always been, but I know I can't keep letting my issues be a burden to the people I care about. I owe it to Jonah—to Bill, to Maddy—they still need me to carry the weight of the world, so I sit here quietly in the library as I wait, checking my phone fanatically to see if my fiancé has texted me back since this morning. He hasn't.
I imagine he's right where I left him, hunkered down in his dorm with Grace, putting the final touches on a project that might change everything for the both of us. Even though it's not totally fair, I try to pretend like I don't care. I try to pretend like I'd be happy for him, or that I'm happy he gets to spend the day with his best friend when he didn't want me around, but who am I kidding? Maybe it would be easier if he would at least text back, I mean, I told him I'm going to see Bill in the hospital today, I thought he might have something to say about that.
It's weird enough, my uncle actually asking me to come, so I've been extra cautious. Again I've got that feeling, the same one I had before I proposed to Jonah, where I can't shake this thought that something big is coming that will change everything. It's terrifying, but luckily I'll always be able to mold myself into what people need me to be, and I get the sense that Bill needs me to be brave. So I'll try, and maybe if I fake it long enough it'll stick. More than Bill though, there's someone else I have to muster up that false bravery to face, and that time finally comes when I glance up from my phone to see Maddy standing there.
"You can sit if you want." I say, as stupid as ever when I'm around her. She had sounded a little surprised when I called her this morning, I don't blame her for being hesitant to agree to this. I don't blame her for still having reservations when she doesn't immediately react. "I'm happy to see you."
"Are you? Because if so, someone should tell your face." There's a familiar bite to her response when she finally pulls out the chair across the table to sit. She's an anomaly, an amalgamation of things. Sitting in front of me I see the bitchy head cheerleader and the girl who fell from grace. She's a girl in search of answers, and one still testing the tepid waters of a new and confusing friendship.
"It's not you, there's just a lot going on. Bill's in the hospital, and I'm supposed to go visit him in a little bit." I give her a grain of the truth, hoping I'll earn some favor. That's the kind of thing friends would share anyway, right?
"That really sucks, I'm sorry." Even that she offers up reluctantly, as if it's hard for her to feel anything right now besides that reluctance. I know her a little too well though, and while people have historically been quick to peg her as shallow, or rude, or generally unfeeling, I've seen the deep sympathy she is capable of. More than capable, she's prone to it, which is why I'm not at all surprised that despite our grievance, she still softens. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"That's not necessary, but thanks anyway." The quiet chatter in the library threatens to drown me out as I speak the words, almost nonexistent, moved by the offer. Even after I've been ignoring her like this, to know she'd still do that for a friend is awesome, and it helps make the rest of what I have to say easier. "I know it's kind of a touchy subject, but I wanted to talk about me and you. You know, about the thing you told me."
"Ugh, do we have to? I really don't see what good it'll do, I don't know why I even brought it up." She raises her eyebrows, shrugging it off like it doesn't matter. This time I won't be fooled, I saw her that night, hunched over and nearly in tears, and I remember all too well the many loathsome sneers she's given over the years. There's so much anger there, too much hurt to deny, and for the first time—because I truly know that's what she needs—I'll face it.
"I'm really glad you did, and I'm sure you probably hate me for running out on you like that—that was such a dick move—but I'd like another shot to get it right." Something I say hits the right chord, because when I've finished she looks over at me fully, a glimpse of the Maddy I've become reacquainted to these last few months showing through.
"You definitely are an asshole." Her lip curls up to one side, just barely, and she approaches the matter with a dark humor. That's easiest for her, I think, and after she's had a short laugh to herself she stares down at the table. "I honestly don't know why I told you, I swore I never would, but I guess it just slipped out."
"What I don't get is why though? Why didn't you want to tell me?" I've already been so unfair to her, and pushed her in too many ways, but there's still that part of me that's dying to know. "Like, I know we broke up and, yeah, maybe we weren't in love, but I still loved you. I really fucking hate that you had to carry that by yourself, I feel so shitty."
"You were gone long before I got pregnant, Brent, we both know that, but I kept trying to make it work because," Maddy stops, frozen as she earnestly tries to figure out the reason. But she can't, there's no making sense of why she would hold onto something that wasn't working. "I don't know. All I know is that I loved you, but you were so clearly in love with somebody else and I knew that if I told you then you would only end up staying. Not out of love, out of pity, and I didn't want that. I still don't."
"How do you know that's how it would've played out?" Would I have stayed? No, I already said that, but there are other ways I could've given her support. Even then I'm not sure what it would've looked like, especially with Jonah, but I can at least say what's in my heart, and we'll never know for sure now that it's done and I can never get it right.
"Because I know you. And besides, it wasn't completely selfless, it's not like I wanted to be trapped in a relationship with a guy I would always know didn't want me. So I did what I thought was best, and I'm sure you'd agree I didn't owe you anything." She has no qualms about calling me out, about reminding me of the affair and how I cheated on her for almost a year. Doesn't matter what the reasons were, all that matters is I lied to her, deceived her. Hurt her. So she's right, how could I expect her trust after that, let alone an explanation.
"No, but I'm still glad you finally told me. Thank you." I lean forward in my chair reflexively, almost drawn to be nearer her. I mean it too when I look across at her with nothing but gratitude and remorse, but as grateful as I am there's one final, gnawing piece of the convoluted puzzle I need. Even if I don't deserve it. "Is it cool if I ask what happened, you know, with the baby?"
"I had an abortion." Without pause and without shame, Maddy lays it out so I can see. Maybe it was hard for her once, and I have to wonder if there are nights, even if few and far between, where she wakes up and thinks about it, even though now, given time, she's strong. "Then my parents sent me away for the summer so they wouldn't have to deal with it, and things weren't the same after that, for any of us. You don't need to feel sorry for me either, I'm over it. Like I said, it's what I thought was best and that hasn't changed."
"I still feel bad." The overwhelming and selfish relief I feel doesn't come close to negating the horrible guilt I'm wracked with. Which is why I think maybe I'm starting to understand why she didn't say anything. Maybe it was self-preservation at first, when she was so angry, but even when we started being friends again I think she wanted to protect me in some sick way. It's the same reason I think lying is easiest, because sometimes the truth only does more harm than good, and someone gets hurt. I just don't want her to be the one with the hurt anymore, "I get why you hated me so bad now."
"Don't be such a wimp—I hated you for a while, so what. As much as it kills me to admit, I know you were in a tough spot and that kind of makes it easier." Another reluctant admission makes its way out, but this one doesn't seem as difficult as the last. Nor does it push her as hard as the next one she tries to make, and I watch her take a deep breath before she's able to look me in the eyes again. "I still think you're a good person, I just, I wish things could've been different, that's all."
"Me too." Again, muscle memory takes over when I lay my hand on the table, set somewhere right down the middle like I'm reaching out for her. I'm almost not even cognizant of it, and after we've sat with our unspoken understanding for a while I find that I'm not yet out of questions. Not quite. "Do you think we can ever really put it behind us?"
"We can try." Maddy reaches over to rest her hand in mine. There's sort of a full circle notion to it—how far we've come—and I think about how horrible it all must have felt for her, to have loved me so completely only to learn that I wanted things she wouldn't be a part of. That's certainly something I'm discovering a lot about for myself. Like she seems to be now, I only hope I can learn to reconcile it. Eventually she pulls back with a contended sigh as she settles further in her chair. "I suppose it is a good thing we were able to clear the air. I'd say you can run me through the courses you have for the semester since we're already here, but I don't want to keep you, what with your uncle and everything."
"You're still going to tutor me?" I really hadn't given it much thought, my academics have been the furthest thing from my mind lately, so to speak of it now, and how she's willing to jump right back in, throws me just a bit.
"If you want me to." Once more she shrugs it off effortlessly, as though there's nothing weird at all about it. Then again, she does have a few years head start when it comes to putting the past in the rearview, so her selfless gesture probably doesn't cost her too much. Especially when she eagerly reminds me that it's not so selfless. "And anyway, there's not a lot of time left for you to help me find a boyfriend."
"Do you still think that's a good idea?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Look, I haven't forgot the deal, but are you sure that's really for the best right now? You're already so awesome, you don't need to hook up with some random dude to prove it."
"I know that." She rolls her eyes.
"Then why is this so important to you?" That feels like something I can ask finally when we've already been so open with one another, when it's the kind of thing a friend might ask anyway. From my experience when we dated, I remember how much she hates to be alone, and I'm confident I have it all figured out.
"I'm guessing for the same reason you asked Jonah to marry you, even though we haven't even graduated yet." A bit of sass returns to her voice, but mostly she's just being honest when she calls me out yet again. She had said she didn't want my pity, so much so that it drove her to bear an impossible burden all on her own for far too long. That's one more way we're alike, which is why I understand all too well when she has to look anywhere but at me to make the simple concession. "Everybody wants to be loved."
How can I deny it? When I put it to the test there is nothing I wouldn't do to always feel the warmth of Jonah's love. Nothing. What a terrible thought, reignited into a roaring flame, that this same time next year I might have to be without it. It's still the one thing I don't know how to face, and I wonder if I ever can, or if I'm truly destined to be like Maddy in every way—holding onto something that's not working for some pathetic reason. The feeling's enough to devour me, so as is my custom I put it away, focusing wholly on Maddy as I realize that somehow I might still make this right.
I never thought I could have so much respect for her, but here it is, a silent and persistent veneration that lives within me when I see her across the table with head held high and that same shamelessness in her eye. She could teach me more than just the gist of my classwork, and while I'm not sure about the whole boyfriend thing, I make a vow that I will pay her back for everything. It's not really about what she's owed—and believe me, she is fucking owed—it's about what I want, and I rededicate myself in the hope that if I can't figure out how to save myself, maybe I can start by saving her.