Far From You

30

TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO (FIFTEEN YEARS OLD)

My phone buzzes. It’s two A.M. and I’m half-asleep, but as soon as I see it’s Mina, I answer.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

I get out of bed. Mina’s parked across the street, leaning against a familiar blue F-150.

“You stole Trev’s truck? You only have your permit.”

“I borrowed it. And no one’s gonna catch us. Come on, let’s go.”

I pull my shoes on and sneak downstairs. I’m in pajama pants and a tank top, but it’s a warm night and I don’t care. Mina beams when she sees me coming out the door. “Where’s the cane?” she asks as I get into the passenger seat. “You have another three weeks—”

“I’m getting better without it,” I interrupt. “It’s fine. I need to get used to walking. Even the guys at PT said so.”

“Okay,” Mina says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.

We roll down all the windows and head to the lake, singing along to the radio. Taking the back road, we head toward a spot only locals know, where we’ve spent hundreds of lazy hours over the years, swimming and soaking up the sun.

The lake stretches out in front of us and Mina pulls over, parking in a turnout by the side of the road. When we get out of the car, I can hear the soft lapping of the water against the rocks below. The moon’s high in the sky, shining off the water. We’ve been coming to this spot since we were kids, but it was easier to navigate the trail down to the shore back then.

Mina helps me down the tricky stretch to the little beach. We strip down to our underwear, and there is nothing self-conscious about her when she tosses her shirt onto the rocks. I follow suit, slower, more carefully. Mina walks into the lake, waiting until she’s hip-deep before slipping under. She comes up with a splash, her dark hair flying everywhere as she beams at me in the moonlight.

The water is cold—almost too cold—against my skin, and goose bumps prickle on my arms as I wade in after her. My toes dig into the muddy bottom for better traction, but once I get deep enough, I can lift my feet and let the water buoy me back and forth, weightless, almost painless.

Mina floats on her back, staring up at the sky. “I heard something today,” she says.

“Hmm?” I float next to her, letting the water support my body.

“Amber said she saw Cody buying condoms at the drugstore last week.”

I reach my arms above my head, pushing through the water, away from her.

I’m not fast enough. She jerks forward, off her back, splashing everywhere as she treads water, facing me. “You didn’t!” When I don’t say anything or look at her, she says, “Oh my God, you did.”

“So what if I did?” I ask, and it comes out way more defensive than I intend. Cody and I had been dating for months; it had seemed like the thing to do. I just didn’t want to tell anyone afterward.

She should know how good I am at pretending. It’s all we do. It’s all I do. I pretend that I don’t hurt, that I want Cody, that I don’t want her, that I’m not taking too many pills, that my virginity had been important.

It hadn’t been. It only means something when it’s with the right person. And I couldn’t have her.

“I can’t b-believe…” Mina stutters. “Oh my God.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I mumble.

“Yes it is!” She says it so quickly, and I can hear the catch in her voice.

Like she’s about to cry.

“Mina.” I start to swim over to her, but she turns from me, dives deep. She glides under the water, and when she surfaces I can’t tell if it’s tears or lake water dripping down her face.

We never talk about it again.

A week later, Mina and I are at a party at Amber’s when Amber waylays me, walking across the crowded deck with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands, twirling her sun-streaked hair around her finger. We’re outside. Amber’s house is next to the river, and I’ve been zoning out, staring at the ducks riding the current downstream.

“What?”

“You mean Mina didn’t tell you?” Amber’s eyes widen. “Maybe I shouldn’t say anything.…”

“Amber, out with it,” I snap. I can be a bitch when I need to be. And no matter how much Amber would like it to be her, I’m Mina’s best friend.

“Mina’s totally sleeping with Jason Kemp.”

“What?” I can feel blood drain from my face. I have to tighten my hold on my cup so I don’t drop it.

I look for Mina immediately, instinctively. When our eyes meet across the deck, I understand: she planned it, she wanted it this way, she’d just been waiting for me to find out—and I hate her for it.

It’s the most vicious thing she’s ever done to me, but really, how can I blame her?

Two weeks after that, two weeks of her hanging off Jason’s neck, of them making out everywhere, of that gleam in her eye, the way she’s pushing at me, punishing me, I finally can’t handle it anymore. I’m sobbing as I crush the pills.

I’ve been on the edge of this for months, gulping down too many, numbing myself to the pain. Numbing myself to her. This is the inevitable next step down, the evolution of my fall.

It’s like a roller coaster, the dip and slide searing through me, going straight to my head. The buzz—fleeting, but oh so good—floods me, and I’m reaching for more before it vanishes completely. Anything to erase her from me.

But some marks, they don’t fade. No matter what.