Just Say You Love Me

The call came at three in the morning.

"Hello?" I answered drowsily.

"Devon," Ryan gasped. He was crying. Well, sobbing actually.

"Ry, what the hell happened?"

"He-- he's dead."

My jaw dropped. "Ryan."

"I just ... I don't know what to do."

"Does your mom know?"

"Like she'll care. She'll throw a fucking party. That's why she left the two of us in the first place."

"Ryan. She loves you, and you know it. She couldn't stand your dad's alcoholism, so she left. She couldn't afford for you to live with her."

"Bullshit."

"Where are you right now?" I asked after a long pause.

"The hospital."

"Do you have your car?"

I'll be there in ten -- scratch that -- twenty minutes to pick you up. You're staying with me tonight."

"Are you sure?" he asked tenatively.

"George Ryan Ross the third, you made me come stay with you for a week after mom and dad died on that car accident. Yes, I'm sure. It helped me feel better."

"Okay.... Devon?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could call the guys for me? ... and mom? You're kinda the first person I called."

"Of course."

"'kay, thanks."

"No problem. See ya in a little bit."

"Bye."

I hung up. While I was hobbling aroung in the dark,. I called Brendon and Brent. They both reacted the same way, and decided to call Ry. Then I had to call his mom.

"Hello?" The answer was a wide-awake it's-seven-in-the-morning-here-in-New-York answer.

"Hi, Mrs. Ross, er, Ms. Newberry, I mean."

"Devon?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Devon, dear, what's wrong?"

"Uh. Ryan asked me to call. Mr. Ross just passed away."

"Oh...."

"Yeah...."

"Is that all? I'm quite busy right now."

"Yeah. Sorry to bother you," I said before hanging up. Ryan was right.

I threw a hoodie on and left my room. I walked across the hall to knock on Spencer's door. "Come in!" he yelled, just loud enough for me to hear. It sounded more like "omen", though.

I opened the door, and Spencer turned on his bedside lamp. "What's wrong?"

"Ry just called. George died."

"Oh."

"Yeah, just tellin' ya. I'm going to pick him up right now."

"Okay." H turned the light back off, and I heard him flop back down onto the bed.

In the kitchen, I grabbed my keys from the breakfast bar and left.

This is the scent of quarintine wings in a hospital.

"Hey, handsome."

"Ryan looked up from the beige floor tiles of the weird-smelling hospital waiting room. "hi."

"Ready to jet?" I asked, holding up my keys.

"More than ready." He stood up and came over to hug me. "When did you get so short, Dev?"

"Shut up, Ross. I've been five-three since seventh grade."

"I know," he smiled. "It's just fun to make fun of you."

"Not all of us can be fucking six-one."

"Sorry." He kissed the op of my head.

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled.

We walked out to the parking garage, his arm around my shoulder, mine around his waist. Some say we would make a perfect couple, but the truth is, he's my best friend. I could never date Ryan (no offense to him).

"Starbucks?" I asked.

"Hell yes."

The ride was quiet, except for the music Ryan insisted on playing. It was Bright Eyes, though, so it wasn't too bad.

After I ordered our drinks, we sat in the car for a few hours in the parking lot, just drinking our coffee and listning to Bright Eyes. Neither one of us talked, but somehow it was okay.

It's not so plesant, and it's not so conventional.

"Oh, Devon." I was getting sick of that already, and it was only five-thirty.

"I know," I sighed, then squeezed Ryan's hand.

He squeezed my hand back, before quietly asking if he could go up to my room to get some sleep.

We walked up the squeaky ateps and padded to my room. We sank into my bed, exhausted. A tear trailed down Ryan's cheek. I wiped it off with my thumb and kissed the spot where the tear had been. He smiled at me. It was weak, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"God, we have so many memories from my house. Sure, most are bad, but there are good ones."

I smiled. "Yeah. Like when I was seven, and you, Spencer, Brent, and I decided to jump off the garage into the pool. Then I broke my elbow."

"Hey, I broke my ankle from that, thank you."

"I broke my elbow."

"Fine. Oh, what about the sime we camped out in the backyard?"

I laughed. "When Brent thought he saw a bear?"

"That's the one."

"Ooh, I got it. The time we put on a circus, and used my dog as a lion."

"I think mom video-taped that," he smiled. "Oh my God. My tenth birthday party."

"Ryan," I groaned.

"Do you remember?"

"Just that I didn't talk to you the entire time."

"Because I invited other girls."

"No way!"

"Yeah."

"Hmmm ... oh! The time we went fishing!"

"Oh, God."

"And the time the old lady at Starbucks thought we were homeless."

"And the time we nearly scared the dude at In-and-Out Burger half to death!"

"And when Brent got locked in the basment!"

"And when the pool collapsed."

"And when Spencer fell out of the tree house."

"What about the time," Spencer started, looking through my open door, "you two lost your virginity to each other because you wanted to know what sex was like?" He looked pissed and still half asleep.

"Spencer. Shut the fuck up," I hissed. "No one was supposed to know[i/] about that! If you don't shut up, Uncle Spence will hear you."

"They're downstairs talking about Ryan moving in; you're fine."

"Well, what the hell crawled up yor ass and died? You're being a shithead."

"Sorry. I'm just tired."

"How did you find out about that anyway?" Ryan asked.

"Heard you talking about it, like, the next day.

We both blushed. "There was, um, alcohol involved," I managed. "Like, a loooooot."

"Many Jell-O shots and mini-bottles of Vodka were consimed prior to the sex," Ryan added.

Spencer laughed and sat down on the bed. "Great. My baby cousin, of course."

"Sorry, Spense. It was a wild night for everyone, though. Crazy party. And it was right after Dean broke up with me. Like, two hours after. Jill had broken up with Ry, like, a week before. It was drunked depression sex."

"With your best friend," he added. "God, with my best friend."

"Well, it's not like we don't love each other. He ismy best friend. Sure, we're probably not gonna get married, but I do love him. Just not like that."

He laughed. "I'm not mad, Dev. Just still in ... shock, that's all. But what if you're pregnant? It was only a month ago. Did ... did he use a protection?"

"I used a condom, dude. And Devon is on the Pill. We talked about this already. If she is, which is highly unlikely, the baby'll be given to foster care. We do want to raise it, if there is an us, but she's seventeen; I'm eighteen. We can't handle a kid," Ryan answered.

I laid back on my bed and sighed, both hands on my stomach. "God, I'm scared. What if we're the point-one percent, and I am pregnant? What am I going to tell Uncle Spencer and Aunt Kathy!? 'Oh, I got drunk at my birthday party with Ryan and had sex with him. We used a condom and all, but I got pregnant anyway'? Jeez, guys; I can't do this."

"Calm down, Dev," Ryan said. "We don't even know if -- and that's a big 'if' -- you're pregnant."

Suddenly Uncle Spencer was at the bottom of the stairs, yelling up. "The three of you, get down here!"

I swear, as that moment, my face went ghost white. All I could do was think "busted" and walk to the living room hanging my head.

It sure as hell ain't normal, but we deal, we deal.

So the coast was clear about the maybe-pregnancy thing. More good news? Ryan was moving into the spare bedroom!

At eight, Ryan asked if I wanted to go to his old house to get his stuff.

"Sure."

"Okay. Thanks. I just don't wanna go there by myself, ya know? I don't think I can handle it.

"Yeah. I remember what it's like." I paused before asking, "Are you okay?"

"I dunno. I was just in shock at first. But at least I don't have to plan the funeral or anything. Apparently, after his first heart attack, dad drew up a will, leaving me whatever I wanted -- with exception of money, my greatest need -- and instructions for the funeral. I just want pictures and stuff. The rest goes to my cousin Amber."

"Oh. Well, that's good, I guess. Except the money thing."

"Mhmmm."

"So where's the after-funeral thing gonna be?"

"The house."

"Ah."

Five minutes later, we were in my car -- Ryan driving -- on the way to his old house. "God, it's so weird to think that this is one f the last times we're gonna go back here," I mumbled. "I grew up here with you. Brent and Spencer too."

Ryan squeezed my hand. It was more of a sad squeeze than a comforting one, so I squeezed his back tightly.

We got to the house and sat staring for God knows how long. Finally I announced, "The sooner we get this done and over with, the sooner we can go home."

We got out of the car and made our way to Ryan's bedroom. "This is very clean for you," I stated. The room was nearly spotless.

"Well, the paramedics wouldn't let me ride with them to the hospital, and I overheard some of 'em talking, saying he probably wouldn't make it this time, so I cleaned my room up. Everything from the floor and the walls are in boxes under my bed."

"Wow."

"I had a while. Started at nine-thirty last night."

"So how did you get to the hospital, anyway?"

"Taxi," he said, opening the closet. "I didn't think I could -- or should -- drive." He threw me a folded-down box. "If you can get that together, there's a whole drawer full of your clothes in my dresser."

"Which drawer?"

"Bottom."

While Ryan folded the clothes from his closet and put them in boxes, I assembled mine. It was big, but so was Ryan's dresser drawers. I guessed my clothes would fill the box. Plus, Ryan probably had stolen shirts and jeans in the closet, too.

I opened the bottom drawer. "I left my Marvel shirt here!? I thought Brent stole it."

"Nope. You left it here after the ..," he cleared his throat, "party."

"Oh." I felt nauseous. "I was probably too hung-over to remember it."

"Probably ..."

We quietly packed his things. I thought back to the party.

"Devon, I just can't deal with this anymore. We fickin' fight all the time. We're done," Dean told me.

"What!? Seriously, Dean, I love you! We can make it work!"

"I love you too, but we can't. We've been trying to fix things for four months. That's half the time we've been dating."

"But--"

He kissed me softly one last time before turning and leaving Ryan's house.

"What the fuck!?" I exclaimed.

"Dev!" Brent yelled. "Jordie Bing just got here, and he brought Jell-O shots!"

"Great. Just what I need."

"Good." He already smelled like beer/ "I hope you do, 'cause he brought tons."

"Good."

We went to the table and grabbed as many Jell-O shots as we could fit into four hands, then found a corner previousl occupied by three or four mega-stoners. The whole room smelled like pot, but the corner was worst. We didn't care, though. We just wanted to get drunk.

I was on the floor, leaning against the wall, about to have yet another Jell-O shot, when Ryan and Spencer both came up, both tipsy and carring loads of mini-bottles.

"Wass tha'?" I slurred.

"Vodkaaa," Spencer announced.

"Gimme."

We drank until the bottles were all empty.

"Ya wanna dance?" Ryan asked me with a goofy smile on is face.

I nodded and pushed myself off the floor. We stumbled to where everyone else was dancing. I tripped, but Ryan caught me and held me close.

I don't know if it was all the alcohol or all the anger, or a combination of the two, but right then I stood on my toes and kissed my best friend right on the lips. He looked shocked for a second, but then kissed me this time. Eventually we made our way to his room connected at the mouth. Clothes were removed, a condom was put on, and both of us were deflowered on the Ikea bedspread that he had had for two years.

I woke up the next morning sore, hungover, and entangled in the sheets. Ryan was holding me, still asleep. That's when I started crying. How could I've been so stupid!?

My sobs woke Ryan up. He understood and got me some pajamas after putting the previously discarded boxers on. Suddenly feeling shy, I dressed under the sheets. When I was done, Ryan climbed back into the still-warm bed and held me some more while I cried foe hours, At some point after I had calmed down, we talked about what had happened and what would happen if I ended up pregnant.

When your parents tell you to have fun on your birthday, at the party thrown for you by your closest friends, I don't think they mean by losing your virginity to your very best friend.

"Dev? About that night..," Ryan started. "I'm so sorry. I mean, I don't regret anything that we did, but I'm still sorry. We were upset and drunk, and it shouldn't have happened."

I looked over at him. "Of course I don't regret anything. If there's anyone that I would want to lose my virginity to, other than my future husband, it would be be my best friend."

He nodded.

"But I'm just so scared at the possibility of being pregnant."

"I know...."

"I made an appointment with Planned Parenthood. to take a pregnancy test."

"Good."

We finished packing his things and took then to my car without talking. On the way home, we held hands, but didn't speak or even turn the radio on.

The anestheic never set in, and I'm wondering where the apathy and the urgency is.

When it happened, I didn'teven feel anything. I had just woken up in the middle of the night to go the bathroom. But I did feel strange, so I looked into the toilet before flushing.

I hadn't had my period since before the party, but now I knew why for sure.

I didn't know what to do. I'd never had a miscarriage before, nor had I ever been pregnant. I felt dirty, despite having showered before I went to bed, so I took another one and put on all fresh clothes then flushed.

I hadn't realized that I had been crying the whole time until after I had snuck down the hall to Ryan's room.

"Whet's wrong?" he asked quietly. "Why are you crying."

"Why was I crying? I like to think it's because I was relieved not to have a child, but it was probably that, added on to the fact that I was scared. I was scared that I could never have kids. I was scared that there had been a human being growing inside me for a month and a half and I hadn't known it. I was scared for reasons I couldn't even begin to ponder. But mostly I was scared because at that moment I realized that I loved George Ryan Ross the third with all my heard and soul.

What if he didn't love me back the same way? What if he did? What if, what if, what if. I could play that game all day. So I did the only thing that seemed reasonable at the time.

I kissed Ryan. I for real kissed him. And he kisses back. When we pulled apart, he whispered in my ear, "It'll all be okay."

So I whispered, "I love you. I really love you."

He didn't look shocked at all. "I love you too. Really," he mumbled before I attacked him with my lips again.