Seventeen and Invincible

For the two and a half weeks that I was without Garrett, again, I forced myself to eat at least two, usually three times a day. Food felt like lead in my stomach and the smell of it was like poison. Unfortunately, I just had to deal with that. I tried to sleep for at least seven hours a night, but usually failed. I didn’t have time to do both—eat and sleep. Garrett called at least once, usually two or three times, every day, promising that he’d come see me the minute he got home—though I doubted I’d really be his first stop.

Almost nothing compared to the feeling of reading the text that said ‘see you in T-minus 12 hours.’

Knowing that he was only a mere twelve hours away; a half a day away, made me smile like nothing else. My smile would be brighter only when he was finally back here in Tempe. It was August and in five months I would be the one leaving him; leaving for goddamned Munich, Germany. If he was really going to graduate in December and tour for the rest of the winter that would mean I really had only four more months to spend with my best friend. Maybe if I just gave in and told him I was leaving, maybe he’d stay to say goodbye.

I’d gained back some of the weight I’d lost, or so I thought. I had a small frame, so even I knew that three pounds on me looked like thirteen on someone else. When it looked as if I’d lost about forty pounds, in reality it was only probably about fifteen—not that I’m making excuses.

Molly was almost happy that Garrett was gone. She was almost happy that I was a skeleton and that I cried and cut all the time. She was almost happy that I was almost dying. She was almost angry that by midnight he’d be back. She was almost angry that the only person who ever really cared about me was coming back. I don’t think she realized exactly how much I needed him—or she just didn’t care, which was actually, quite possible. I do think she knew that this whole leaving Arizona plan might actually kill me, causing me to lose the little bit of hope I’d held onto that she might’ve cared. I knew she didn’t.

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To keep myself occupied I’d decided to clean my room—and organize my dresser drawers, and sort my shoes by color and style, and re-hang a bunch of pictures on my wall, and alphabetize my bookshelf by author and then title for the twelfth time this year. I decided I’d organize my SAT subject test review books by subject and brand—Biology: Barron’s, Princeton Review, Chemistry: Barron’s, Kaplan, English Lit: Barron’s, Kaplan, Princeton Review, French: Barron’s, German: Princeton Review, Physics: Barron’s, Spanish: Princeton Review, US History: Barron’s, and lastly, World History: Kaplan. I’d spent so much time on those stupid review tests and wasted so much money on the books and tests, and now I’d be on the other side of the Atlantic with nearly no use for them. Like Molly’d let me go to college there, or let me come back to the United States. That was a joke if I’d ever heard one. And all the time wasted to get that perfect score on the SAT’s—I’d still fallen short with a 2390. It was like life was looking me in the face and laughing.

By the time I’d gotten all of the books together and neat in the shelves it was seven p.m. and I was tired. I’d managed to clean out my entire room, ridding it of things that might cause me to act badly. I’d managed to organize hair products alphabetically, change my sheets, clean my dresser—both inside and out—, wash my windows and mirrors, polish my furniture and vacuum. I couldn’t think of anymore cleaning to do, and I still had who knew how long until Garrett would be back.

I showered, scrubbing the grease and oil out of my sun-lightened hair. It was now officially auburn, rid of the darker brown streaks that plagued it in the times that I spent in doors. I stood under the water for an extra half hour after I was done, until I heard Molly’s shrill, ‘schnell, schnell, you’re wasting water.’

I had made it awake and alive until ten thirty. He would be back around eleven and I’d fallen asleep waiting for him. Though I’m sure he’d be ecstatic to find me asleep and with a few pounds back on my not-so-stable bones, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d failed by falling asleep. I also couldn’t help being rendered unconscious by fatigue and secrecy. I had my secrets and I’d learned the secrets of other people and tomorrow would make it that much harder to keep it all to myself. Garrett deserved to know my secret—that I was leaving—and there were others who deserved to hear these new secrets—though only one was really new, and that was part of the problem.

None of the secrets even mattered anymore, though, when, at eleven oh seven, Garrett climbed through my window, gently making his way across the floor. I felt his weight on the side of my bed, and I felt the mattress sink beneath me. The mattress squeaked as he moved to crawl under the quilt next to me, and his shoes thumped as they dropped onto the floor—I could almost smell the dirty, worn out Vans.

In my half asleep state, I rolled into his embrace, burying my head deep in his chest and inhaling the scent of whatever cologne it was he wore—or maybe it was just soap, or shampoo, or maybe just the smell of his soft skin.

One thing I noted silently to myself as I fell into a deeper sleep and a water drop fell onto me from his hair—I wasn’t really his first stop because a shower was. I also noted that he must have run into his house whenever the hell it was that he got home, showered, and then come here immediately after. That meant he’d bypassed his family to come here. That meant everything to me—that I meant everything to him.