Confessions

Butcher: Early May

I sit with my legs hanging over the edge, the water of Lake Michigan below my feet, me half-sitting on my portfolio folder so all my hard work won’t blow away into the lake.

I don’t know what else to do, where else to be.

Graduation is in a week and a half.

I should be happy that we’re signed and scheduled to record in the fall, but I only feel empty.

I should be spending time with Victoria and Lila, get in some time like everyone else is before the two of them leave for New York in June.

I should be apol-

“Sisky told me I might find you here.”

I look then do a double-take at the interruption; I’m that surprised she’s even speaking to me again.

She looks gorgeous in her turquoise sundress, her hair flying everywhere because of the wind.

She keeps her distance.

“I don’t bite, Lila,” I manage to say, even with my throat suddenly as dry as it is.

“That’s not true,” she replies, but comes to sit next to me after taking off her sandals. “You bit me when we were eight,” she reminds me. I quirk a smile.

“That was different,” I defend myself. “You were pissing me off.”

She actually laughs, but quickly tries to stifle it, since we haven’t been on speaking terms since that one night during the game when I said things I didn’t really mean.

“You know, this is probably the shittiest thing you’ve ever done to me,” she says, squinting out over the greenish-blue lake. The clouds are a safe white-gray, not thick enough to hide the sun.

“I know,” I agree.

“Why, Butcher?” she asks, looking sideways at me. I can’t look her in the eyes for too long; her gaze is too probing, too demanding, making me sick with guilt all over again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I was jealous. I was a fucking stupid jealous idiot asshole. can you blame me?” She looks away, down at the water, swinging her legs a little, back and forth. “He was totally wrong for you anyway,” I bravely manage to point out. She shrugs; noncommittal. “Come on, Lila. He celebrated Valentine’s Day. For Christ’s sake.”

“Fine,” she admits, grumbling a little. “I didn’t expect it to last as long as it did.” I pause. “But I really liked him, Butch,” she adds, groaning. “He was such a good-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I interrupt. That’s the last thing I need to hear about right now. She shakes her head at me.

“Kisser. I was going to say kisser.”

“Right,” I answer, not quite believing her.

She hits my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I add morosely.

“Butcher, we’re best friends. That means I’ll always forgive you for whatever dumb shit you do.”

“That’s a lot to forgive,” I admit, shaking my head at myself. She shrugs again.

“Gabe…he said you must care about me a lot if you would sabotage our relationship like that.”

“I do, Lila,” I reply.

“But that was some low, shitty stuff you did back there,” she shakes her head, closing her eyes at the extent of my selfish stupidity.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” I insist.

“It’s fine, Andy. I’m not mad anymore. Just…never again, alright?” she sighs, and I nod my agreement.

“So I guess I have a…confession,” I begin nervously, after a good silent seven minutes of watching waves splash and clouds move. “Lila, I’m…I’m kind of in love with you.”

“I know,” she replies, after another short silence.

“Figures,” I state, shrugging.

“Butcher…” She turns to me, her eyes apologetic.

“No. Just…don’t,” I groan.

“Don’t what?” she asks, confused.

“You’re going to say some cliché crap about how you love me, but not in the way I want you to love me, and- I don’t know, Lila. Just don’t do that to me. I don’t deserve that shit and you know it.”

She shakes her head at me for the millionth time today, a partially amused half-smile on her face.

“I wasn’t that going to say anything like that, Andy.” I give a humorless snort in disbelief. “I wasn’t,” she insists. “Why don’t you ever believe me?”

“Then what were you going to say?” I challenge.

“I was going to say…” she pauses briefly. “I’m sorry, I guess.”

“I act like a dick and you apologize,” I shake my head at her. “Figures.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes again. She suddenly links her arm with mine, resting her head on my shoulder.

It feels nice, until I remember she still hasn’t given me a straight answer.

“I’m going to miss you,” she states, realizing the gravity of the situation. “You know I’m going to New York for grad school.”

“I know,” I reply.

“I can’t make any promises.”

But at this point, I don’t want any more excuses.

I lean over to kiss her without warning, taking her face in my hands, feeling slightly more confident than my old six year old self, hoping she won’t punch me and shove me in the lake.

But she doesn’t. Her lips mold to mine, her soft ones pressing against my chapped ones – innocent kisses to prove her point.

“I’m serious, Andy,” she says, pushing me gently back after a minute or so. “If this is gonna work…” she begins, glancing over at me hesitantly. “Then I want to be your best friend first. Always.”

I stare at her, and she looks back with a stern look that says “alright?”

So I say, “Deal.”

I want to kiss her again, but I don’t want to push her and ruin my chance, so I restrain myself.

“I just got my portfolio back,” I say, instead. “If you want to see.”

I offer the folder out to her, and she takes it, careful not to let them fly away.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathes, after a quick examination of each one. “They’re perfect. Who are they of?”

“You,” I reply seriously, despite the smile decorating my face.

“No. They’re too pretty to be me,” she states. “You always say you only paint things how you see them.”

“That is how I see you,” I reply honestly.

She suddenly shoves the paintings back into my hands, pulling up her legs to press her face into her knees silently.

“Li-” I begin, startled. She shakes her head, her shoulders just barely visibly shaking.

And my best friend, my Lila, whose emotions I only ever see flip between happiness and excitement or annoyance and anger, she turns to me with tears in her eyes-

And she kisses me like I’ve been waiting for her to for years now.