November 27th (later): Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

Mari is asleep on the couch when I get home. She stirs sleepily when she hears me come in the door.

“Xavier?” she asks groggily.

I nod, switching on the light. She squints.

“I would guess that Manny told you,” I say quietly.

She pulls the blanket up around her neck and nods, yawning. “You’re a good guy, X,” she says softly.

“She’s still pissed at me. Something’s bothering her, I guess.” I sigh. “I just want her to be happy, you know? I can forget about the rest.”

Mari smiles sleepily. “You’re sweet, X...” She sighs, blinking quickly a few times, holding a hand over her eyes. “But it’s not your job to make her happy, you know? Sometimes you have to think about yourself.”

“I’ve known her since I was a little kid,” I protest softly. “I was the one who knew about her father, who hid her in my room when things got too bad at home... We’ve been fighting since grade school.” I shrug. “But we always got over it, eventually. Except this time... It’s bigger.”

She nods. “You know what it was like, when you were in love with her and... She was in love with someone else.” She sighs, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands. “You remind her of herself. All the shitty things, the things she hates.... And her father. I think you remind her of him, too.”

“But I don’t hit her!”

“You’re moody, X,” she explains gently. “And that works. But mood swings are something she learned to be scared of.”

“I’ve never laid a finger on her when I was angry, though,” I say dejectedly.

Mari shrugs. “I’m not saying it makes perfect sense. But... She’s scared. Everyone has some fear that isn’t totally rational.” She smiles. “You just have to learn to love her anyway.”

“She’s the one who spends all her time with me trying to make me punch her!” I protest.

“X, look... Everyone has problems in their past that resurface in their present. You have to show her that you understand that she’s having trouble... But that you’re going to stick around.”

“I’m offering to raise a child that isn’t even mine!”

“Have you ever gotten really pissed at her and told her that you were through?”

I sigh. “Look, I’m no saint, okay? I just... I don’t understand why it takes so much to get her to trust me.”

“Because she protects herself,” Mari says softly. “She’s too scared of getting hurt. You have to break that down, X. That’s your job.”

“Today I was just talking to her about normal things and suddenly she starts going on about how I’m trying to get information out of her... Something about some bad incident in her past.” My eyebrows lower. “I think she wants to tell me... But she’s scared of what I’d say.”

Mari nods. “Start there, then.” She smiles, reaching out, patting my hand. “Look, X, you’re a good kid. And you love her. She’s lucky to have that. She’ll figure that out, eventually.”

“Okay,” I say softly, biting my lip. “And Mari?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

She smiles, pulling her hand away. “Don’t give up on her, X,” she says quietly. “That’s exactly what she’s expecting you to do.”

* * *

“Hey.”

Amy smiles at me. “How did you find my locker?”

I shrug. “Saw you while I was walking. Thought I’d stop and say hi.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “Um... How are things with you and Alice? I hope... You told her, right? About us?”

I nod. “She was pissed. But I think she’s getting over it. It’s kind of a... You know, something for her to be upset about so she doesn’t have to tell me what she’s really upset about.”

Amy laughs. “You’re beginning to learn about women, I see.”

I roll my eyes, shrugging modestly. “I do my best.”

She slams her locker door shut. “I have no idea where my classes are. You’d think I’d remember this place better...” She smiles at me shyly.

“Um, what’s your next class?”

“US History. With Chapman?”

I nod. “Yeah. Mine too. Walk with me?”

She falls into step beside me. “Look, it’s awkward, I think... What happened. I don’t know whether I should... You know, pretend it didn’t happen, or whether...” She sighs. “Sex is stupid. I should be a nun.”

“If everyone who was confused by sex became celibate, the population would die out,” I observe.

She shrugs. “I don’t think the reproducing population would miss me, much.”

“I would miss you,” I say softly. Then I realize what that could mean. “I mean... Not like...” I blush furiously. “Actually, I’m with you. I’m going to become a monk. And take a vow of silence.”

Amy laughs, smiling up at me. “Don’t worry. I get you. Once was enough.”

“Thanks,” I say, sighing, then jerk my head toward a door. “Fifth period US History, ma’am.” I kick the door open. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks,” she says, rolling her eyes. But she’s smiling. And I think things might be okay, this time.

* * *

“Saw you with Amy Jensen in the hallway,” Ty remarks, leaning back in his chair. “I thought you were trying to get Alice back.”

I sigh, sipping my coffee. “You don’t just sleep with someone and never talk to them again.” I grin. “Take note of that, Mr. Virgin. Future reference.”

He kicks me under the table. “Assface.”

“Jealous, much?” I smile. “Anyway, yeah, I was talking to her... She’s considering going into the convent. Finds sex too confusing.”

“Geez, and you tease me about being a virgin – you drive your partners to nunship.” He grins.

“Eh, I’m just jealous of your virginity. We both know it.”

He shrugs, taking a swig of coffee. “Sex is a bitch, man. Much like life, and people.”

“Is anything not a bitch?” I sigh.

He mulls it over for a second. “No, actually, I think the term covers pretty much everything.”

“It certainly covers your mom,” I quip.

He kicks me under the table again. “That is so lame. And old. And... Did I say lame already? And lame.”

“Humor is a bitch.” I roll my eyes. “My friend Tyler? Total bitch.”

“This is the point where you close your mouth, and the stupid person miraculously falls silent.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You calling me stupid?”

“Am I?” He grins.

“Bitch.”

“Assface.”

I roll my eyes again. “Virgin.”

“Skank.”

I gasp, melodramatically clutching my chest. “It burns...”

Ty smiles. “You’re going to make some woman miserable someday, kid.”

“Hopefully someday soon,” I say, sighing.

“She’ll come around.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Even if you are a skank.”

I smile sweetly. “Ty, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says drily. But he’s grinning ear to ear.

* * *

It doesn’t even look like the Knoll anymore. The sky still stretches on for miles, perfect white puffs surrounded by an expanse of light, vibrant blue. But the ground is scorched. Burnt grass crunches underfoot with every step. The whole place still smells of smoke.

“It’s dead,” I whisper. Because that’s the only word to describe it. All the vibrance, the green, the place that I loved... It’s gone. The lush green grass that met the asphalt of the highway is just a burnt landscape of brown. There’s still green around the outside edges, some sick border of life, but it’s not the same. The wooden fence that separates the Knoll from the surrounding private pastures taunts me. I close my eyes and sigh. “It’s really dead.”

For a moment I wish I’d waited till Alice could come. But it’s a fleeting wish. I know that to look at her destruction with her standing next to me, squeezing my hand... It would’ve killed me. Because this is her fault. She lit something sacred afire, and this is the result. My secret refuge from everything, where I watched the sun die so many nights... Where I reflected on the answers that noone else could give me... Where she kissed me...

I crouch down and run my fingers over what used to be grass. It’s brown. Dead. Gone.

This is the place where Manuel was conceived. Where Brady shot himself. Where Alice kissed me. Where the girl I love nearly died, and almost took our baby with her. Everything significant that has ever happened to me, it seems, happened on this square mile of grassy hilltop. This dead field is where my whole world used to be.

Maybe a place is only there as long as you need it. The Knoll was always my place to escape to, my grassy haven. But maybe it’s time for me to grow up. Maybe I can’t run away, anymore. Maybe this place wasn’t even what was special, all along. It was the people. The people and experiences that changed my life. This was the place for turning points.

And maybe this place is a turning point.

I stare at the sun, sleepily sinking down into the ground. And I smile. Slowly. Running my fingers one last time through the fire ravaged grass.

Maybe this is just the end of the beginning.

* * *

Henry stops me as I go to leave his class. “How’s Alice?”

I shrug. “I think she gets out of the hospital tomorrow. I haven’t really spoken to her.”

“Is she... Okay?” His eyes plead with me. I know he means the baby. I know I should answer him. That he’s not such a bad guy. But I can’t.

I sigh, digging a piece of notebook paper out of my pocket, scribbling something on it. “Here’s the number for her room,” I say, shoving the paper at him. “Ask her yourself.”

He smiles wearily. “What happened to her? Will you at least tell me that?”

“I pissed her off, in a pretty bad way. She went out to an empty field and lit it on fire. Then she sat down and fell asleep.”

His eyebrows lower.

“She was drinking,” I explain. “But someone driving by saw the fire, thought they saw someone in the fire, rushed in and dragged her out... She got burned pretty badly, but she’s going to be okay.”

“And... The...” He bites his lip.

“I told you. Go ask Alice.”

He smiles, probably remembering spitting that same phrase at me not so long ago. “Thank you, Xavier.”

I start to leave.

“One more thing,” he says, before I can get out the door. I turn to face him. “Are you okay, Xavier?”

I think of the overpass. Of wanting so badly to just not be anymore. Of Alice, lying in her bed, motionless, crying for me to go. Amy sobbing next to me in the car. Manuel screaming at me. And then I remember Ty and his father, embracing in the living room. Mamá cradling my face in her palm, calling me a man. Manny smiling. Amy laughing at my jokes. Mari, quietly reminding me to be patient.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m okay.”

And it’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever really meant it, I think.