I want to thank @ZoeyJennifer for this adorable cover! I love everyone’s artwork, oh my. Thank you for those that send them in and even to the ones that don’t. I’m sorry if I don’t respond to yours, but just every once in a while send me a message with the first word as “Artwork” and I’ll take a look. I love you all, have a fun ride on this roller coaster that hasn't even begun yet. (insert evil but sweet smile)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Is it weird to take pictures of yourself in your spanking brand new prom dress in a hospital next to your comatose mother?

        Because that’s exactly what I’ve been doing for the past ten minutes.

        “Okay, Mom, ready?” I say. I lean into her and hold up my phone and cross my eyes as I take the picture. My mother’s face is solemn and unconscious but somehow it makes the photo more funnier. If anyone sees me, they’ll think I’m crazy. I am.

        I look over the photos and laugh. There’s one of me pretending to be in a coma next to my mom, normal smiling ones, eye rolling ones, tongue-out ones, rocking out ones, and more. I seem to be having more fun with this than I thought. This is a whole new side of dark humor. Mom’s unresponsive but I feel like my excitedness for prom has given me happiness for this entire day and I don’t want to ruin it.

        I’m on the edge of her hospital bed and leaning in to take another first class selfie when the door is clicked open and I sit up. Only, I’m wearing a floor length dress and heels so I trip over the ends of my dress and fall butt-first to the floor.

        “Jesus!” I yell as I rub my rear, trying to sit up. I really hope it’s just some nurse instead of Doctor Chung or something. He’d never take me seriously again.

        But it’s not.

        A man walks in and I almost don’t recognize him. Dark hair and a slowly growing beard and light but sad eyes. He’s in black pants and a gray office shirt, holding a bunch of flowers in his hand.

        “Mark?” I say, standing up completely. “Is that you?”

        To say he looks surprised would be an understatement. His eyes are wide and his jaw to the floor. “Uh,” he replies, finding his voice, “Yeah, it’s me.”

        He seems so different. I can’t place why but he just does. His eyes are different, his walk, or maybe it’s because he’s grown facial hair. I can’t tell.

        “You look good,” I say. Why does it feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever? It’s only been a couple weeks—two or three at most. But our conversation is polite and our stances tense. I don’t like it. I feel like a stranger to him.

        Mark smiles and then laughs. “Yeah? Funny because you’re the one in a floor sweeping dress.” He looks up and his eyes dance across my body and a slow blush crosses his cheeks. He looks away. “I mean, you look gorgeous.”

        I look away too. This is way too awkward for my taste. “Thanks…I’m heading to prom.”

        “Prom?” He won’t look me in the eyes. “That’s cool.”

        “What about you? Why are you visiting my mother?” I say, curiously. I mean he hasn’t contacted me for a while now. He just ran off the morning after my birthday. After I told him Lee’s the only one for me. I understand but we were friends before he had feelings for me. He was that one guy that I could laugh along with in awkward situations and now we’re the awkward situation.

        He runs a hand through his hair and steals a glance at me before looking away. “Madam Jin wanted me to drop off some flowers since she couldn’t make it.”

        I was wondering how Mom’s vases of flowers were being changed everyday. Madam Jin still believes that my mother is her daughter-in-law. The thought sends a sick feeling to my stomach. Maybe because a part of me realizes it might be true. But it can’t be.

        “Oh, cool,” I say. We’re using the word ‘cool’ too much. “Do you come often instead of her?” Why am I making stupid conversation? This is Mark!

        “Not really,” he replies. He walks beside me to where Mom’s vases are perched near her bedside table. He takes out the wilting flowers that are there and puts in the daisies he’s brought. Mark looks worn down, like he has to wire himself up every morning. A quiet but thick silence settles over us.

        I pick at my nails even though I’ve just done them for prom. There’s questions I want answers to but I’m afraid of what I’ll get in response. “Why have you been avoiding us? Or should I say…me?” I whisper.

        Mark freezes over the trash can. Quickly, he throws away the wilting flowers. “What do you mean?”

        “You…you just disappeared,” I say.

        “What? I have to report to you every time I need to go somewhere? I have places to be, you know.” His tone is harsh and feels like icicles thrown at me.

        I grip my dress. “Sorry. I didn’t know I was such a bother to you.”  

        He’s washing his hands in the sink in the bathroom connected to the room when I hear an aggravated sigh. Mark wads up the paper towels after he dries his hands and angrily throws them in the trash. “I-I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to sound so rude.”

            “Yeah,” I say, looking at my toes. “You might want to work on that.”

            Mark slumps against the wall he’s next to and I feel an overwhelming itch to comfort him. He seems angry and confused at the same time. “What am I supposed to say to you, Ivory? I…It’s my own fault for letting you grow on me but what am I supposed to do after you basically rip my heart out?”

        Now I’m apologizing. “Mark, I’m sorry.” I turn around and fix Mom’s blankets just to avoid his burning stare. “You deserve more than me. You deserve someone who loves you for you, one hundred percent.”

        “You already said that,” he says. He sounds annoyed but defeated. Another sigh fills the room. “But I can’t get you out of my head, Ivory. You’re everywhere and nowhere at once. I thought I could leave and maybe forget you but then I run into you today and all this—this resolve I’ve been trying to get at is gone just like that. How can I forget you when I want nothing more to just steal you away?”

        My heart is thumping against my chest and I don’t know why. His words are cutting into me, carving themselves into my head. “I….”  

        “You’re so fucking beautiful and you’re intelligent and funny,” he whispers and I can almost feel his stare like hot lasers down my back. “I don’t want to forget you. My life has been so placid for the last ten years. The same routine, the same job, the same lifestyle. And then one day you hop into my car with your bubbly smile and confused face and I knew I wasn’t going to win.”

        “Mark.” I’m holding onto Mom’s blankets so tight I’m scared I’ll tear them apart. I gently pull it over Mom’s chest. “I don’t deserve the words you—”

        His arms are around me before words can come out. He’s hugging me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and his chest right up against my back. I can’t see him but I know I will probably end up crying if I do. Breaking his heart is breaking mine. His face is a little above my hair because of our height difference and his mouth is at my ear.

        “I love you, Ivory. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone truly.” His words have been said a million times in books and movies but why—why do they send a chill down my spine?   

            “I wish I could do something to ease your pain, but I can’t,” I whisper, letting go of Mom’s blanket and being the equivalent of a tree by just standing there. “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t apologize.” His lips are cold against my ear. “Just stay. Like this. Please.” Mark hugs me tighter and nestles his face into the crook of my neck. “Just a little more and I swear I won’t dare to touch you again.”

            So I do. I let him hug me because friends hug, right? Even friends that have complicated feelings towards each other. All of this makes me wonder where the easy going and playful Mark went. I wish I wasn’t the reason that that Mark disappeared.

            “I’ve never loved anyone that way I’ve loved you,” he says after forever. Mark moves his head and plants a kiss under my ear and near my neck. I feel a burning, fiery sensation when he does. Why does this feel like goodbye? It doesn’t have to be.    

        I turn around because I am imagining things I don’t and shouldn’t want. And words trip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I just don’t want him to go. “What about Anne?”

            Mark’s entire body tenses, from his fingertips to his face. So, the whole thing Lee told me is true. Is that why Mark looks full of guilt? He pulls away from me slowly, his arms slipping off my body. I almost tell him not to go. Almost.

            “I-I have to leave,” he says suddenly. He clenches his teeth hard and his jaw hardens. Mark backs away from me like I’m suddenly growing an extra head.

            I take his hand. “Wait,” I say.

            His eyes dart to my hand wrapped around his, stopping him. I must’ve said the wrong thing because suddenly his eyes redden and he bites his lip. “Please don’t, Ivory. Don’t let me in again when I am finally learning to let you go.” He takes my hand and presses the palm side to his lips. He leaves a chilling kiss in the middle before letting me go. “See you around.”

            Even after he’s gone and I’m staring at the door, I know I probably won’t.

“You’re late!” Candy says the moment I pull up on her driveway. She’s standing on her porch in a beautiful dark violet dress. She pulls open the passenger side of the door of the car and starts talking as she gets in. “It took forever to get my mom to stop taking pictures of me, oh my god, you have no idea! I can’t believe you’re late, too! And we’re going in your dump of a car. Sucks we’re too broke to rent a limo or something and just cruise—Hey, are you okay?”

        I turn my head, my eyes focusing into the present. “Sorry, did you say something?”

        Candy’s eyebrows pinch together. “What’s wrong? Is it your mom?”

        “Huh, why?”

        “You look very…distraught.”

        I start coughing up a laugh and shake my hand in front of my face. “Ha-ha, I’m fine! Just nervous for prom, that’s all.”

        “Is it because Lee isn’t going to be there?” She frowns and puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, girl. We can be independent together and have fun!”

        “Yeah, it’s that,” I lie, starting the car and pulling out of her driveway. “And yeah, let’s be independent together,” I add in a sarcastic tone.

        Candy gleams and flashes a grin at me. The high school is transformed when we get there. Balloons tied around trees in the parking lot. Cars painted with colorful tints and “PROM 2K14” scribbled all over. Our small town high school had the choice of doing it at the local country club or in the good old sweat-smelling gym and for a good amount of time, we were going to go to have prom in the country club. Only it was way beyond everyone’s budgets. Besides, it’s about having fun not where we are.

            “Let’s do this!” Candy shouts with excitement. She pumps her fist in the air as we get out of the car and I wish I was feeling the same thing. The feeling before I bumped into Mark. I don’t know why it feels like there’s a big rock in my chest.

            We run into a couple of classmates at the entrance and as soon as we walk in, a nostalgic feeling hits me. It reminds me of my first homecoming in high school. I remember dancing with Karen and trying to get Peter to dance with me even though he wouldn’t. Spilling punch on my shoes and then laughing in the bathroom with Karen.

            And despite everything in my life, I’ve forgotten…I’m growing up.

        This will be my last high school dance.

        There’s something in this thought—this feeling—that just makes me want to stand there and soak up all the memories of high school. Crumpled papers, rushing to class, endless nights of homework, procrastinating, laughing, crying, smiling, having fun, being stressed, the feeling of acing a test. Everything about this will be gone soon. And surprisingly, I think I’ll miss it.   

        “Candy,” I say. My voice sounds choked. Stupid.

        “Oh my gosh, did you see Kevin—” She turns and something in my face must say it all because she gives me a hug. “Hey, why so sad? If it’s about your mom or Lee, it’ll get better, okay?”

        I hug her back. “No, it’s not them.” I take in a deep breath. “Candy, this is our last high school dance. And I think I might actually miss it.”

        She pulls away, still holding me by the arms, and grins. “Of course, we’ll miss it, Ivory! It’s only natural. High school is all we’ve ever known, but trust me, once we get to college, it’ll be like embarking on a new adventure! I’m scared shitless but that doesn’t mean we can just sit here and be depressed all day. Because this is our last high school dance, we should live it up tonight, okay?”

        When did my best friend become a motivational speaker? I grin. “Hell yeah!”

            The night begins. There’s sweat and dance and drinks (only punch because nobody wanted to risk bringing in alcohol) and music. I’ve never been much of a dancer but hell, it’s actually pretty fun. I dance in ways where churches would ban me. Candy and I are high off of fun and we’re laughing so much. I even talk to Karen and throw in a couple of jokes and we mingle. High school is ending, who gives a fuck about social boundaries? The thing between Karen and I feels like years ago.

            “Hey Ivory,” says this dude who’s been in AP History with me all year. “Wanna dance?”

            He’s cute and nice so I say, “Yeah, sure!”

            It’s hysterically fun. The guy’s name is apparently Alex and I can’t believe I haven’t talked to him all year. The guy is hilarious. Funny how many people I’ve never talked to turn out to be pretty cool.

            “Thanks for the dance,” I say when the song ends. Alex grins and walks away.

            Suddenly, a slow song comes on.

            “Fuck,” I whisper. Now I’m getting lonely. Couples all around me find each other and start swaying gently. Guys have their hands on girls’ hips and girls lean their heads onto their partner’s chest. Looks straight out of a movie.

            “Same,” Candy says, reappearing by my side. Her hair is messy, already out of its bun and lipstick faded. “Stupid couple shit.”

            We both sigh and stand in the darker side of the gym just watching couples whisper and smile. It’s sickeningly cute. I should’ve told Lee. I should’ve. Candy sits by my side on the bleachers and we both laugh after a while. We’re so pathetic but at least we have each other.

            Her boobs start vibrating and Candy pulls out her cell. “Brent?” She gives me the one-moment sign and scurries out of the gymnasium.

            About what I said earlier? Just kidding, I’m alone.

            I pull out my phone and play some games as I wait for the song to end. When it does, another plays and I groan. My finger works on its own and suddenly I’m tapping to send a message to Lee. i’m lonely.

            Why? I’m here, he replies.

            i miss you.

            You hormonal teenage girl. You just want my physical attributes.

            do not, I type. ok maybe but i rlly do miss u… and why do u type like an eighty year old man, u oldie !

            Why do you type so bad? Another ping. How bad do you miss me? ;)

            “Ivory?”

            hold on some dude is calling my name brb, I send before looking up. I wish I hadn’t. It’s Peter Jones in the flesh, holding a drink in his hand. From the smell of it, I can tell he’s already put a little something from home in it. His hair is disheveled and his coat and bow-tie gone. His shirt is buttoned down low enough to see his chest hair. How nice.

            “Peter,” I say, prepping my eyes for major eye rolling. “What now?”

            He licks his lips and blinks fast. “I-I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

            “I’m doing fine.” I cross my arms. “Great, actually.”

            “Then why are you here alone?”

            I swallow. Candy is still taking Brent’s call and the dance floor is full of couples. “Because I can,” I tell him. Why do I have to tell him why I’m alone? It’s my choice to be.

            “Oh,” he says. He takes a seat too close to me. Ew. “That’s cool.”

        “What about you? Where’s your bimbo of the night?”

        Peter turns his head to me and glares. “Hey, you don’t have to insult her.”

        I sigh. He’s right. I need to stop getting so worked up over the sight of Peter. I’m sure the date he’s brought is nice so I shouldn’t insult her either without knowing her. “I’m sorry,” I admit, “I’m still kind of mad.”

        “About?”

        I roll my eyes. “Everything about you.”

        Peter takes a sip—gulp—of his drink and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Flores. I fucked up bad.”

        “Yeah.”   

        Silence. Well, except for the slow music which just adds to the awkwardness.

        He hands me his drink. “Want a sip?”

         I scrunch my nose up. “Um, no. And Peter, please quit acting like we’re friends.”

        “I want us to be.”

        “That ship sailed a long time ago, Jones.”

        “Did you just call me Jones? Like old times?”

        “No.” It just slipped out, really. I still hate him. But I take the drink he’s offering. “God, all your whining is making me want to get drunk. Shut up, please.”

        A slow grin eases itself onto his face. “Okay.”

        “Don’t grin at me. I still hate your fucking guts, Peter.”

        The grin disappears. I almost feel bad. If only he weren’t such a prick. “Flores, listen to me,” he says. “That night at your house, I was pretty drunk and fucked in the head. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. I called you a bitch. I said I was a king—god, do you know how pathetic I sound even now remembering it? Anyways, I heard you were at that party and I should’ve just waited till I was sober to see you but I didn’t and I just had a whole word vomit session. I wasn’t thinking.”

        “Because you don’t have a brain.” I look at him and he’s watching me already. The eyes I fell for a long time ago. The hands I wanted to hold. He’s the same but he isn’t. “But carry on, I’m listening.”

        “You’re not the bitch. I am. I’m a fucking coward asshole and I deserve nothing but pain and suffering. But what I said, some of it was true.” He takes another gulp.

        “Which part?” I ask. Peter reaches and takes my hand. I pull away quickly. “Too fast. Take it easy. I’m listening, but I never said I forgave you.”

        He looks hurt but nods and looks down at his drink. “I did like you, Ivory. A lot. I was going to tell you, I swear I was, but Karen happened and I didn’t know you liked me back as much as I thought you did. And I was always waiting—waiting, waiting, waiting for you to do something, for something to happen. It was stupid and I was stupid. I should’ve done something—told you, kissed you, I don’t