49 | growing up

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I call Peyton's therapist the next morning and schedule an appointment. According to Peyton, Dr. Bahkta is one of the most renowned psychologists in the state. Pey actually has to ask her parents to pull a few strings to get me a spot in her busy schedule. I let Pey know how much this means to me.

What happened at the fair can't happen again. I need help.

Three days after my first session with Dr. Bahkta, Violet invites me and Pey over to her house to get ready for graduation. If it were a week ago, I would have made up an excuse not to go and just gotten ready alone. But it's today, a clean slate, and I tell Violet I'll be there.

"So do you feel better?" Violet asks cheerily, curling my hair into soft ringlets. Peyton's painting her nails on the floor next to me.

"Vi, therapy doesn't work that quick. You don't just go once and come out a different person," Pey remarks.

"Honestly, I do feel a bit better. Well, not better. Just...lighter," I say. "Since it was the first session, she kind of just asked me questions about myself and let me talk. I talked that woman's ear off. It really helped get a lot off my chest."

"That's great, Riv," Peyton says. "Which color?" She holds up two bottles of nail polish. Carolina Blue and Eggshell White. Vi and I both point at Carolina Blue.

"So you just told her everything?" Vi clarifies.

"Yup. Well, she did give me one piece of advice," I respond. "She said that I seem to suppress my emotions, especially about Gray. She said that I should let myself experience those feelings. That will allow me to eventually get over them and move on."

"True shit," Pey says, covering her toenails in blue. The room starts to smell like nail polish, and I sneeze.

I continue. "I've decided to stop avoiding the thought of him. I think I need to accept the feelings I'll always have for him and try my best to move on with them."

Violet stops curling my hair for a second, making eye contact with me through the mirror. "Do you still love him."

I answer honestly. "Yes." I can't lie to myself. "I still feel like it all happened just yesterday. I can't...I can't shake him."

Vi smooths out my curls, forming beautiful waves that frame my face perfectly. The girl I see in the mirror looks sad, still nursing a broken heart, but she looks strong. Like she can get through anything, even this.

This is the girl that existed long before Gray came along. And she'll exist even when he's gone.

"It's beautiful," I say to Vi, putting my hand over hers in thanks. "Now let me do your makeup."

We switch positions so Vi's sitting in the chair. "Guess what?" Vi says.

"What?"

"I got my financial aid package from Duke yesterday. I accepted the offer," she says, smiling as I apply toner to her fair skin. "I'm going to Duke!"

"Holy shit, Vi. I'm so proud of you," Pey exclaims.

"You deserve it. We know how hard you worked for this," I tell her. "Duke better get ready. They don't know what's coming."

We laugh. Pey says, "Well, I know you've both been wondering. But I think it's finally time to tell you that I've decided to play soccer for University of North Carolina at Chap--"

"Shut up, Pey. As if you haven't been committed for a year," Vi scoffs playfully. Since she got recruited last year by UNC at Chapel Hill, Pey has never ceased to remind us that she's committed to that school. I bet our entire high school knows at this point.

"It's actually been thirteen months. But who's counting?" Peyton says. "Riv, have you made your decision yet?"

My heart sinks to the bottom of my chest. "Not yet. I still have a few more weeks to decide on a school."

I remember the last night Gray and I spent together when we talked about our future together. Lying in his bed, our lives seemed to stretch out before us, irreversibly intertwined. The thought of our futures diverging didn't even cross my mind. We were so certain about us being together.

"You have so many choices, Riv," Violet reminds me. "You could go anywhere you wanted."

"I know," I say with a smile on my face. I focus on Violet's soft skin as I glide the blender over it.

When all three of us have our hair and makeup done, Pey helps to zip me into my graduation outfit. It's a simple white wrap-dress, perfect for the occasion. Peyton and Violet slip into their white graduation attire, then we go downstairs with our caps and gowns slung over our arms.

After Vi's parents force us to pose for a few pics, we're finally off. About halfway there, it hits me: we're about to graduate high school. The first period of my life is over. We're teetering on the edge of adulthood and I'm scared shitless.

As I stand to accept my diploma and shake my principal's hand, I stop teetering and fall headfirst into the rest of my life. To everyone else, it looks like I'm walking confidently across the stage, a new adult ready for anything life throws her way.

Inside, I feel like I'm still just a confused little kid, waiting for the day that I'll finally feel ready for the rest of my life. My principal firmly shakes my hand, gives me my diploma, and it's over.

The rest of the ceremony is outrageously long, and I don't recognize half the kids who walk across the stage to get their diplomas. Nobody is allowed to clap as students walk across--something about not making less popular kids feel left out--so it's three hours of monotonous introductions by our principal.

Near the end, everyone is asked to take a moment of silence to honor the life of Trevor Lane. In my principal's words, Trevor was "a bright mind, destined to do great things, taken from us too soon." While everyone is honoring the attempted murderer, I look around to see Violet mouthing 'piece of shit' to me. I laugh quietly.

Then we throw our caps in the air, cheering as if we were happy about this cataclysmic shift in our lives.

When it finally ends, everyone migrates outside to take pictures and say goodbye to one another. I immediately find Violet and Peyton in the crowds, and we can't resist taking a few pictures of our own.

We make fun of the way our principal's pants were about two sizes too small, causing him to pick his ass every few minutes. It was probably the only entertaining thing about the whole ceremony.

Our conversation is halted when a shadow is cast behind me. From the way Violet's and Peyton's faces freeze, I can tell I don't want to turn around to see who it is.

"Hi, sweetie," my mom says, putting her hands on my shoulders. "Congratulations!"

I turn, coming face-to-face with my doting parents. My mother is wearing a floor-length dress and my father seems to have had a suit fitted just for this occasion. Of course they would overdress for my graduation.

"Hey," I say. I turn my head to Pey and Vi, telling them, "You guys should go find your parents. I'll find you later."

They both give me 'are you sure?' looks and I smile reassuringly. Together, they walk away, casting me concerned glances every few seconds.

I turn back to my parents, deciding to be courteous. "So how did you like the ceremony?"

My dad laughs. "River, we just got here. We know how long these things are, and we didn't see a point in enduring several hours just to watch you walk across the stage for a few seconds."

"But we're here now," she adds, rubbing my arm. "You look so pretty!"

"Thanks."

My dad whips out his phone. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's take a picture."

He hands his phone to a random man and wraps his arm around my shoulders, mimicking the way healthy families take pictures. After a few hundred shots, my mother releases me from her iron grip and thanks the stranger.

"Oh, yes!" Mother exclaims, looking through the photos. "I'll have to post these to my Facebook. Everyone has to know that my baby graduated. River, you look great."

"Thanks."

My dad slides his phone back into his pocket then checks his Rolex watch. "Look at the time, dear. We better get going."

He takes her arm and they start walking in the direction of the parking lot. "Wait," I yell after them. I extend the olive branch to them. "Where are you going? Vi said her parents want to take us all out to dinner afterward. Peyton's family will be there too."

My mom frowns the frown she uses when she's not actually sad. "Aw, sweetie. We wish we could stay. But the Thomases invited us to a gala tonight. We're already pushing it by making an appearance here."

An appearance. Of course. I should be honored that they took time out of their schedule to attend my high school graduation. Lucky me.

They turn and leave before I can respond, eager to get to their gala. I'm left alone in the thinning crowd of people, and I can't see Violet or Peyton anywhere in the courtyard. I itch to take out my phone to at least act like I'm busy, but my phone is in Pey's purse. I'm stranded.

My first hour as a high school graduate and I'm already feeling hopeless.

"River," a voice to my left says. Every part of me freezes as I process those words and the low voice that uttered them. All other voices around me are drowned out, irrelevant. His voice sinks into me. It can't be him.

"Why are you here?" I ask, not looking at him. The sun is setting low over the horizon, casting an orange glow over us.

Gray sighs deeply. "I knew how much today means to you. I couldn't miss it."

When I lay my eyes on him, I have to hold the surprise from my face. He looks like a different man from the one I saw last week at the hospital. There's life in his golden skin, and his face is healing from the grave injuries. He's dressed in a white dress shirt and pressed khaki slacks. He looks like my Gray.

But he's not my Gray anymore, I remind myself. I keep myself a few feet from him, just to keep my head clear.

Dr. Bahkta told me to confront my feelings and flush them out. I can't run from my emotions, nor Gray himself.

I cross my arms. "I thought today was that big race. Fifty thousand dollars." I remember the day we had this conversation so vividly. It's seared into my memory, especially the memories of what came after that dinner.

He turns his head to the side, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Not as important as this." Then he meets my gaze, and every part of me heats up.

"Did you sit through the whole thing?"

"Of course. Probably should have left ten minutes in, after you'd already walked across the stage, but--" he runs his hand through his hair "-- I couldn't bring myself to leave."

"Interesting," I say slowly. I look down at my feet, crossing them. Then I realize that these are the same black high heels I wore out to dinner with him, the ones that matched the black suit he wore. Looking up at him, I see that his hair is styled the exact same way as it was that night. These little things shouldn't matter to me.

It shouldn't be this hard just to talk to him.

"You look really good," he says. For some reason, it sounds so different from every other time he's called me beautiful, yet exactly the same.

"Thanks. You too. Your face isn't as fucked up."

Gray laughs, running his fingers over his eye and mouth, reminding himself of his wounds. "Yeah, I looked pretty bad last week, didn't I?"

I can't help the laugh that escapes me. "Yeah, you did."

Is this what we are now? Exes that have polite conversation and sometimes make each other laugh? We're both treading on foreign land, unsure of our footing, and trying to not let our raw feelings show through.

The question burns me in my throat. "So what's the story behind the busted face?"

He shoves his hands back in his pockets and looks anywhere but at me. "Bar fight."

"I didn't know you were the type to fight people in bars."

Nervous laugh. "I didn't know I was either."

Silence.

"The night before Gracie woke up, I went out just looking for trouble," Gray explains. "I just wanted a break from the numbness I was feeling. I went into a bar and found just what I was looking for."

"You let yourself get beat up just so you could feel something?" I'm taken back. I didn't know he'd spiraled so low.

He nods his head, ashamed. He continues, "My therapist thinks I blame myself for what happened to Gracie. That I'm punishing myself for it. I didn't start believing her until that night. It was kind of a wake-up call for me."

I bite my lip, processing this information. I imagine going on to Gray live his life without me, experiencing all this pain on his own. "I'm going to therapy too," I admit. "Violet said it would help me to 'un-fuck' my shit."

We both laugh, together this time. "I guess we both have some shit we need to un-fuck," he agrees. It makes me happy knowing we're both healing, albeit alone.

Then it comes. "Listen, Riv--"

"Gray, please don't do this again," I beg, stepping back. He doesn't make any moves toward me.

"I'm not going to say much. I just need to get this out." Gray drags his hand across his face, another one of his nervous ticks. His voice gets serious. "What you said to me in the parking lot last week was another wake-up call. I realized that I needed to work on myself. I realized that I've been selfish, putting the weight of my problems on your shoulders. Even when I was hurt, I had no right to hurt you like I did."

I shift on my feet.

"That day, I told you that I'm trying to be a better man. I'm still trying to be that man, but not just to get you back. I realized that being a better man means putting your needs first." He rubs the back of his hand under his eyes, but I'm too far to see any tears. "Riv, I just want you to be happy. Even if that means I'm not in the picture."

I stop breathing.

Gray is still holding my gaze. His eyes are different, clearer and more thoughtful. Still full of so much love. "If moving on from me is what you need to do, then I have to be the man who lets you walk away."

I blink hard.

"That's all I wanted to say," Gray adds. He takes one long look at me, as if committing my face to lasting memory, then turns to leave.

"Gray," I say to his back. He turns to look at me over his shoulder.

But I can't speak. A million words linger at the tip of my tongue, but none come out. I just stare at him.

Gray gives me an understanding smile, raising his hand in a small farewell. Then all I see is his back, moving further and further away from me. This feels too much like goodbye. Both times in the parking lot, we yelled and screamed and cried. But those times didn't feel like this.

So final.

The crowds are gone. The sun is setting. I hear voices behind me, calling my name.

But I keep my eyes trained forward, watching as he shrinks to nothing but a long shadow above the darkening horizon.

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