If He Had Been with Me

It snows for Valentine’s Day. I put on the snowflake tiara for school; it’s my new favorite, and I wear it every day that there is snow on the ground. I’ll have to retire it when spring comes, but like all winters, this one lasts forever.

At the bus stop, Todd the Junior gives roses to Katie the New Girl. They’re dating now; I like to think I helped make that happen. Because Finny and Sylvie no longer talk, the three of us listen to them every morning instead. It isn’t as bad.

Katie smiles and looks at her roses as she talks. I know that Jamie will be waiting for me at school with a similar bunch. Jamie always gives me roses, usually red. Sometimes I wish he would be more creative, but it is ridiculous to complain about roses. Lots of girls at school wish they were the ones Jamie was bringing roses to.

Jamie is taking me out to dinner tonight. His gift is at home, waiting for me to give to him. I collected for him an assortment of little things I thought he would like; a CD I burned of songs that make me think of him, the action figure of his favorite anime character’s wife, some candy, a little rubber turtle, a love letter I spent forever on.

When we hear the bus rumbling down the road, I realize that Finny isn’t here yet. I look down the sidewalk toward our houses. He isn’t running to get to the bus stop on time; he isn’t anywhere I can see. The bus begins to slow in front of us.

“Is Finn coming to school today?” Sylvie says. It takes me a second to realize she might be talking to me. I look over my shoulder. She is looking at me.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Is he sick?”

“I don’t know,” I repeat.

“Oh.”

We line up to climb onto the bus.

I slide into the seat next to Sasha. She’s wearing an army jacket that she bought at a garage sale we went to last fall. I envy the jacket. I know which tiara I would wear with it, but Jamie told me he wouldn’t like me in it. He said it works for Sasha because she’s boyish, but he likes me feminine. I think about telling Sasha that Sylvie asked me about Finny; she would be surprised that she spoke to me, but something makes me hold off.

“I know what Jamie got you for Valentine’s Day,” Sasha says. I think I probably do too.

***

In the afternoon, I get off the bus thinking of my date with Jamie. We’re going to a new Italian restaurant. I’m excited to give him my present. When I get home, I’m going to take a nap and then a shower. My outfit is already lying out. I wonder if I should wear a different tiara for dinner.

“Autumn?” Sylvie says. I stop and turn. She is standing behind me, looking directly at me. Still, if she hadn’t said my name, I would have had a hard time believing she was talking to me again.

“Yes?” I say. I wonder if she can hear the suspicion as well as the surprise in my voice. She looks nervous.

“Could you give this to Finn for me?” Sylvie says. She holds out a square, pink envelope.

“Okay,” I say. I gingerly take it from her. Our fingers do not touch.

“Thanks,” she says. I look at her to see if there will be something else. She looks at me silently. After a while, I turn and walk down the sidewalk. A second later, I hear her follow behind. I do not turn my head when she crosses the street. I’ll do as she asks, but she doesn’t need to know that I’m curious, that I care.

Finny’s car is in the driveway; his mother’s is not. Even though I could just open the back door and call his name, I go to the front door and knock; something about this transaction inclines me to formality. A moment after my knock, I see the curtains rustle, and I catch a glimpse of his hand.

“Just a sec.” His voice comes through the door too muffled for me to judge the tone. I wait on the other side. I hear him mumble something as the door creaks open. I start at the sight of him, and the part of my mind that is still thinking hopes he doesn’t notice.

Finny’s chest is bare, his arms, shoulders, and stomach all smoothly exposed to me. His skin is hairless except for a patch around his navel that trails down to the band of his boxer shorts, barely showing above his jeans. His blue eyes are sleepy, circled in gray, and his blond hair is tussled every which way. His nose is red, but it’s hard to judge against the blush that is spreading across his face. I realize I have been standing here silently staring at him.

“Um, Autumn?” he says. I can hear now how scratchy and stuffed up his voice sounds. I swallow and take a breath, my first one since he opened the door.

“Sorry,” I say. “You just look awful.” He looks beautiful.

“I feel awful,” he says. He shifts his weight to his other foot. “Are you supposed to be checking on me?”

“No—well, maybe, I don’t know.” I reach into my back pocket and hold out the pink envelope. His expression is startled, then confused. His eyes are cautious as he takes it from me. He looks at me suspiciously. “Sylvie asked me to give this to you,” I say. He is startled again.

“Sylvie?” he says. I nod. “Oh. Okay.” His voice is strangely monotone. He looks at the envelope and then at me. “Did she say anything else to you?”

“Nope,” I say. He frowns.

“Was she friendly?” he says. I frown too.

“I…guess,” I say.

“Hmm.”

We look at each other. I realize that I am tracing the lines of his shoulders and arms with my eyes. I look down and focus on his bare feet.

“Well, you’re probably cold,” I say. “And I have a date so…” I shrug.

“Oh, right,” Finny says. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You too, I guess…feel better.” I turn away without raising my eyes to him again. I don’t hear the door close until I’m off the porch and halfway across the lawn.

My nap is foiled by my memory of the porch. I lie on my side on the bed, facing away from the window, and try to put it out of my mind.

I know that it’s normal to still find other people attractive when you’re in love; what bothers me is the melting, dizzy feeling that overpowered me when I saw him. It wasn’t just attraction but some combination of lust and affection that had me longing to lean into his chest and smooth down his unruly hair. I could even see it: my head on his shoulder, looking up at him as my fingers reached up to caress his hair. I imagined that his skin would be hot, feverish, and I would soak up the heat as I felt every line of his body that I had admired pressing into me.

Because of course, in this fantasy, he was holding me, caressing me back.

Wanting me back.

I am horrible and ungrateful; Jamie is better than I deserve.

And even as I curse myself for my selfishness, another selfish thought is crowding my mind, that I’m wasting what happiness I could have.

I love Jamie and he wants to stay with me forever. He buys me presents and calls me his pretty girl. He’s gorgeous and smart and funny and I should be perfectly content, or even better than content.

But I’m not because this preoccupation with Finny keeps me from fully immersing myself in my love for Jamie. Keeps me from being as happy as I could be. Should be.

I want to pull Finny out of my mind like a splinter so that I can adore Jamie the way he deserves to be adored.

And even more than that, because I am a selfish, bad creature, I want to feel that adoration. I want to be free of this guilt.

***

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Jamie says as if it is a stupid question. I watch him rummage through the bag and smile to myself. The restaurant is crowded and loud; I barely hear the tissue paper ripping. Jamie laughs and leans across the table to give me a kiss. “You are the best girlfriend,” he says.

“I try,” I say.