I bit my lip to keep from crying.
Hoarsely, he said, “I need you to know that no matter what happens, it was worth it to me. Being with you, loving you. It was all worth it.” Then he said, “I wish you both the best. Take good care of each other.”
I had to fight every instinct in me not to reach out, not to touch the bruise that was blooming on his left cheekbone. Conrad wouldn’t want me to. I knew him well enough to know that.
He came up and kissed me on my forehead, and before he stepped away, I closed my eyes and tried hard to memorize this moment. I wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then, how his arms looked brown against his white shirt, the way his hair was cut a little too short in the front. Even the bruise, there because of me.
Then he was gone.
Just for that moment, the thought that I might never see him again … it felt worse than death. I wanted to run after him. Tell him anything, everything. Just don’t go. Please just never go. Please just always be near me, so I can at least see you.
Because it felt final. I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. That no matter what, we would be connected—by our history, by this house. But this time, this last time, it felt final. Like I would never see him again, or that when I did, it would be different, there would be a mountain between us.
I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was to feel so much grief.
Bye Bye, Birdie.
Chapter Fifty-six
It was Valentine’s Day. I was sixteen, and he was eighteen.
It fell on a Thursday that year, and Conrad had classes until seven on Thursdays, so I knew we wouldn’t be going on a date or anything. We’d talked about hanging out on Saturday, maybe watching a movie, but neither of us mentioned Valentine’s Day. He just wasn’t a flowers and candy hearts kind of guy. No big deal. I’d never been that kind of girl either, not like Taylor was.
At school the drama club delivered roses during fourth period. People had been buying them all week during lunch. You could have them sent to whoever you wanted. Freshman year, neither of us had boyfriends, and Taylor and I secretly sent each other one.
That year, her boyfriend, Davis, sent her a dozen pink ones, and he bought her a red headband she’d been eyeing at the mall. She wore the headband all day.
I was up in my room that night, doing homework, when I got a text from Conrad. It said, Look out your window. I’d gone to look, thinking there might be a meteor shower that night. Conrad kept track of that kind of thing.
But what I saw was Conrad, waving at me from a plaid blanket in my front yard. I clapped my hand to my mouth and let out a shriek. I couldn’t believe it. Then I jammed my feet into my sneakers, put my puffy coat over my flannel pajamas, and ran down the stairs so fast I almost tripped. I made a running leap off the front porch and into his arms.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” I couldn’t stop hugging him.
“I came right after class. Surprised?”
“So surprised! I didn’t think you even knew it was Valentine’s Day!”
He laughed. “Come on,” he said, leading me by my shoulders over to the blanket. There was a thermos and a box of Twinkies.
“Lie down,” Conrad said, stretching out his legs on the blanket. “It’s a full moon.”
So I lay down next to him and looked up at the inky black sky and at that shining white moon, and I shivered. Not because I was cold, but because I was happy.
He wrapped the edge of the blanket around me. “Too cold?” he asked, looking concerned.
I shook my head.
Conrad unscrewed the thermos and poured liquid into the lid. He passed it to me and said, “It’s not that hot anymore, but it might still help.”
I got up on my elbows and sipped. It was cocoa.
Lukewarm.
“Is it cold?” Conrad asked.
“No, it’s good,” I said.
Then we both lay down flat on our backs and stared up at the sky together. So many stars. It was freezing cold, but I didn’t care. Conrad took my hand, and he used it to point out constellations and connect the dots. He told me the stories behind Orion’s belt and Cassiopeia. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I already knew; my dad had taught me those constellations when I was a kid. I just loved listening to Conrad talk. He had the same wonder in his voice, the same reverence, he always had when he talked about nature and science.
“Wanna go back in?” he asked, sometime later. He warmed my hand with his.
“I’m not going in until we see a shooting star,” I answered him.
“We might not,” he said.
I wriggled next to him happily. “It’s okay if we don’t.
I just want to try.”
Smiling, he said, “Did you know that astronomers call them interplanetary dust?”
“Interplanetary dust,” I repeated, liking the feel of the words on my tongue. “Sounds like a band.”
Conrad breathed hot air on my hand, and then he put it in his coat pocket. “Yeah, it kinda does.”
“Tonight, it’s—the sky is like—” I searched for the right word to encapsulate how it made me feel, how beautiful it was. “Lying here and looking up at the stars like this, it makes me feel like I’m lying on a planet. It’s so wide. So infinite.”
“I knew you’d get it,” he said.
I smiled. His face was close to mine, and I could feel the heat from his body. If I turned my head, we’d be kissing. I didn’t, though. Being close to him was enough.
“Sometimes I think I’ll never trust another girl the way I trust you,” he said then.
I looked over at him, surprised. He wasn’t looking at me, he was still looking up at the sky, still focused.
We never did see a shooting star, but it didn’t matter to me one bit. Before the night was over, I said, “This is one of my top moments.”
He said, “Mine too.”
We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two teenagers, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. So no, he didn’t give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.
Chapter Fifty-seven
He knocked on the door once. “It’s me,” he said.
“Come in.” I was sitting on the bed. I had changed back into my dress. People would be arriving soon.
Jeremiah opened the door. He was in his linen shirt and khaki shorts. He hadn’t shaved yet. But he was dressed, and his face was unmarked, no bruises. I took that as a good sign.
