Definitely, Maybe in Love
: Part 3 – Chapter 29

Julia lowered the pages of yellow paper and stared at me. “Alex did…this?”

I nodded, fingering my pillow case.

“It’s almost unbelievable.” She glanced over her shoulder, like she feared we might be overheard. But we were alone in my bedroom. Door closed, ladder reeled in. “Do you think it’s true?”

“It has to be,” I said. “For Henry to divulge this, especially about his sister.” I gestured at the three pages of his note in her hand, the pages she’d just read about his history with Alex Parks, the ones I’d read a dozen times since replaceing them the night before.

The other two pages of the note—the ones regarding Julia and Dart—were tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. Julia knew nothing about them, and I wasn’t sure when I should tell her or if I should tell her. I hadn’t told her anything about Dart yet.

Not even a week had passed since I’d returned home from spring break with the knowledge that Henry’d had a hand in their breakup. I’d read his explanation in the letter several times, but it still galled me. It was either a colossal misunderstanding (which I did not believe in) or Henry Knightly was a terrible judge of character and a huge buttinsky. Though that was a bit implausible, too, I had to admit.

“You’re sure he’s talking about Alex?” Julia asked. “He didn’t use any name in the letter but yours.”

“I’m positive. He left it in a study room where we were supposed to meet. I’m not surprised he was cryptic. He knew that I’d know who he was talking about.”

Julia frowned. “So you think Alex is capable of what Henry says?”

It took exactly two seconds for me to consider. “Absolutely. Even when we were hanging out last September, something about him rubbed me the wrong way.” I took the pages and held them up. It was like I needed to repeat the details aloud one last time. “The story about Henry he’s been shooting around, he twisted the facts. They both admitted they used to be really close friends in high school, but Henry did not nark on Alex for cheating. Alex was about to flunk out and got caught stealing files off Henry’s computer. That’s why he got expelled.”

“And blamed Henry for not lying for him,” Julia added.

“I don’t know how anyone can be so ballsy, telling flat-out lies. And now, to know he did that…” I passed her the three pages in case she needed a refresher.

“Took off with Henry’s fifteen-year-old sister and got her pregnant, just to get back at him,” she completed for me.

I winced at her words, picturing what I thought Cami Knightly might look like as a fifteen-year-old, three years ago, going through one of the worst things a young woman possibly could, and then giving up a baby she was never meant to have.

Julia took in a shuddery inhale, as if she was thinking the same thing.

“According to Henry’s letter, that was the beginning of his pattern,” I said. “And he would know, he’s known Alex for years and his M.O. He takes girls—after he severely impairs them, or replaces them severely impaired—to some, I don’t know, some honeymoon cabin at the beach. It’s date rape but on steroids. Sleeping with girls either too young or too wasted to know what they’re doing, then bragging about never using protection. What kind of sicko does that?”

“I heard that around campus,” Julia admitted, tugging at her hair. “But I just couldn’t believe it.” She’d grown thinner the last few months, paler, too.

We sat on my bed and talked for another hour, dissecting the words of the letter that I had practically memorized.

“When I think of what Henry’s family’s been through…” I said, feeling queasy all over again. “And I’m sure my hanging out with Alex hurt him, too.”

“How were you supposed to know?” Julia said. “Did Henry breathe one word of it to you before now?”

“I think he tried,” I admitted. “But I wouldn’t listen.” I fell back on the bed and flung an arm over my eyes. “Read me the bottom of the last page,” I requested.

“Are you sure?” I moved my arm long enough to give her a look. She cleared her throat. “‘Spring.’ He has very nice penmanship, doesn’t he?”

I shot her another look.

“‘Spring,’” she began again, reading the end of Henry’s letter. “’You are the most intelligent, talented and resolute person I have ever known. Your loyalty to your friends and your absolute sense of self overwhelms me. As I’ve sat in this room, waiting for you to arrive and then realizing you’re not going to, I’ve taken stock of the situation, and this is what I’ve come away with: I want you to know how much of a pleasure it was to have had you in my life. You changed me, Spring. Know that, if nothing else. Know that you made me smile and trust and see the future like I never have. Wherever you go in life and whatever causes you choose to undertake will be fortunate to have you. I wish you great success with wherever life takes you.’”

I felt tears clinging to the corners of my eyes as I stared up at the ceiling.

“It sounds like a good-bye,” Julia said, folding the pages.

“It was.” I sniffled. “That last night, he told me he was thinking about doing the rest of the semester online. My text to him bounced back, so either he’s somewhere too remote for his cell to get reception, or it’s disconnected.” I rolled over. “He talked about Switzerland and Tahiti and he has all the money in the world, so who knows where he is.”

“I’m sorry,” Julia whispered, stroking my arm.

I looked at her, at her sad smile. “How are you doing, bunny?”

“Better, I think.” She didn’t sound all that convincing. “Really.” She slid back against the wall, pulled her long legs into her arms and rested her chin on her knees. “I’m over Dart. I’ve moved on.”

“That’s good,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I still wasn’t sure if I should tell her everything I knew. If she claimed she was over Dart, would that help now? I felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that I was lying to one of my best friends.

I rolled onto my knees and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. “Things were pretty intense there for a while,” I said. “Between you and Dart, I mean.”

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers down the side stitching of her pink sweatpants. “It was intense.”

“I didn’t know how to help you,” I admitted, trying to express the proper sentiment but knowing I was falling short. “I mean, I didn’t know what to say. Girls handle losing their virginity in different ways. I was really worried that with Dart being your first, you would flip out when he left.”

“I did flip out,” she said, her lips tipping into a tiny smile.

“Yeah, you did,” I agreed. “Maybe I expected you to flip out even more.”

“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” she added with another smile. A moment later, though, it dropped and she exhaled. “I still don’t know what happened. Something must’ve went wrong, right? We were so close, so perfect and then…” She broke off and bit her thumbnail. “Not even Anabel’s advice helped me keep him.”

I sat up. “What did Anabel tell you to do?”

“At first she told me to be all sexy with him. You saw what she gave me for Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah,” I said, remembering that black lacy whatever in the corner of her suitcase.

“It was too embarrassing. I didn’t want to pretend to be someone like that, even to get close to Dart.”

“Someone like Anabel, you mean?”

She nodded. “A few days before we all left for Christmas, I talked to her again.”

I couldn’t help groaning. Julia must’ve been truly desperate to keep going back to our promiscuous roommate for romance advice. I wished I could’ve helped her back then, but I was even more clueless.

“She told me to reel back,” Julia continued. “That to really hook a man, body and soul, I should be cold and distant. Give it to him then take it away. Brigitte Bardot, she kept telling me to Brigitte Bardot.”

“That French model from the fifties?”

“She showed me pictures of her all pouty and frowny. She looked like a snob to me, but, I don’t know, that’s what Anabel said to do, so…”

“So that’s what you did,” I said weakly, feeling for those other two pages of Henry’s letter hidden in my back pocket. It was as if the printed words were burning into my skin, yelling at me to listen as I replayed them in my mind:

“Last year, my roommate was engaged, but his fiancée cheated on him. When it all came out, she told him she’d never loved him, that it was some kind of bet. I don’t know the whole story, but I witnessed firsthand the devastation it caused. You know my friend as a pretty cheerful guy, but that person was gone for a long time. As his best friend, it was hard to watch. When he started dating your roommate so soon after, I admit, I wasn’t behind it 100 percent. But it was his life to live. She was over at our house a lot, which I didn’t mind; I thought she was a sweet girl, and she made him happy. Maybe a week before the winter break, I couldn’t help noticing that she seemed like a different person, less talkative, more withdrawn, even a little rude to him. At first I wrote it off as final exams stress, but one night she was over and I heard her talking on the phone. Someone was coaching her, telling her how to act. Maybe I’d become too protective, but it infuriated me to hear what she was planning on doing. It wasn’t fair that someone was messing with my friend again. A few days later we were leaving for winter break. He and I drove together to the airport and I told him what I’d overheard. I told him his girlfriend was playing him. What he did after that, I don’t know exactly, but I do know he wasn’t ready to go back to Stanford and live across the street from her. I’d do anything for someone I care about, so I chose to move away from campus, too.”

I heard a ringing in my ears, and my hand was shaking when I held it to my forehead. I almost couldn’t breathe, knowing what I knew now. It made sense. Henry was right, he was only thinking of his friend, trying to help. And I’d yelled at him, wouldn’t listen, didn’t believe him when he’d tried to explain.

My mind was going numb. I stared at Julia’s lowered eyes, wondering if I should come clean about everything. But would it do any good at this point? Dart was still gone. It might make everything worse.

Julia slid off the bed and stood, peering at herself in the mirror. “A few weeks ago, I was really lonely. I missed Dart so much and…” She tucked her hands under her arms, turning away from her reflection. “I…I got so angry at him. He was my first, ya know? It was supposed to be special for both of us, right?”

“Um, right,” I offered, trying to follow along. I felt so sorry for Julia. Heartbroken for her. But a corner of my heart stung for Henry now, too. He thought he’d done the right thing, even if that meant hurting his best friend. As I gazed at Julia, I understood exactly how he must have felt.

“But then I was thinking,” Julia continued, “if Dart could just up and leave like that, I guess it wasn’t so special after all.” She kicked the metal bed frame, her voice sounding more cynical than I’d ever heard, and bitter, too. “I was wondering, seriously, what’s the big deal? It’s just sex, right? But I’d built it up to be this huge monumental event, when it was basically like I was getting it over with. If it’s not special, I should walk to campus and bring some random guy home.”

My spine stiffened. This did not sound like Julia. Frankly, it sounded like Anabel. “But you won’t, right?”

She scoffed, that cynical tone still hanging on. “I’d never have the guts. Maybe I should call Alex.” She laughed darkly. “He’s got the experience and I know he’ll—”

“Julia!” I cut her off. “Don’t even joke about that.”

She blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Of course not…not Alex.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I can’t have two reckless roommates. Anabel got kicked out of a bar last week.” I reached for her hand, pulling her to sit beside me. “I need you to be my sensible one.”

Julia smiled, a real one this time. “I will,” she said, but then her posture sagged. “I still get sad sometimes,” she admitted. “Very sad.”

“What can I do?” I asked, feeling an ache in my throat.

“Nothing. Just…thank you for being here, for being such a good friend to me through all of this.”

Now was my turn to move my eyes away. I knew I’d been too wrapped up in my own drama the past few weeks to give her any real comfort. I still didn’t feel like I should tell her what I knew about Dart. Not now. I didn’t want her to flip out all over again, especially if she considered a good remedy for her blues to be picking up casual sex as a hobby.

“You have,” Julia insisted when she saw me turn away. She reached out and lifted my chin like a mother would. “And now, I want to be a friend to you.” She stared straight at me, as if she knew I was withholding information. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

I nodded, feeling a tingle creep up the back of my neck.

She leaned back, bracing her arms behind her. “Why don’t you go ahead and say it.”

I rubbed my neck, trying to dig up the right words, reaching for the pages in my pocket.

“Just tell me, Springer,” she said. “Tell me how Henry feels about you.”

She tilted her head and smiled at my totally stunned reaction. It wasn’t very often that she caught me off guard. I didn’t want to discuss what she was asking about, but my other choice was to share with her the rest of the letter. I couldn’t do that either.

“Henry,” I began. Just saying his name in this context made my heart flip. “Loves me.”

Julia exhaled like she was relieved about something. “Yeah.” She swept her scarlet hair over one shoulder. “Henry has always loved you. I could see it all over his face. You”—she pointed an accusing finger at me—“would just never look.” She laughed like a tinkling bell, the first I’d heard of it since December. I didn’t mind in the least that her good mood was at my expense.

I bit my lip, not quite as happy as I thought a girl should be while having a conversation about love. Then again, I had zero experience. “He wanted to take me to Tahiti.”

She turned somber. “How romantic.”

“I told him no. In fact, I told him to go frack himself.” I sucked in my lower lip so it wouldn’t wobble. “And then, I was so pissed that I kicked him out the door.” Dullness pressed against my chest and I sank onto the bed. “In the middle of a rain storm.”

Julia’s eyes brimmed with tears. She reached out for my hand and smiled in beautiful, commiserative silence.

This wasn’t like me. I wasn’t the kind of girl to fall apart then slump into exile over a personal crisis, especially over something as pitiful as the obliteration of an almost-relationship. Yet, here I was. The girl I mocked. Wretched and depressed. Even more broken-hearted than before.

“I feel blue.” I sighed. “What do I do?”

“You can borrow my Prozac,” she offered with a smile. “If there’s time later, we might throw in a little endless pontificating. Maybe play a little Adele?”

“Now you’re just reading my mind.”

“Or, we can always turn existential, like one of those Swedish apocalyptic films from the fifties. That should brighten our moods.”

“Okay.” I sat up, happy for the distraction. “You be the cloaked and hooded Angel of Death standing on the stormy beach, and I’ll be the vicar’s wife, banished to a life inside an isolated seaside cottage.”

Julia giggled and stood, a bottle of energy water cradled in both hands. Her expression went theatrically solemn as her eyes glazed over. “I…am the Plague of Death,” she began, monotone. “I shall hold this brim’d beverage in my memory between my hands of fate. The silence, the loooooathing, the high fructose corn syrup.” Her arms stretched out to her sides. “Never spilling,” she went on, staring straight ahead, “never waking, the prisoner of my life preposterous.” She bowed her head and fell forward onto the bed, not spilling a drop.

“And the Oscar goes to…” I said, clapping.

“All right, I gotta study,” she said as she stood and walked to the door. Halfway there, she turned back. “Can I ask you something? And don’t be afraid to tell me to butt out.”

I rolled my eyes. “What is it, bunny?”

She tucked some hair behind an ear. “When was it? I mean, when did you start changing toward Henry?” I’m sure she caught the sting that crossed my face, but for once, she didn’t back down. “Was it before Washington? Before they moved away?”

I took in a few breaths, like I was psyching myself up to cannonball off the high dive. “Yes, it was before,” I answered. “Henry and I…we could…talk. I miss it.”

“Talking’s nice.”

“It’s all we did for months. Of course we debated, too.” I exhaled a soft laugh, remembering fondly. “But the arguing wasn’t genuine, it was more like—”

“Foreplay.” She winked and left the room.