I would leave. I would let them live their lives.
And the baby and I, we would live ours, somewhere far away from Green Hill.
I observed the scene in Frankie’s from the passenger seat of Jesse’s truck, glad that it was dark, that no one would see me staring in, slouched in my seat like some Peeping Tom. I hadn’t been in once since I’d quit. Frankie had seemed sad to let me go, but I could see the relief in his face, too. He was devoutly Catholic, and I’m sure that having a mockery of his much-beloved Mary running around the restaurant wasn’t sitting well with his conscience. My decision to leave was a favor for both of us.
But Jesse and Gracie had both wanted Frankie’s pizza to ring in New Year’s. I went along for the ride, and that was as far as I’d go. I could see Jesse in the long line for the register, waving and making small talk with Frankie and the guys in the back. Two heavily bundled-up customers turned away from the crowd to leave, tall stacks of pizza boxes in their arms.
As they walked through the lot and got closer to the truck, I realized with a stomach-turning lurch whom I was watching.
Izzy.
And Nate.
Izzy and Nate, together, carrying enough pizza for Nate’s annual New Year’s house party. I shimmied down lower in the seat until only my eyes and forehead were above window level, my face pushed up against the glass for a better view.
They had stayed close after all, even if their cafeteria interactions had seemed limited. That was for the public, maybe, and the private was a different story. Their moment together in the hallway, after Nate’s argument with Jesse—I had been right to read into Izzy’s power to instantly calm him. There was something there, more than they wanted to let on to anyone else.
Nate balanced his boxes on the hood of his car, which was parked only a space away from where I was sitting. I wanted to pinch myself for not noticing it there sooner, after all the hours I’d spent riding around in it.
Nate opened the car door and waited as Izzy loaded her boxes into the backseat, adding his to the pile after she stepped back. He snapped the door shut and turned to her, his now empty hands grabbing at Izzy’s waist, pulling her closer in a gesture that looked nauseatingly familiar. She didn’t flinch or step back. The touch was normal, expected. Wanted. She let herself lean against him and tilted her face up, meeting his as he curved his head down to reach her. Their lips brushed, softly at first, and then more demanding, her hands reaching to circle his neck and pull him in deeper. A car door slammed from somewhere across the lot, and they pulled apart, each moving away so quickly that I almost could believe that the last thirty seconds hadn’t happened. The kiss had been some trick of the eye, my imagination taking advantage of the dim lighting.
It had happened, though. It definitely had, and I’d probably suspected it on some level all along. Nate and Izzy had always gotten on so well. Maybe too well, since they had more in common with each other than either ever did with me. They liked the same sports and the same movies and TV shows, even had the same favorite kind of pizza—way too extra-extra pepperoni for any normal person. They were both so outgoing, always making friends so effortlessly, and they both plowed through life like nothing ever scared them. I’d just been some unnecessary middleman, and the big falling out had finally made them realize what and who had always been there.
I wanted fresh air to stop the sweaty chills that were wracking my body, the ache that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. But Nate and Izzy were still parked just feet away, and I refused to be caught. I tried my deep breathing trick, inhaling and forcing myself to count the seconds, but it didn’t work. My mind was too thick and muddy to focus.
The driver’s-side door clicked open with a burst of cold air and I jumped, my heart pounding at the sudden movement.
“Oh my God, Jesse!” I yelled, gasping for breath. “You scared the absolute shit out of me.”
His smiling face seemed to fold in on itself. “Um . . . I’m sorry? I should have knocked?”
“No, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” I said quickly, already embarrassed by my rudeness. I was the one who had been too busy staring at Izzy and Nate to pay attention.
Izzy and Nate. I whipped my head back around toward their car, just then realizing that I’d come out of hiding, sitting upright in a fully lit interior.
Nate was looking toward the street, but Izzy’s eyes were locked straight on mine. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t frowning, either. Her mouth was a straight, unreadable line. There was nothing there for me to read, not a trace of the easy communication we’d always had in the past. Nate looked front, then back, as he started pulling the car out of the lot, still oblivious to the blazing cord linking me to Izzy. I wouldn’t look away, not before she did. She refused, too, and we stared until the car was too far gone and our necks couldn’t twist any farther.
“So you saw them?” Jesse asked, hesitant.
I nodded, my face still turned toward the window. My eyes couldn’t seem to unstick themselves from the space where Nate’s car had just been, where Izzy had just been.
“I’m not upset that I saw Nate kissing someone else,” I said, feeling that I had to justify myself to Jesse. I sucked my lips in and bit down, refusing to give in to the tears threatening to spill out. “I’m upset that they can still be so close, when they both chose to be cut off from me. It makes me feel like they never cared about me that much after all, like I’m just so completely easy to let go of. I’m so easy to lose.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, Mina. I’m sure they miss you, they just never wanted to let you see that. They didn’t want to seem weak.”
I didn’t say anything else during the drive home, and I barely said two words while we ate dinner with Gracie around the coffee table in the living room. But I kept catching Jesse glancing over at me with a worried expression on his face, and I tried my best to shake it off for the rest of the night. I was fine then, or at least seemed to be fine, once I set my mind to ignoring that kiss, which I had already replayed at least a hundred times since it’d happened. I pulled out Candy Land and was the loudest, most enthusiastic of the three of us, insisting that we play round after round. It wasn’t until after the Funfetti cupcakes and sparkling cider, and after Gracie had passed out sprawled across the sofa, that I could feel the gnawing ache starting up again—the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach that made me feel as if I had lost Izzy all over again.
Jesse kept trying to pull me out of it, making running witty commentary on the New Year’s Eve live performances and Times Square coverage we had on the TV, poking at my belly and whispering little jokes to the baby. The baby must have been in a strange mood, too, based on the flurry of kicking and squirming around I could feel all night. I usually loved the feeling, the reminder that this little person was actually there inside of me, but it felt like too much at the moment—I wanted to just be selfish, to be alone and sulky if that was how I felt, and Jesse and the baby were both making that impossible.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Nate’s party. It was hard to believe that only a year ago I was in the center of all of it, glued to Nate’s side for the entire night as the hostess of the evening. He had yanked me away just before midnight, pushed me into the small, pitch-black laundry closet so that we could have our midnight kiss alone, away from the rest of the party. “I want this moment to be just about you and me,” he had whispered, just before giving me the slowest, warmest, most tingly and amazing kiss we’d ever shared.