I woke the morning of Amber’s graduation party with what felt like an anvil resting on my chest. It was early June, and things had continued to be good between us—we’d been texting at least a few times a week since I last saw her at Christmas, keeping each other informed of any important, or unimportant, details of our lives, talking about her school and my work and the latest idiot my mother was dating. But the text she sent me yesterday turned my skin to shrink wrap.
“Daniel asked me to marry him,” she said. “And I said yes.” She wanted me to know before I saw them today, at her parents’ house, for her celebration. “I just got off the phone with my mom and dad, and I wanted to make sure you heard it from me, first.”
“Wow. I’m happy for you guys,” I managed to respond, despite the wailing siren going off inside my head. “Congratulations.” I knew that was all I could say. That anything else would be pointless.
“Thanks,” she said, followed by a smiley face emoji.
“Can’t wait to meet him,” I said. Amber’s boyfriend—fiancé, I corrected myself—would only be visiting Bellingham for a couple of days before he started summer session at the University of Washington in Seattle. “He’s a total overachiever,” Amber had told me a few weeks ago. “He enrolled in a couple of seminars that his adviser said would help jump-start his first year in med school.” Amber planned to spend the summer at home, working to save money, and then join Daniel in the fall.
Now, almost twenty-four hours after she told me the news, I sat up and gripped the edge of my mattress. Amber is getting married. To Daniel. I took a deep breath, and the muscles in my chest pulled so tight I was afraid they might snap. I wondered if Whitney was home, and then remembered that spring quarter at WWU was over. She had already gone back to her parents’ house for the summer.
I rolled out of bed, pacing back and forth between my small bedroom and living room, trying to return my pulse to normal. “Fuck it,” I said aloud, to my empty apartment. If I couldn’t get laid, I needed another way to force my spiking adrenaline into submission. I had taken the day off for Amber’s party, which didn’t start until three, so I pulled on a pair of jogging shorts, a T-shirt, and my sneakers, then grabbed my iPhone and keys, heading out the front door.
Only ten minutes into my run, my breathing was labored and my hamstrings were screaming at me to quit. But I dug my fingernails into my palms and pushed myself to keep going. It was a slightly overcast, cool, early June day, and still, beads of sweat gathered on my forehead and rolled into my eyes, causing them to sting. I wiped at them, stopping to jog in place on a busy street corner, waiting for the walk signal. I caught an attractive blond girl staring at me, and I immediately thought about how easy it would be to ask her to go out for coffee, then invite her to come to Amber’s party. Maybe that would make meeting Daniel easier, having a date with me. A few flattering words, a few suggestive jokes—that was all it would take. As introverted as I had been as a teenager, as an adult, I never had a problem getting girls. Things changed significantly when my body filled out. And while I was still fairly quiet, most women tended to assume that my lack of wordy machismo meant I was the strong silent type, in search of a soul mate. But with how often I struggled with anxiety, I didn’t feel very strong. And the truth was I didn’t need to search—I already knew who my soul mate was.
Now, the blond girl smiled at me, and then ducked her head down. Flirting. But just as I was about to say hello, I realized how retaliatory and desperate bringing a stranger to Amber’s party would make me seem—like “oh, look, you might be engaged, but here’s a pretty girl I picked up on a street corner this morning!” I gave the girl quick, friendly nod, and then headed across the street, pumping my arms and lengthening my stride. I ran until I didn’t think I could keep going. And then I ran some more.
When I finally returned to my apartment, my head was clear and my legs were shaking and weak, but the pressure in my chest was gone. I reveled in being able to take in deep, satisfying breaths. A few hours later, after a nap and a shower, I was on my way to Amber’s house, the present I had wrapped for her resting on the passenger seat of my truck. I parked on the street, the buzz of music and conversation already overflowing from the backyard. Grabbing her gift, I slowly made my way down the driveway and opened the gate to find a small gathering of the Bryants’ friends—people Helen worked with at the elementary school, Tom’s coworkers from his office, and a few teachers from Sehome High School, none of whom seemed to notice me arrive.
My dad’s voice was the first one I heard. “Ty, my boy!” he called out. “Come meet Layla!” I glanced toward where he sat, on the patio near the bar—of course—with a dark-haired woman who looked to be in her late thirties. She wore a too-tight, low-cut black dress. She sat in a lawn chair next to my dad, who had one arm around her shoulders, his thick fingers dangling over her ample cleavage. In his other hand, he held a beer.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, holding up the gift I carried in greeting. “Let me put this inside first. Say hi to Amber and her parents.” And Daniel, I thought, grinding my molars together until they squeaked. Don’t forget about Daniel.
My dad nodded, and I walked from the gate to the French doors that led inside the kitchen, where I found my mom and Helen standing next to the counter, their backs to me.
“Can you believe he brought that woman?” my mom said. “She looks like a hooker.” My mom had had ten years to get used to the parade of women in and out of my dad’s life, so it was likely that she was angrier with herself for not bringing a date than with my dad for bringing his.
Helen shook her head. “I’m sorry. I told you Tom ran into him at the hardware store the other day, and when Jason asked when Amber would be home from school, he felt like he had to invite him. You know I’d never—”
I cleared my throat, not wanting to hear more. They both turned, and my mother came over to hug me. “Hi, honey,” she said, standing on her tiptoes in order to give me a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”
“Good,” I said. “Where should I put this?” I held up a small box, nothing expensive or flashy, but a gift that I hoped that Amber would like. I hoped it would mean something to her.
“Oh, aren’t you sweet,” Helen said. “The dining room table would be great. And I think Amber and Daniel are with Tom out in the living room.” She paused. “Did you hear the news?”
“I did,” I said, purposely keeping my tone light. “Amber texted me yesterday.”
“He’s just a doll,” my mom said. “So smart. And handsome! Amber sure knows how to pick them.”
“I have no doubt,” I said, faking a smile. I’d never discussed my feelings for Amber with my mom, though from the sympathetic look on Helen’s face, I suspected that Amber had discussed them with hers. Heat rose in my cheeks.
“I think you’ll like him,” Helen said.
“I’m sure I will,” I said, hoping this would be true. Hoping that I could at least pretend for the duration of the party that I hadn’t spent the last nine months, since learning of his existence, silently wishing that he would screw up somehow and the relationship would end. Amber had dated other guys over the years, but none as long as Daniel. And now they were engaged and I worried that I’d lost my chance to change her mind about me.
I headed into the dining room, where I set Amber’s present on the table, then proceeded into the living room, where I saw Amber standing with her dad and a tall, tan guy with black hair. Amber’s fingers were laced through his.
“Hey,” I said, forcing another smile.
“Tyler!” Amber said, letting go of her fiancé’s hand to come over and hug me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I hugged her, and a familiar sensation of arousal and longing rushed over me. Stop it, I told myself. Just knock it the fuck off.
“Come here,” she said, pulling back and grabbing me by the hand. She led me over to where her father and fiancé stood. “Daniel, this is Tyler. Tyler, Daniel.”
“Nice to finally meet you, bro,” Daniel said, holding out his hand for me to shake.
“You, too.” I gripped his fingers maybe a little too tightly before I let them go, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“How’s it going, Ty?” Tom asked. He put his stocky arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Can you believe our girl is all graduated?”
“It’s pretty great,” I said, nodding my head.
“Like you were expecting me not to?” Amber said in a teasing voice. She looked up at her dad, who kissed her on the forehead.
“I expect you to kick ass at whatever you decide to do,” he said.
“Aw, thanks, Pops,” Amber said, giving her dad an adoring look.
“So,” I said. “I hear other congratulations are in order.” I smiled at Daniel, who nodded.
“I’m a lucky guy,” he said.
“The luckiest,” Amber agreed, and we all laughed. She held out her left hand to show me the ring, a small but sparkling round diamond on a silver band. “What do you think?” Her eyes were wide, a little worried, I suspected, that I might not be as happy for them as I seemed. After my behavior last August, I couldn’t blame her, but I’d worked hard since Christmas to act nothing other than supportive of their relationship. “If you’re happy,” I’d told her, more than once, “so am I.”
“Very nice,” I said about the ring now.
“Amber tells me you’re a paramedic,” Daniel said. “One of my cousins in Denver does the same thing. I admire the hell out of you guys.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But you, heading off to become a doctor. That’s something to admire.” I’m doing this for your sake, I wanted to tell Amber. I’m going to be nice to him. I’m going to be welcoming and friendly all because of you. But even as I thought this, I couldn’t help but concede that, so far, Daniel was a likable guy. However much I hated to admit it, I could see why Amber fell for him.
“Thanks, man,” Daniel said.
“Well!” Tom exclaimed, drawing away from Amber. He rubbed the palms of his thick hands together. “I’d better go fire up the grill if we’re going to eat anytime tonight.” He clapped me on the back and pulled me into a quick side hug. “Good to see you, Son. Don’t be such a stranger. You know Amber doesn’t have to be here for you to come see us.”
“I know,” I said. “Thanks.” I watched as he headed through the arched doorway which led to the dining room and into the kitchen, then out the back door. Not for the first time, I wished that my dad was more like Tom—affable, laid-back, and easy to talk to—qualities my own father had never possessed.
“Did you see your dad?” Amber asked me as she scooted over next to Daniel again. “And his date?” She screwed up her face, raising a single, questioning eyebrow. There were a hundred meanings behind that one expression, years of conversations about the complicated nature of my relationship with my dad.
I suppressed a sigh. “Yep. On my way in. They seem very . . . content.”
“No girlfriend for you, man?” Daniel asked.
I cringed a little at the continued use of “man” and “bro” at the ends of Daniel’s sentences. I was nit-picking, I knew, but it was irritating. “Nope,” I said. “I was seeing a girl in my building, but she went back to Bellevue to live with her parents for the summer.”
“Wait, what?” Amber said. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
I shrugged. “You didn’t ask.” I only mentioned Whitney because I knew the chance of Amber ever meeting her was basically zero. I just didn’t want her or Daniel to think that, when I wasn’t working, I spent all of my time alone—the poor, pathetic, miserable bachelor.
“I shouldn’t have to!” Amber stepped forward and hit me on the arm.
“Ow! Sorry!” I said, rubbing my bicep and pretending that her punch hurt more than it did.
Daniel laughed. “Careful, dude,” he said. “She’s feisty.”
I smiled, but inside I was screaming. I’m not your dude, dude! And you think I don’t know that she’s feisty? I’m her best friend. I know more about her than you ever could. I love her more than you ever will.
Instead, I said, “Don’t I know it.”
“All right,” Amber said. “We should probably stop hiding and go socialize with all my parents’ friends who were kind enough to write this feisty girl a graduation check.” She grinned, and both Daniel and I followed her outside, where my mom and Helen had set up a table with appetizers, and Tom was standing in front of the grill, sipping a beer and chatting with a man I didn’t recognize. I looked at the pool, remembering, and felt as though a rock had dropped from my chest into my gut. I wasn’t afraid of the deep end anymore, but I had never been able to shake the humiliating memory of what my father did to me that day.
“Tyler!” my dad called out. He and Layla hadn’t moved from their lawn chairs. “Come here, Son. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
You think that’s an accident? I thought. Still, as Amber and Daniel walked over to talk with a group of her parents’ friends closer to the pool, I made my way to my dad, shaking Layla’s hand when I got there. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, hon,” she said, taking a sip of the beer she held. “Your dad’s told me so much about you. That you’re a fireman, just like him.”
“I’m a paramedic, actually,” I said, clenching my jaws at the idea that my father would lie about what I did for a living, as though my actual job were a shameful thing. Both jobs served important purposes. Both saved lives. I had been terrified to tell my father that I wasn’t going to follow in his footsteps. But then, at the beginning of my senior year, on one of the two weekends a month I spent with him at his condo instead of home with my mom, I somehow worked up the courage. We had just finished breakfast in the small nook off the kitchen, and I asked him to join me in the living room.
“Should we sit?” I asked when we stood next to the couch, and then immediately regretted it. I’d just turned eighteen, and questions like that implied my father was still in charge of my decisions.
“I’m good,” my dad said. He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What’s up?”
“I’ve made a decision.” I forced myself to retain eye contact with him.
“About?”
Before I answered, I straightened my posture to my full six-foot-two height, which I’d reached over the summer, finally tall enough to look my dad in the eye. A small part of me believed that, if I stood my ground about what I wanted to do with my life, my father might actually respect me. Wasn’t that what he always said he wanted from me—for me to “ball up” and “be a man”? I swallowed and went on. “I’m going to school to be a paramedic. I’m not going to be a firefighter.”
I held my breath, waiting for my father’s response. I hoped he might see that I was choosing a noble and important profession, even if it wasn’t the one he wanted me to have. I didn’t know how to articulate my need to differentiate from my father while at the same time wanting to make him proud.
My dad remained quiet for what felt like a long couple of minutes after I spoke, staring at me with void, blinking green eyes. “You gonna make fifteen dollars an hour for the rest of your life, Son?” he finally said. “Is that how you’re going to take care of a family?”
Being a paramedic would allow me to make significantly more than that, but in that moment, my father’s scorn had gutted me. It also made me even more determined to prove that I could be successful without being like him.
“Layla, honey,” my dad said now. “Why don’t you go get me another beer? And something to eat.” He held up his empty bottle and gave it a little shake. She smiled, took the bottle, then stood up, and as she turned, my dad smacked her ass, loud enough that it made the people near us turn their heads.
“That woman is pure wildcat,” my dad said under his breath, after she’d walked away. “Best blow jobs I’ve ever had.”
“Jesus, Dad,” I said. “Don’t tell me shit like that.”
“What?” he said, blustering. “Your little boy ears can’t take it?”
I stared at him, but didn’t say a word. It was safer not to.
“I hear Amber went and got herself engaged,” he continued, as though that brief, tense exchange hadn’t happened.
“Yep.”
He lowered his voice again. “You ever ride that ride? You two spent enough time together.”
“Shut up!” I said. The words came out as a hiss. “Right now, Dad. Do you understand me?” I glanced around to make sure that no one had heard him, grateful that it didn’t seem like anyone was looking our way. Layla stood by the food table, using a toothpick to nibble on tiny blocks of cheese, then set a few different appetizers on a plate.
“Whoa!” he said, holding up both hands, his palms facing me. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I was joking.”
“It wasn’t funny,” I said, even as I tried to steady my breath. My face was hot and my chest was instantly as tight as it had been that morning, before my run. Don’t lose it, now, I thought. Don’t ruin this night for Amber.
“Whatever you say,” my dad said, staring me down. Daring me to push the argument further.
“I’m going to see if I can help Tom with anything,” I said, standing up, towering over my father.
“You do that,” he said, and I walked away, feeling sick, wishing, as I had the first time I stepped foot in Amber’s backyard, that I could find a way to disappear.
• • •
I didn’t hear from Amber for three days after her party, nor did I reach out to her. I suspected that she’d be spending all the time she could with Daniel before he left for Seattle, and the truth was that I didn’t think I could handle witnessing more of what I already had of the two of them together—his long arm around her shoulders, his talented, going-to-be-a-doctor fingers resting on the small of her back. Whenever I looked at them during the party, he was constantly reaching out, holding her close, leaning in to kiss her. His touch was like a branding tool on her skin, a reminder that he possessed what I’d always wanted.
I left before she opened her gifts, citing my having to be up early the next morning for work. It wasn’t until Tuesday that I woke to find a text from her on my phone. “Want to get coffee?” she asked. “Our usual place?”
“Sure. See you at eleven?” I knew she meant Espresso Avellino, a small, artisan coffee shop downtown on Railroad Avenue, where we sometimes used to hang out after school or on the weekends when we didn’t have anything better to do. Her invite now confirmed that Daniel had left, and we could finally spend some time together.
Amber was already standing at the counter, placing an order, when I arrived a few minutes before eleven. The bell on the door chimed as I entered, and she turned and saw me, smiled, then signaled the barista to make two drinks. “Hey, you,” she said, giving me a quick hug when I approached.
“Hey.” I pulled a ten-dollar bill from my wallet and slid it across the counter. “Keep the change,” I told the barista, and then Amber and I took a few steps over to the corner and sat down. I leaned back against my chair, resting my fingertips on the edge of the small, square table between us. “How are you? How’s being home?”
“Weird.” She screwed up her face in a classic Amber expression, a mixture of distaste and uncertainty. “I can’t get used to the idea that I don’t have to go back to school. I keep waking up in a panic, thinking I need to call my lab partner or finish a term paper.”
I laughed, and the barista delivered our drinks. Amber lifted hers and took a small sip, closing her eyes as she did. “Do you have to work tonight?”
I nodded. “Yeah. My schedule lately is Friday through Tuesday. More incidents and accidents on the weekends.” I thought of the last call of my shift the previous night, which had been to a house where an older man had fallen down the stairs. When Mason and I arrived, the man was bleeding profusely from a gash in his head, as well as from a fracture in his forearm that had broken through the skin. As we treated him, his feeble wife stood too close, hands wringing anxiously. “Is he going to die?” she kept asking as I tended to the man’s wounds. Her thin, high-pitched voice wobbled. “They’ll put me in a home if he dies.” The house was a mess, both of them smelled like urine and sweat; it was clear they hadn’t emptied the garbage or showered in weeks. Neither of them seemed very coherent, so, after getting them to the hospital, I had to report their living situation to Adult Protective Services. It was a part of the job I hated. Almost as much as when, despite my best efforts, someone I treated died on the scene.
“So you took a Saturday off to come to my party?” Amber asked.
“I figured you’d kick my ass if I didn’t show.”
“You figured right.” She grinned, then set her mug on the table. “I just got around to opening my gifts last night.”
“Well, that’s good. I was a little worried when I didn’t hear from you.” I paused. “Did you like it?”
“Are you kidding?” She reached beneath the collar of her jacket and pulled out a thin chain, pressing the small circle of pounded silver between her fingers. Upon it, I’d had the jeweler etch the words “Just Ask Me” in a pretty, scrolled font. “It’s perfect. I love it.” She gave me a shy smile. “Thanks, Ty.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, and my chest burned with pleasure, knowing that I’d made her happy, that she and I were the only ones who understood what the engraving meant. “So, I take it Daniel’s in Seattle?”
“Yeah.” A shadow passed over her face as she looked down at the ring on her finger. “He left this morning.”
“Miss him already, huh?”
“I guess.” She didn’t make eye contact as she spoke.
“Is something wrong? Did you guys have a fight or something?” I kept my tone as casual as possible, considering the flash of optimism I felt.
“No.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just overwhelmed with everything. Graduating, getting engaged, now having to be apart from him, moving again in September . . .” Her voice trailed off, then she looked at me with bright eyes. “Never mind. I’m being an idiot.”
“Being overwhelmed doesn’t make you an idiot,” I said. Keep cool, I thought. Don’t let her know how much you want her to realize this engagement was a mistake. “It makes you normal. It’s a lot to have going on.”
“Yeah,” she said. “It is. I love him, Tyler. You know that. But I just feel so . . . awkward, somehow. He’s really the first guy I’ve been really serious with.”
“That’s true,” I said.
“And the only time we ever even talked about marriage was when he told me that he would rather do it before he actually became a doctor, so he’d know the person he was with wasn’t pretending to love him for his money. I thought he was just being theoretical, you know? Like we were just having a general conversation, not planning our future. We haven’t even been together a year.”
“So it feels like he made the decision without you? Like it’s more about want he wants instead of what you both want?” Careful, I thought. Don’t criticize him too much.
“Exactly!” she said. “I knew you’d get it.” She sighed again. “But he’s so great. I don’t know what else I’d want from a guy that he’s not already giving me.”
I bit my tongue to keep myself from blurting out anything that might prevent her from telling me more about what she was feeling. The more I let her talk about it, the more I’d know how to fan the flames beneath her doubt and turn her attention toward the possibility of having a relationship with me. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl finally realized that the guy who has been there all along, her reliable best friend, is really the one she loves. It could happen to us.
“You remember that I went home with him over spring break and met his parents, right?”
“Yep.” Tell me it was horrible, I thought. Tell me his family is a bunch of assholes.
“They were awesome. His mom made me a special fleece blanket because Daniel had mentioned to her that I tended to get cold easier than most people. I mean, Jesus. How would it have looked if I had said no when he proposed?”
It was everything I could do not to ask, You thought about saying no? but I didn’t think I could contain the glee in my voice if I did. “What do your parents think?” I asked, instead.
“They think it’s a little fast, but as long as we don’t get married right away, they’re good with it. They like him. And you know they got married when they were both twenty-two, so it’s not like they can tell me these kinds of relationships never work out.”
“That’s true,” I said, disappointed that Helen and Tom hadn’t shown their usual overprotectiveness of Amber in this particular situation. Either they really did approve of Daniel and the engagement, or they expected the relationship to run its course and end on its own without their interference.
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes, as though she was annoyed with herself. “Enough about that!” She reached over and smacked my forearm. “Tell me about this neighbor girl of yours.”
I waited a moment, contemplating what details to share. “Her name is Whitney,” I finally said, deciding to keep it simple. “She’s a business marketing student, very smart and very cute.” If Amber was going to believe I had been dating someone, she might as well know that the girl was intelligent and attractive.
“Oh, really?” Amber said, widening her eyes. “And how old is Whitney?”
“Twenty-one,” I said, fudging the truth by a year. I worried that, somehow, seeing a girl who couldn’t legally drink yet would make me seem perverted.
“Hmm. Is it serious?”
I shook my head. I wanted Amber to be a little jealous or, at the very least, relieved that I wasn’t pining for her, but I didn’t want her to think that I was unavailable. “We have fun,” I said. “But we’re not in love or anything.”
“Well, good. Because she needs the best friend seal of approval before you can say that.”
“Ha! Like you waited for my approval with Daniel?”
“I know,” she said. Her tone was soft, and a little regretful. “I’m sorry it took so long for you to meet him. And I appreciate how supportive you’ve been after a sort of a . . . rocky start.”
“He seems like a good guy.”
“He is,” Amber said, but I couldn’t help but latch on to the tinge of ambivalence in her voice, thinking that, with the proper amount of convincing, my dream of a life with Amber might actually have a chance at coming true.
