Page 30 of Regretting You

Forty-five days. That’s how long they’ve been dead, and I have no idea how I can possibly walk through these hallways, smiling like I didn’t just lose two of the most important people in my life.

It fills me with guilt because my mother never smiles anymore.

Neither does Jonah. Not only have I stolen lives because of my disregard for Aunt Jenny’s safety while she was driving, but now I’ve stolen the smiles of all the people my father and Aunt Jenny left behind.

I head toward Jonah’s classroom, and Miller walks with me, holding the door for me when we reach it. Jonah is the only one inside when we walk into the room, still hand in hand.

Jonah is staring at our hands, and again, I feel the guilt coursing through me. How long will it take until I don’t feel guilty for feeling happy? Shouldn’t I be in a depression every second of the day? Not just at intervals? I pull my hand from Miller’s as I set my stuff onto my desk.

Jonah tilts his head in curiosity. “You two dating now?”

“Don’t answer that either,” I say to Miller.

“O kay , then,” Jonah says, giving his attention back to the work laid out in front of him. “Gotten very far on the film project?”

“No. I just told Miller I signed him up for it last night.”

Jonah looks up at Miller. “You still waiting on permission from the girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend anymore.” Miller looks at me. “Or maybe I have a new one?” He looks confused when he gives his attention back to Jonah. “It doesn’t seem like she wants me telling people we’re a thing now.”

“Are we?” I ask. “A thing?”

“I don’t know,” Miller says. “You’re the one who keeps telling me not to answer anyone.”

“I just didn’t want you to feel pressured to label us.”

“Now I feel pressured not to label us.”

“Well, Lexie said if I acted like I liked you, it would scare you away.”

Miller raises a brow. “If that phone call didn’t scare you away last night, I think we’re fine. If you like me, I want you to act like you like me, or I’ll get a complex.”

“I like you. A lot. Don’t get a complex.”

“Good,” Miller says. “I like you too.”

“Good,” I say in return.

“ Good ,” Jonah says, reminding us of his presence. “Project is due before the end of the semester. Get started.”

“Okay,” Miller and I say in unison.

Jonah rolls his eyes and walks back around his desk. Miller backs away from me. “I’ll meet you after class.”

I smile.

He smiles back, but when he leaves the room, my smile turns to a frown. Once again, I feel guilty for even smiling.

“Whoa.”

I look up at Jonah. “What?”

“The look on your face. Your smile disappeared as soon as he did. You okay?”

I nod, but I don’t elaborate.

Jonah doesn’t let it go, though. “Clara. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, because it’s stupid. “I don’t know. I just ... I feel guilty.”

“Why?”

“It’s only been forty-five days, and I woke up happy today. I feel like a terrible person for even feeling good for one second.” Especially since their wreck was my fault. I leave that part out of my confession, though.

“Welcome to the theme park,” Jonah says.

I look at him quizzically, so he begins to offer up an explanation.

“Right after something tragic happens, you feel like you’ve fallen off a cliff.

But after the tragedy starts to sink in, you realize you didn’t fall off a cliff.

You’re on an eternal roller coaster that just reached the bottom.

Now it’s gonna be up and down and upside down for a long, long time. Maybe even forever.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Jonah shrugs. “I’m not here to make you feel better. I’m on the same roller coaster you are.”

The door opens, and students begin to file in. I can’t stop staring at Jonah. His eyes have crinkled at the corners, and his lips have a slight downward turn to them.

It tugs at my heartstrings a little, seeing him stressed out, or sad, or whatever that look is.

I don’t like it. He’s always been quiet and a little serious, but his eyes have always seemed happy.

I guess I haven’t really looked at him long enough since the wreck to really see how much it changed him.

It makes me wonder how much it’s changed my mother. I hardly look at her anymore either. I wonder if that’s because of my guilt.

Miller isn’t waiting for me after class like he said he would be. I’m not even sure where he has first period, so I linger in the hallway for a minute and wait for him.

“Clara?”

I spin around at the sound of my mother’s voice. She’s holding a folder in one hand, her Louis Vuitton bag in the other. She only breaks out the Louis on special occasions, so I’m not sure what she’s doing here and why the Louis is out, but it instantly makes me nervous.

“What are you doing?”

She holds up the folder. “Applying for a job.”

“Here?”

“They’re hiring substitute teachers. I thought I could do that for a few months. See if I like it. I’ve decided to go back to college.”

The hall is starting to clear out. I look around to make sure no one is near us. “Are you serious ?”

She looks at me like I just offended her. “What’s wrong with me going to college?”

I didn’t mean to offend her. If she wants to go to college, I’m happy for her. But the last thing I want is for her to test the waters at the school I attend daily. We already can’t get along at home. I can’t imagine potentially having her in class.

I shake my head. “I didn’t mean—” My words are cut off when lips meet my cheek and an arm snakes around my waist.

“I was trying to find you. Where do you go for study period?”

I look at Miller, wide eyed. I look back at my mother.

My expression prompts Miller to look from me to my mother.

I feel him stiffen, and then he drops his arm to his side.

It’s the first time I’ve seen Miller look flustered.

He holds out his hand to my mother to formally introduce himself.

She just stares at his hand and then looks at me.

Miller starts to mumble an apology. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Grant. I thought you were just one of Clara’s friends. You ... you look really young.”

My mother is staring daggers at me, ignoring him.

“She is young,” I say to Miller. “She had me when she was seventeen.”

My mother doesn’t miss a beat as she finally addresses Miller. “We’re very fertile women. Be careful.”

Oh my God.

I cover my eyes for a brief moment. I can’t even look at him when I say, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

I can see him nod out of the corner of my eye, and he quickly walks in the opposite direction.

“I can’t believe you just said that to him.”

“You’re dating him now?” she says, motioning over my shoulder. “I thought you said he had a girlfriend.”

“He broke up with her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“You’re right—I don’t.” She’s raising her voice now. I’m relieved the hallway is empty. “Since the day you started hanging out with him, you’ve skipped out on your father’s funeral, you’ve done drugs, you’re never home, you’re late for curfew. He’s not good for you, Clara.”

I don’t want to argue with her right now.

But she couldn’t be more wrong about him.

It makes me angry that she’s placing my behavior on a guy, rather than on the fact that maybe the few bad decisions I’ve made have been a result of what happened forty-five days ago.

That’s had way more of an effect on me than a boyfriend—knowing my texts to Aunt Jenny are what caused this entire terrible situation to begin with.

“I know nothing about what’s going on in your life. You tell me nothing.”

I roll my eyes. “Now that Aunt Jenny isn’t here to tell you every little secret?”

Her anger gives way to an expression of shock, like she honestly didn’t think I was aware Aunt Jenny used to tell her everything. Then she just looks angry. Hurt.

“Why do you think she told me everything, Clara? It’s because all the advice she ever gave you came from me. She’s spent the last five years cutting and pasting texts I wrote, and then she’d send them to you and pretend they were hers.”

“That’s not true,” I snap.

“It is true. So stop treating me like I don’t know what’s best for you or that I have no clue what I’m talking about.”

What she’s saying about Aunt Jenny isn’t true.

And even if it were ... even if my mother was the one to relay most of the advice Jenny gave me, why would she ruin that for me? Jenny is never coming back thanks to me, and my mother just took the one thing I cherished most about my aunt and threw it in a blender and fed it to me.

I hate that I feel like I’m about to cry. I’m so angry with her. At myself. I turn around to walk away before I say something that will get me grounded, but my mother grips my arm.

“Clara.”

I yank my arm from her hand. I spin and take a lunging step toward her. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you for taking one of the things I loved the most about my aunt and ruining it for me!”

I really want to call her a bitch, but I don’t want to make her angry. I want to make her feel guilty. I want her to feel as guilty as I’ve felt since the accident.

It works, because she immediately looks ashamed for taking credit for the close relationship I had with Aunt Jenny.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I walk away, leaving her standing alone in the hallway.