Page 66 of This Might Hurt

I snag a program off one of the seats as we pass, a fluttery thing on cheap printer paper with inserts that fall out when I try to read it.

There are almost two hundred graduates listed; I’ve never been more grateful that “Bishop” comes near the beginning of the alphabet.

I show Jude his sister’s name, with Montana State - Social Work printed next to it for her college plans.

He stares at it for a long time without saying anything, then leans against the rope barrier and waits with his head down and his knee bouncing anxiously.

He chose a lavender dress shirt and a tight pair of his designer chinos, the most I’ve ever seen him care about his clothes.

Over the next fifteen minutes the area around us fills up until we’re shielded from the rest of the crowd, which helps us both relax.

The ceremony begins with a prayer and some kind of weirdly patriotic song with the lyrics printed in the program.

Jude pulls a face at me as we listen awkwardly, the first sign of life I’ve gotten from him today.

The principal, a tall man in a green polo, speaks briefly and starts to call names, punctuated by cheers and the loud snapping of the school flag in the breeze.

I thought Jude wanted space, but he crowds in and presses his back tight against my chest. When I hook an arm around him, he grips it with both hands.

The names are so hypnotically repetitive and Jude is so warm that my brain starts to drift until I hear: “I want to pause a moment to welcome a student who needs no introduction to any of you.” An excited murmur starts up in the crowd.

“While our own beloved Elena Bishop makes her way onto stage, I’d like to read you a short letter she’s written for us. ”

With the faint hum of a motor, a slim blonde girl in her cap and gown navigates her wheelchair out from the curtained-off backstage, frowning in concentration as she lines herself up with the ramp. Jude sucks in a ragged breath, his fingernails digging so deep into my arm that I know I’m bleeding.

“‘I want to say thank you to my friends, my family, my neighbors, and my teachers,’” the principal reads from her note.

“‘I thought my life was over and all my dreams had been ripped away.’” He chokes up, and as he pauses to compose himself I can hear sniffles in the audience.

Jude tips his head back against me and closes his eyes, like he’s trying to block it all out before it breaks him.

“‘None of you ever gave up on me, and that’s what gave me the strength to not give up on myself. Thank you.’”

Lena proudly crosses the stage, to where the principal is wiping his eyes as he gathers up her diploma.

I nudge Jude gently. “Look, baby.”

He blinks his eyes open and watches, still tearing my skin to pieces as Lena raises her arm so the man can shake her hand.

Her ecstatic ear-to-ear smile as he places the diploma in her lap is so fucking similar to Jude’s, inscribed on my soul.

One of her classmates lets out a full-throated scream, and the crowd goes berserk cheering for her, until it hurts my ears.

It doesn’t stop until she’s completely off stage and out of sight.

I was going to do this the polite way, to wait until everything finished, but I can feel the body in my arms slowly fracturing.

I pry myself away from Jude and grab the back of his neck, steering him forcibly along the rope barrier toward the curtains surrounding the backstage area.

When he realizes where we’re going, he stiffens and digs his heels into the grass, shooting me a panicked look.

“Come on,” I murmur in his ear. “Don’t think.

” When he stops fighting, I push him through the curtain.

We find ourselves alone except for a photographer rapidly snapping photos as students descend from the stage and circle back to sit in the front row.

Desperate not to lose our chance, I drag Jude through the back of the staging area to the furthest corner of the football field, out of sight of the crowd.

And there she is. The distant impression of her becomes an actual girl with too many freckles and pale hair made messy by the breeze.

Her wheelchair is parked to the side while one of her friends tries to fix something about her makeup.

They’re both giggling and giddy, her diploma tucked in her lap with one hand resting on it to keep it safe.

Someone on stage must have done something funny, because the whole crowd laughs and boos.

Lena glances up at the sound and looks straight at us.

Her chocolate brown eyes, darker than his, go wide and her silly grin fades.

Her friend hesitates, squinting at Jude like she’s not sure if she recognizes him.

I jerk my head at her to leave, forgetting I have no authority here, but she gets the hint and heads for the curtain with one last worried glance at Lena.

Jude takes two steps toward her and stops, his shoulders stiff.

“You came,” she breathes. The longer she looks at him, the more her face falls.

It takes me a moment to realize that the brother she knew before her accident was nothing like the thin, tired, scared boy in front of her.

My hatred for his parents and what they’ve done to both their children sinks into something so profound and savage I don’t know how to hold it.

“I’m sorry,” Jude croaks, like he’s rehearsed those two words tens of millions of times. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, please come here.” She reaches an arm toward him. “Everything’s okay. I’m okay.”

Like her voice released him, he stumbles to his knees next to the chair and buries his face in her shoulder, wrapping his arms carefully around her waist. Closing her eyes, she rests her cheek in his hair and whispers things I can’t hear over the announcer and the cheers of the crowd.

I’m pretty sure Jude is never going to move again.

Lena eventually realizes it too, because she opens her eyes and meets my gaze, making me aware that I should have given them space instead of just staring.

She smiles and mouths thank you, her eyes raking over me with avid curiosity.

I’m probably not what she imagined her brother’s boyfriend would look like.

A moment later, she blinks. “Hey, your arm is bleeding.”

I look down at my forearm where Jude gripped it during the ceremony. “Oh.” I knew he drew blood, but between that and the dented skin surrounded by faintly darkening bruises, I look like a fucking dog bit me.

Jude eases out of the hug far enough to look back and hisses softly at the sight. “Sorry about that. Andrew, meet my snotty, nasty little sister. Lena, meet Andrew.”

“Hi.” She smiles at me over his head, but I can see that she’s surprised I never told Jude about our phone conversation.

I feel another strange moment of slipping, like all my choices are moving me further away from what I want instead of closer.

Then I realize what Jude said. This is Andrew, nothing more.

I’m not sure what I expected, but some part of me is growling and scared at the sudden distance, and I realize this is how I made him feel when I took his ring.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” I manage, after an awkwardly long pause.

“I have to go back to the audience,” she tells Jude very gently, “but I’m going to meet you for dinner tonight after my grad party, okay?”

He pulls away, making sure she’s seated securely, then just crouches next to her looking wretched.

Her voice shifts into that firmer, more adult tone she used on the phone. “Jude, look at me.”

He lifts his head, his eyes startled. There’s so much history in the air between them, a bond so profound and full of joy. “You’re going to see me again, I promise. In like eight hours.”

Pulling in a deep breath, he nods slowly. “Roger that, asswipe.”

Her face dimples into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “I love you too, barf brain.”