One Last Thing ✅

sixty things

In the hallway, I see a familiar figure bent over the drinking fountain outside of Mrs. Feldmann's office. Jared straightens up and adjusts the collar of his jean jacket. When he sees me, he raises one eyebrow.

"Oh, hey. How was your thing?"

I kind of shrug and laugh. "Honestly, I don't really know."

He nods and looks at the floor.

"Can I ask you a question?" I say quickly, before I lose my nerve.

His eyes flick back up to my face. "Yeah..."

"Are you okay with me and Abbott spending time together?"

There is an awkward silence. I squeeze the pass in my hand, wishing I hadn't asked the question. Maybe I should have left it alone. Or let Abbott talk to him about it. After all, I don't really know what to say about my feelings for Abbott. It's not like I meant to have them. They just kind of blossomed out of nowhere. I don't want to hurt Jared, but I'm not sure there's really anything I can do about it. I guess that's just life. People change. You just try not to hurt others in the process. At that so far, I've pretty much failed. It's time to make amends, in every area of my life.

"It's weird," he finally admits. "I mean, he asked me if it was okay if he started dating you. At first I was pissed off, but then I thought about it and I'm not really sure I have any right to tell him who to care about. I mean, I didn't have it in me to give you what you need. Maybe he does."

I think carefully about his words. "I don't think it's that, exactly. It's more like he believes that I can give myself what I need."

Jared smiles at me sweetly. "I've always believed that about you. That's why it was so frustrating to watch you tear yourself apart." We both stand there for a moment, staring at each other.

Something else pops into my head, something I've been wanting to get off my chest ever since the accident. "You know that I'll pay you back, for your car. As soon as I get through this legal stuff, I'll find a job. Okay?"

Jared shrugs. "My dad got an old Lincoln for us to work on. It'll be sweet when we're finished, in an old school Frank Sinatra sort of way."

"Nice," I reply admiringly.

Jared clears his throat. "I'd better get back to class."

"Okay," I say.

I watch him walk down the hall and turn the corner, thinking about how lucky I am to know the people that I do. Then I turn and walk into the counselor's office. Mrs. Feldmann is watering a large green plant when I walk in. She looks up at me and smiles, setting her watering can on top of a cabinet in the corner.

"Lil! How did it go?"

My cheeks warm slightly. I don't really want to discuss the fact that I just came from the courthouse with her. It's not that I'm any stranger to this feeling of shame, but it's something I can never get used to; it's a noose that just keeps on tightening. I'm tired of everyone asking about it. I can't wait until this ordeal is over with and I can move on with my life—facing my punishment, whether that involves jail time or community service or working to help the Edwards family. Whatever, I just want to know what's coming so I can start dealing with it.

"It was okay. Nothing was really decided," I say, falling into the chair opposite her desk. She settles down and folds her hands in front of her. There is an awkward silence, and I find myself staring at her necklace, a tiny pendant in the shape of a mother embracing a baby dangling from a delicate chain.

"So how are you feeling today?"

I continue to stare at the necklace.

"Okay," I say blandly.

"You know that's one of those words, Lil. Okay, fine, they all mean the same thing—nothing. It means nothing. You're either not admitting to yourself how you're feeling, or you're not admitting it to me. If it's the former, then you're in big trouble because those feelings will come out eventually and you'll be facing the knife again. If it's the latter, then I don't know how you expect me to help you."

I lift my eyes to her face, though it takes an effort I wasn't sure I'd been capable of only a few seconds ago. A line has appeared on her forehead that wasn't there before. Of concern, I guess. For me. She wants to help me. She really does, I can feel it, can hear it in her tone of voice.

Just let her.

Let her help you.

"I feel..." My words come out haltingly, unsure of themselves. "Ashamed."

She nods encouragingly. "That's a start. Why do you feel ashamed?"

"Just..." I sigh. "The fact that you have to talk to me at all. I've made such a mess. I don't know why I can't just be normal." Now that the words have started, it's hard to turn them off. They tumble out of my mouth, hard and true. "It seems like my whole life I've just been an inconvenience to everyone. First to my mother, then my grandmother. To everyone here at school. To my ex-boyfriend. And then I ruined a whole family. All I am is one big mess that needs to be cleaned up. And I'm sick of it."

"Good," Mrs. Feldmann says firmly. "That was really good, Liliana."

"It's good to feel like such a fuckup?" I ask dazedly.

"No, but it's good that you're able to voice those emotions. It means that you're recognizing them. That's the first step."

I fiddle with my bandages. "So what's the next step?"

She gives me a gentle smile. "To stop being so hard on yourself. What's done is done. There's no changing it. Only moving forward. You have to start thinking about what you want to do with your life."

"More college stuff," I reply, making a face.

"No. It's about your mind. However you think, that's the way things are going to be. Got it?"

I shrug.

She leans forward "Do you understand?"

"I guess... you are what you believe you are," I reply. "That's what everyone wants us to think, but it's not really true, is it? If I want to be a good person, that comes naturally, doesn't it? I shouldn't have to think about it."

Mrs. Feldmann is quiet for a moment. "I see your point. But, Lil, you are young and smart and capable. You have time. You have health. You are so lucky. Don't you see that?"

"I guess."

"That wasn't very convincing. Tell me, Lil, what do you want to do with yourself? What makes you happy? If you could be anywhere, doing anything right now, what would you be doing?"

I tilt my head, ponder the question seriously. Glance at my hand. "I'd be playing the guitar with my band," I say. "But that's not going to happen anytime soon."

"But it might someday," Mrs. Feldmann says. "With a little physical therapy. Give it some time. What else would you do with yourself? If you didn't have to be here at school? If you could be anywhere?"

A vision wavers before my eyes.

The woods.

Trees on trees on trees.

No trace of human existence.

Just me, sitting on a soft patch of grass, surrounded by wild violets, listening to the birds sing, the leaves rustle in the crisp, fall afternoon. I smell the richness of the earth beneath me and the sweetness of the purple flowers. In my hands, my notebook and a black pen. Something within me surges, the need to pour everything out onto the paper, fill the pages with my sadness and regret and longing and hope.

"Liliana? Where have you gone?" Mrs. Feldmann's voice shakes me out of my reverie. Her face is curious. "What are you thinking about?"

"The forest," I say shyly. "And writing."

She raises her eyebrows. "Well, what do you know. Neither of those things cost a dime."