Jessica Sankiewicz: If Only We

It almost does seem like a dream when I'm getting my diploma and moving that tassel for the second time. A calm comes over me during the speech and while waiting in line to cross the stage. However, once the ceremony is over a wave of unease overcomes me. I know what is supposed to be next. I know who will be coming. I know what will happen. I don’t want to face that again.

Facing him then was hard enough. What came after was almost worse…

Him, saying something to the effect of “talk to you later.” Me, nodding, although I barely register his words. All I can see is him…walking away. All I can think is…he’s gone.

Back then, I couldn’t cry, but thinking about it now causes me to tear up. I will myself to hold them in. Sure, it’s graduation day and I should be crying tears of mixed emotions. I want to act as though everything is normal. Even though I want to escape.

Suddenly, he's approaching me.

An intensity of feelings mingles with my unease. All of the horrible things that happened yesterday start to unravel. They fall to the ground and people crush them beneath their feet. Yesterday becomes a dream. I can’t remember anything but his sweetness, I can’t hear anything but his charming words, and I can’t see anything but his handsome self. I begin to think that maybe, just maybe, anything is possible. I don’t feel the need to escape. I have control over what will happen next. I can right what went wrong. I can pick that domino up and move it somewhere else.

He finally reaches me, pulling me in for a tight hug, lifting me up. “Congratulations, Adrienne!” The uneasy feeling dissipates entirely as I let the warmth and strength of his arms wash over me. I hold on to him just as tightly, not wanting the moment to end.

“Congratulations to you too!” I manage to say. I breathe him in, remembering him as he was those few months ago all over again. It throws me off balance to think about how he is here; he is hugging me and he is not mad at me. I can talk to him. Be around him. It's almost too much to bear. I start to tear up at how happy I am.

So much for acting normal.

When we let go, he takes one look at me and says, “Wow, I’m not leaving, you don’t need to cry.” He carefully wipes the tear away. He has a serious look on his face but I can see the corners of his mouth twitching with the urge to grin.

His playfulness puts me more at ease. I lightly punch him on the arm. “I’m starting to understand the whole theory behind the word bittersweet right now.” At least it’s easy to fake a reason behind the tears.

My mind comes to a standstill as it tries to come up with the words I should say next. This is where I spoke up. What should I say? My brain can't put a coherent thought together. The words from before circle my head but I brush them aside. I won't let them return this time around.

Before I am forced into appearing like a complete fool, he speaks up. “You’ve got that nursing home gig coming up soon, right?”

I nod. “Yeah, I do. It starts Monday.”

“Really? That soon?”

“Yep, that soon. It lasts ten weeks…just in time for college…in the fall.” I heave a sigh. Yesterday, I was going to college on Monday. Today, I will be volunteering at a nursing home on Monday. I am going backwards. The dread from last night has returned to me. What does it mean? Am I uncertain about my future? Or is it the rip in the space-time continuum that is creating this doubt?

Chevy raises his eyebrows. “Whoa, don’t sound so excited.” He pauses to read my face. “You’re not anymore, are you?”

He can read me so well, always has been able to. It was a rare moment when I could hide how I really feel. Right now, I can’t hide it. I bite my lip. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I think…I think I haven’t been able to catch up with myself.” I haven't been able to wrap my head around what could be happening, much less understand why my enthusiasm for my career has come to a screeching halt.

He nods. “Sure, I understand.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “We can talk about it later.”

Later—that sounds so nice to hear.

I give him an appreciative smile. “Was your dad able to get you into the shop?” I ask. His dad works at The Auto Stop, our neighborhood car repair shop.

“Yep! They were only able to give me two days a week but it’s a good start.” He shrugs. “It’s not like I’m planning on leaving home anytime soon.”

“That’s true.”

Out of nowhere, Lyndsay bumps into me from behind. “Hey!” she shouts, giving me another huge hug. “I am so proud of us I could shout it from the rooftops.” She turns to Chevy and hugs him too. Then she grabs my hand and says, “Come on! We’ve got to say goodbye to everyone.”

I laugh as she pulls me away. “I guess I’ll talk to you later?” I say to Chevy.

He chuckles and waves. “Definitely.” He disappears into the crowd.

Lyndsay and I spend the next fifteen minutes running around and tackling every classmate we see in hugs and saying “Have a great summer!” to each and every one of them. It’s so strange to see what I missed.

My dad catches sight of me, runs over, and pulls me into a big bear hug. “Hey squirt!” It's strange how I had just seen him two days ago, but at this point, it had been six months. Of course he misses me, and I should miss him.

I laugh. “Hey, Dad.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, still hugging me. “I can’t believe how grown up you are. It makes me feel old.” He gives me a kiss on the cheek before he lets me go.

“You’re not old!”

“Someday you’ll understand.”

When the rest of the family walks over to us, I say to him, “That’s funny. Mom said that to me earlier.” I turn to Mom. Some days I wonder why they ever divorced.

“I said what?” she asks.

“That I’ll understand someday.”

She nods knowingly with a smile. “You will.” She pulls me in for a long hug. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” I squeeze her back.

Maurice speaks up, “I think it’s time to celebrate, don’t you?”

At the restaurant while we wait for our table, Lyndsay pulls me aside to ask how things went with Chevy. She knew I was planning to talk to him after the ceremony. Or I was , last she heard. “You aren’t acting like he wanted to go out with you, and you aren’t acting like he didn’t want to go out with you. What gives?”

“I didn’t ask him,” I say, twisting my hair between my fingers.

Her jaw drops. “You what ? You’ve been talking about this for weeks and psyching yourself up for it and you don’t even ask him . Why?”

I shrug. “I didn’t think it was the right place.” More like, it was a bad idea to begin with.

“But you told me…”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it—”

“Twelve hours?” She seems disbelieving.

Ignoring my faux pas, I continue, “—and I think it would be more…appropriate in a different setting.” That sounds like me. Always postponing something out of fear of what could happen. Talking to him was supposed to break me out of my pattern. I have learned my lesson there.

“Appropriate…in a different setting?” She appears confused by my words. And rightly so.

“Yeah.”

She shrugs, not wanting to argue or push the issue, even though I know she believes I should get it over with. The glory of the summer after graduation only lasts so long and things can change quickly. “Whatever floats your boat.” She has always been supportive of my crushes, even if she doesn't fully understand the appeal.