Page 48 of Fragments of the Lost
“Wait, you have a night sky app?” I’d asked, pushing his shoulder, teasing.
“Oh, yeah, let’s all make fun of Max until nobody can figure out where Saturn is.”
He realigned his phone, scanned it across the horizon, moved my arm to point in the other direction. “There,” he said. “You were nowhere close, Jessa. Seriously.”
Max’s fingers circled my wrist, and we were both looking at the bright spot in the distance. We didn’t need the binoculars at all—everything in the universe feeling suddenly so vast, and so possible, all at once.
It was me who turned my face first. It was me who talked low enough to make him look, whose eyes drifted shut first, who leaned closer.
But he put a hand on my shoulder firmly, stopping me—my face hovering an inch from his, so close I could feel his breath.
“Oh God,” I said. “I’m sorry. I just…”What?I was thinking this was how it should be, with the clarity of the night sky and the boy I liked beside me. Only it wasn’t Caleb beside me.
He shook his head, not looking at me, and stood abruptly.
I was on my feet, even though the rush of blood from my head made me dizzy. Max had his car keys out already. “Oh God,” I said again, because that about covered it. “Please don’t say anything. Please, Max. You’remyfriend too.” I was begging him at this point; this wasn’t how to break up with someone, by breaking their heart in the meantime.
He wouldn’t look at me. “Okay,” he said.
“Max,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I was still holding the binoculars on the way home, wrapping the cord tighter and tighter around my hand, winding and unwinding. Until he pulled up in front of my door, and I left them on his passenger seat, neither of us saying a word as I left.
—
Now, Max is still staring at the binoculars, as if remembering the same moment I am.
“Had Caleb been in your car? Since then?” I ask, not wanting to elaborate onthen.
“Yeah, sure. Plenty of times. Even borrowed it once or twice. I think there was some sort of issue with his car. He probably saw these and figured he’d borrow them, too. It’s not like they’re expensive or anything. Where were they?” he asks.
“Hanging from the back of his bed.” Hidden, I want to say, but I’m not so sure if that’s true. “Why do you think he took them?”
Max shrugs. “Anything, I guess. A ball game?”
“Was hegoingto a ball game?”
“I don’tknowJessa,” he says. The frustration on his face evident. “Did he say something to you?”
I throw my hands in the air. He told me nothing. His actions don’t make sense.He was going to see you, Jessa. Like always,his mother said. Nothing makes sense.
I can’t reconcile the two Calebs.
The one who was lying to me, in places he kept hidden. And the one who took me to the library, kept the seashell, unwrapped the ribbon on his box. The expression on his face. That wasn’t a lie. It couldn’t be.
I can’t reconcile the two Maxes, either. The one who drove us carefully to the game, the one who came back for me in New York; the one who tore through Caleb’s things, in his anger.
But if I’ve learned nothing else, it’s that nobody was who I thought. Everyone had secrets. Trust is a luxury for fools. The more I discover, the less I trust my own memories, even.
“Max?” a woman’s voice calls from upstairs. “Is someone here?”
Max looks at me, backs away. “No, Mom,” he says. As if he’s pushing me back once more. Reminding me that there’s a line between us, that I’ve forgotten.
I hear her steps coming downstairs, and I step back. I’ve barely turned around when I hear the door latch closed behind me.
This is a story of losing more than Caleb. This was where I lost Max, too. This was the boundary never to be crossed, not then and not now. If anything, it was worse in death. I would always be Caleb’s girlfriend. I could be nothing more.
When I wake, there’s a text from Max, asking me to meet him early at school. I jump in the shower, dress quickly, and grab a Pop-Tart as I run out the door. It’s the first text I’ve received from him in nearly two months. Part of me thinks Max must’ve remembered something. Something about thebinoculars. Something that will slide effortlessly into place and suddenly everything will make sense: the missing piece that will trace Caleb’s path from the race to the bridge; the what and the why. I’m so anxious I have to remind myself to slow down as I drive to school.
