Chapter 13: Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MEMORIES

D7.

DANIEL

It’s the day after our big win against the Carrabba Academy and I’m still high off the feeling until reality hits me that I’m nearly failing French and if I don’t get it together, I’ll get kicked off the team. I’m sitting in the library waiting for my tutor to show up when I hear the most contagious laugh I’ve ever heard in my life.

I look up towards the source of the laughter and see that it comes from a pretty girl who has just walked in with a friend. I’d noticed her around the school before. How could I not? But I’d never had a reason to talk with her as she didn’t run in the same circles as me. The librarian quickly shushes her, with an annoyed look on her face and the girl quiets down. She says goodbye to her friend and then, to my surprise, turns and walks over to me.

“Daniel Wade?” she asks, as she arrives at my table.

“That would definitely be me,” I say.

“Great,” she replies and takes a seat across from me. “I’m Anna. Ready to learn some French?”

“Wait, you’re my tutor?” I ask.

She laughs that same contagious laugh that I heard earlier, and I find it impossible not to smile. “Why do you sound so surprised by that?”

“I don’t know,” I respond. “I guess I was expecting someone a bit more…”

“Nerdy?” she finishes for me.

“I was going to say French, but nerdy works too,” I joke. She laughs again. I’m surprised how addicted I feel to the sound of it. How a girl laughs is not really on top of the list of things I notice first.

“How do you know that I’m not? French, I mean, not nerdy” she teases, winking at me.

“Well, you don’t have an accent, you’re not wearing a beret, and…” I pause, sniffing the air like I’m trying to smell something, “I don’t smell any baguettes.”

She laughs the hardest at this one. I physically have to restrain myself from smiling so wide.

“It is no wonder you need my help if your only impression of French people is a few incredibly stereotypical things,” she teases.

“Sorry,” I say. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“Not at all,” she says. “As it turns out, I am not actually French. I just took it on as a second language early on. My dad speaks it, so…” she trails off, shrugging.

“Ah, Gotcha. Daddy’s girl, huh?” I ask.

She smiles in a very timid way for a girl who doesn’t seem the least bit timid at all.

“Something like that,” she replies.

I find myself immediately intrigued by this girl. I never cared so much about my French class before (hence why I am currently failing) but listening to Anna speak the language had me hypnotized. The way the words sounded and rolled off her tongue just sounded so sexy. I’ve only known this girl for about forty-five minutes before she did the impossible: she made me care about a class I thought was pointless.

When our hour of tutoring is up, I realize that I don’t want it to be over. She must be feeling the same way because she looks up at me as she is packing up her books and says, “I’m starving, you want to get something to eat?”

***

I am dropping Anna off at her house after our…date? Was that a date? I’m not sure what it was. We ate dinner and we talked for hours. I think the only thing that’s missing is a kiss goodnight before we can really call it a date. I want to kiss her badly, but I’m nervous in case I’m reading into this all wrong.

What is happening to me? I’m never nervous around girls. I mean, I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but I’m kind of a big deal at school. Girls throw themselves at me constantly and I find them pretty easy to talk to and flirt with. I’ve never had any problem asking a girl out or making the first move. I am not a shy dude. But as I look over at Anna sitting in the passenger seat right now, I feel this fluttering in my stomach that I’ve never experienced before. I realize that I care what this girl thinks about me and she doesn’t strike me as the type to simply be impressed by athletic talent or popularity. Have I actually met someone out of my league? I didn’t think that existed at our school. I’m so nervous that I begin to sweat. Still, I play it cool.

“So, what do you think?” she asks.

I peer out the window at her house. “It’s nice,” reply.

She laughs, “no, silly, not my house. I meant the music!” She gestures to the stereo, which is playing a CD from her favorite band, Dashboard Confessional. “Do you like it?”

Oh no. I wish she didn’t put me on the spot about this. I don’t want to offend her, but this music is weird as hell.

“It’s… “I trail off, trying to find the right thing to say, “interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever listened to a band with such an... emotional-sounding singer before. This dude sounds hella sad. It’s um… I like it?”

At this, she laughs really hard and I turn red, cringing at myself. Nice job, Wade. She probably thinks you’re an idiot.

“I know they aren’t very popular and kind of an acquired taste, but they’re really good,” she says as her laughter subsides.

“What do you like about them?” I ask.

“Oh, everything,” she replies. “Their lyricist is really amazing. I actually consider him more of a poet than a lyricist. His songs are THAT beautifully written. They just really touch your soul, you know? They are written in such a way that they make you think, yet at the same time, you can relate so hard to the feeling they’re trying to portray because it’s just so raw and real,” she says. “His emo vocals are actually a great part of the whole experience.”

I don’t even know what to say. Not because I disagree with her, but because I am mesmerized by her and her passion. It’s in this moment that I realize I could listen to this girl talk about anything all day long and I’m completely happy.

“You should give them a real shot, Dan,” God, I love the way my name sounds on her lips, “they’re way better than that Top 40s stuff you listen to,” she says, with a smirk.

At this, I start, “Hey, how do you know I’m a Top 40s kind of guy?”

She throws me an “aren’t you?” kind of look.

“Okay, fine. Don’t answer that,” I say, laughing in spite of myself. She laughs too and my heart feels so warm.

She gathers all of her things except for the CD. “Finish listening to it, maybe follow along with lyrics. You can return it to me tomorrow and give me a real opinion,” she says.

“Oh, so I’m seeing you again tomorrow?” I ask, my heart beating out of my chest with excitement at this prospect.

“I sure hope so, Dan,” she smiles, leaning in a bit closer to me. For a second, I think that she’s about to kiss me, but then she stops. “I mean, I AM your French tutor, so you sort of have to.”

Oh, what a tease. She laughs really hard, fully aware of what she just did, then climbs out of the car. She shuts the door and then leans into the window.

“Call me if you have any questions about French, or about Dashboard Confessional,” she says with a smirk.

“I don’t have your number,” I say.

“Yes, you do,” she replies with a sly smile, “I added it into your phone when you weren’t looking.” She laughs at the stunned look on my face and starts walking towards her house, shooting one more glance at me over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Dan.”

“Goodnight, Anna,” I simply reply.

I am in total awe.

***

I missed Anna from the second she left my car and when I arrived home, the first thing I did was find her number in my phone. There it was in the A’s. Anna Abramovic. She added a heart and baguette emoji next to it, which really made me laugh. My heart warms with the idea that we have an inside joke already.

My mom walks in at this second and sees me smiling.

“Oh, I know that look. Someone’s met a girl,” she teases.

Why do moms always have to ruin everything by saying something embarrassing? I take this as my cue to go up to my room.

I immediately text Anna and when she responds right away, my world brightens. What is it about this girl? I can’t stop talking to her, I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t get enough of her.

Our texts turn into a phone call and we spend the entire night talking about anything and everything under the sun, whispering quietly so that our parents don’t hear and make us hang up. She makes me play Dashboard Confessional and we talk about all of the songs. I love listening to her explain their meanings and the stories behind them. While I still can’t say that this is my favorite band, I feel a new respect for them. If a band can make someone speak so passionately about their music, then they must be something special.

It’s about three hours before school starts when we both realize that we have been awake all night and we should probably get a little bit of sleep, so we aren’t zombies later. I don’t want to hang up the phone. I want to talk to her forever. We end up staying on the line and falling asleep with each other on the phone.

When I see her at school later, I march right up to her at her locker and kiss her. I am surprised by my own boldness, but I can’t help it. I like this girl. More than like, I think I’m in love with her. Is it crazy to fall in love with someone within a day of knowing them? Maybe it is. But I can’t help the way I feel. It’s like my world has suddenly become Anna Abramovic and every cheesy love song (yes, the Top 40 ones she would make fun of me for liking) suddenly makes sense. I won’t tell her that though. Not yet.

When our lips finally part, I look at her. She has a look of pure amusement glued to her face.

“So, I kind of like you in case you hadn’t noticed,” I say.

She laughs at this and wraps her arms around my neck, “Good,” she says, “because I kind of like you too.”

She kisses me again with a mountain of passion and intensity. My heart is so full it could burst.

***

Anna and I have just had our first fight. I don’t know how soon into a relationship most couples have their first fight, but for us, it took exactly two months. Coincidentally, it is also how long it took for me to be ready to say the three words that would be a game-changer in our relationship: I love you.

I’m not necessarily a romantic kind of guy. I’d gone out with girls before Anna came into my life, but I never went out of my way to do super romantic gestures. Most of what I know about romance comes from random scenes in popular movies. So, the fact that I was going out of my way to do something romantic for Anna meant something.

I had found an abandoned treehouse near the park where I sometimes practice during the off-season. It’s a little shabby, but nice. I cleaned it up, hung up some string lights, and planned a romantic picnic for our two-month anniversary, just the two of us in our own little makeshift home. I even managed to score some wine from my parents’ stash.

We talked, we ate, we drank, and we kissed. We did a lot of kissing; the kind that doesn’t break for minutes, hours even. The kind where time stops, and you lose yourself in each other. I don’t know how long we laid on that picnic blanket, wrapped in each other’s embrace, but when the kiss finally parted, it was because I was ready to say it.

“Anna,” I said…

“Yes, Daniel?” she replied, breathlessly.

“I love you,” I said, nervously. My heart was racing so hard.

At these words, she smiled so brightly and exclaimed, “Oh, Daniel, I love you, too!” We then continued to kiss, though this time our kiss kept being interrupted by the smiles on our faces.

“I’ve been wanting to say that for a while,” I admitted between kisses.

“Me too,” she said, but then suddenly parted from me, her smile falling a bit. My excitement suddenly turned into concern.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“It’s just… I have something to tell you and I’m not sure how you’ll take it.” she said, and I could hear the nervousness in her voice too. “There’s something you don’t know about me.”

Immediately my thoughts turned to her family. There was something off about Anna’s home life. She had kept me a secret from her parents and never let me into her home. She never spoke of her mother, so I assumed she lived alone with her father, who she spoke of adoringly. However, whenever I asked if I could come inside her house, she would say that her father was way too strict and would never allow her to have a boyfriend. I found this kind of strange for several reasons. First of all, she never has a problem going out on dates with me whenever we plan them. Surely a strict father would keep a closer eye on her whereabouts, right? Second, it seems odd to speak of someone with so much love and admiration, but still be sort of scared of them, to the point where you would hide your relationship from them. Still, I never pushed for her to tell me what was going on. I knew she would talk about it when she was ready, and I thought this was the moment.

“What is it, Anna?” I asked her.

“Well,” she began, “it’s about when we first met. I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

I looked at her blankly, not sure where this was going. She continued.

“I saw your name on the tutoring list and the reason I volunteered for the job is that I wanted to make this other girl angry. I knew she had a crush on you and if I didn’t sign up to tutor you quickly, she would,” she admitted.

“Wait…what?” I said, in surprise. “What girl?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “She’s just some stupid cheerleader that did something to piss me off, so I wanted to get back at her. It’s why I initially flirted with you too.”

I felt like I was going to be sick. All that time during that first day together, I was falling so hard for her and she was just using me to get back at some girl?

“What the hell, Anna!” I yelled out.

“I’m sorry, Dan,” she said, with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you about this sooner, it’s just that I really ended up liking you for real. Yes, I flirted with you for other reasons, but once I started, I realized that I wasn’t even faking. I actually liked you.”

“Why are you even telling me this now?” I asked angrily.

“Because we are in love,” she said, “and I didn’t want to start this next phase of our relationship with a secret like that. I wanted to be real and honest with you, even if it meant that you might hate me for telling you.”

“I have to go,” I said.

She started crying and pleading with me not to, and while it hurt me to see her hurting, I was wounded too, and I needed some time alone.

I’ve been home for about two hours now, laying in my bed ignoring her texts and thinking about everything. I’m hurt by what I found out today, but the more I consider it, the more I wonder if it’s really so bad. I mean, I really love Anna. And I know that she loves me, I can feel that. She admitted the truth to me because she loves me, and she couldn’t bear to keep something from me. That should mean something.

I’m hurt, but the truth is that I don’t think that there’s anything Anna could have possibly done or said that would make me hate her or not want to be with her. When I’m with Anna, my heart feels a happiness that I’ve never felt before, that I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. There was a time when I thought that my life was basketball, and that basketball was my happiness, but the feeling does not even compare. I won’t play basketball forever, but I know that I would love Anna forever.

She’s just brought so much more meaning to my life. I could be having the worst day ever, but I see her smile or hear her laugh, and everything brightens up. Plus, she is beautiful. She is so beautiful. I never get enough of staring at her gorgeous face and memorizing every detail about it, like the way her nose crinkles up when she’s in deep thought about something, or how she sticks out her tongue when she’s concentrating on a difficult math problem. My heart feels so heavy just thinking about these things now.

Hearing my phone vibrate with another painful attempt to reach me makes me ache for her. I can’t stand to think of her in any kind of pain and this alone makes me want to want to forgive her immediately.

I grab my phone and message her:

“I love you, Anna. I forgive you.”

She immediately calls me tearfully and we make up. I mean it when I say that there’s nothing she could do that I wouldn’t forgive, but I won’t tell her that. I don’t want her to know just how much I actually love her. But god, I really, really do.

***

My phone rings and suddenly snaps me out of my reminiscence. I am in the locker room having a sports drink and cooling down after my heated one-on-one game against Radjan. I know coach is probably going to make me pay for that later.

I shake my head to myself as I dig through my bag for my phone and am surprised to find that it says “Mr. Martin” on the caller ID. Isabel’s father. I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dan! How are you doing?” Mr. Martin replies.

“I’m all right. How about you, Sir? Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Well, I just wanted to keep you updated about the Abramovic case. Isabel has told me about how close you were to her. I’m sorry about your loss, son.”

“Thank you, sir,” I swallow the lump I feel forming in my throat. “Is there a development in the case?”

There must be if he’s calling, right? Suddenly, I am so nervous. Mostly because when I find the guy who did this to Anna, I am not sure I will be able to stop myself from finding and killing him myself.

“Well, sort of. I just wanted to let you know that an anonymous call came in today,” he says, “now I don’t know how much weight to put onto this, there’s always a possibility that it was a prank, but this person that called said that they had information on the hit-and-run.”

My heart was soaring. “What kind of information?” I asked.

“That’s all they said. They hung up before the cops could get any information on them. I know this isn’t very helpful, but it opens up the possibility that there is a witness out there, and if they called once to talk about what they saw, they might call again,” he says, “so hang in there, Dan. Everyone is doing the best they can to find out what happened to Anna.”

“Thanks, Mr. Martin,” was all I could say.

Someone out there knows what happened to Anna. For the first time since she died, I feel some kind of real hope for finding justice for Anna.

***

I am still thinking about Anna’s case as I make my way down to breakfast the next morning. I am keeping my phone glued to my side in case Mr. Martin calls with more information. All through the night I kept mentally willing the person who called the police station to call back and confess what they saw. Unless it was a prank call after all, in which case, I’m mentally willing that person to go rot in hell.

My parents are already in the kitchen when I walk in. My mom is setting the table, while my dad is filling his travel mug with coffee.

“Morning,” I mumble.

“Good morning, Dan,” my mother says with a warm smile.

My father remains silent.

“Good morning, Dad,” I say, raising my voice a tad bit higher.

Dad sighs grab his mug and heads for the door.

“I better run. I have an early meeting.” He gives my mom a quick peck on the lips, then turns and looks at in eye, “I’ll deal with you later at practice.”

I lower my gaze down to my cereal as he leaves. There have been very few times in my life where I have actually seen my father so angry at me.

As the day goes on, I keep on with the theme of mentally willing things to go my way and expand it to include mentally willing my dad to go on easy on me. But as I walk into practice after school and see his hard gaze fall upon me, I realize that my attempts are a bust. Man, am I in for it.