she knew so much more than you did.
so you had to destroy her.
you think you saved her. but you destroyed her.
17A
Every You, Every Me
17B
I gave up almost immediately. It was a field. With some trees. Maybe a building. I zoomed in, but it all blurred. And part of me didn’t even care. It all seemed pointless. Pointless … without point … round … full circle.
I packed up to go to school.
I forwarded the email to Jack before I went.
17C
Katie found me before homeroom and pulled me into an empty classroom to talk.
“Mr. Rogers is out today,” she said. “I couldn’t stand it, so I … well, I went through his desk. I didn’t find the list, though. He must keep it with him, or at home or something. I even tried looking on his computer. I’m so glad I wasn’t caught.”
There was a thrill in Katie’s voice as she told me all this. It reminded me a little of you. Or of me when I was around you.
“I guess we’ll have to wait until Monday,” Katie said.
I couldn’t imagine waiting that long.
17D
I thought I saw her in the hallway.
It was between classes. Crowded.
But I tried. I pushed
through the conversations
pushed
past the bystanders
pushed
even though some people pushed back, told me to watch it.
She was ahead of me. I swore it.
But I was losing sight of her.
Instead I saw Mrs. McGuinness coming out of the guidance office.
“It wasn’t your fault, Evan! You did the right thing!”
Mrs. McGuinness, noticing me.
“She was sick! If she’d been bleeding on the street, you would’ve run to get help. It’s the same thing!”
Mrs. McGuinness, realizing it had been a while since one of our chats.
“I’m here for you, Evan! We’re all here for you!”
I had to stop pushing. I had to turn around. I couldn’t let her talk to me.
17E
You hated her so much.
“They’re so far from the Truth,” you’d say. “Guidance? Is that what they call it. Guidance toward what? Interesting how they never specify that.”
“If she’d been bleeding on the street, you would’ve run to get help. It’s the same thing!”
“Typical,” I could hear you saying back. “The whole point is that I wasn’t bleeding in the street. I wasn’t dying of cancer. You couldn’t take an X-ray and see what was wrong with me. You couldn’t make such an easy diagnosis. You had to guess. And everybody guessed wrong.”
But the thing is, I hadn’t even made the guess. I trusted that you knew what you were doing.
You were very convincing.
And I destroyed you.
17F
I hadn’t even gotten my lunch before Jack pulled me away from it.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said, gesturing me out of the lunch line.
“Am I in trouble? What’s going on?” I asked.
But he waited until we were out back. I thought we’d stay on the patio, but we walked even farther away, beyond all the sound waves from the school.
“I got your email this morning,” he said. He didn’t look too happy about it. “I can’t believe this girl, whoever she is, would do that to you. Is this the first time she’s emailed?”
I shook my head. “There was one other. A picture of Ariel.”
Jack went for a cigarette from his pocket, but came up short.
“Left them in my locker.” He looked at me. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t have one.”
“You are correct,” I said.
“You are correct.” That was something you used to say, and we both knew it. I had gotten that from you.
“Look,” he went on, “I talked to Miranda about this. Last night, even before I got your email. I didn’t tell her everything—she doesn’t need to know everything about Ariel and what happened. But I told her about the photos. And you know what she said? She said, ‘That girl is stalking you and Evan. It’s stalking.’ I guess I knew that, but having her say it made me realize how wrong it was. And you know what? We’ve only been encouraging her by playing along. I know I told you this last time, but now I really mean it—we have to walk away. Or, if you don’t want to think of it as walking away, we have to make her a little scared. Even if you know where the field is in that picture, don’t go there. Stay away. I doubt that will be the last we’ll hear from her. But we’ll get to see what she does when we don’t play along.”
I knew it wasn’t the point, but I said, “You told Miranda?”
We’d reached the bleachers for the football field. There were a couple of people running on the track, but otherwise it was empty. Jack walked up to the top row and sat down. I followed.
Every you, every me. I wondered if Jack was a different Jack with Miranda. I wondered if we all just kept changing, or splitting off. I wondered if I didn’t meet anyone new, if I didn’t talk to anyone else, would I stay the same me?
“What are you thinking, Evan?”
So I told him.
Every you, every me. Fractals. Fractures.
“I wonder who she is now,” I said.
“So do I,” Jack admitted. “All the time.”
18
I promised Jack I wouldn’t find the field from the photo. I promised him I wouldn’t go there. I promised him to give the photographer nothing but silence.
And this time, I actually kept my promise.
18A
I was talking to you more and more. Remembering times that weren’t complicated. Asking you how you were. Begging for forgiveness, if only so you’d say it wasn’t necessary.
You never said anything back.
18B
Do you really think you can ignore me?
if so, then you don’t know me.
the same way you don’t know her.
you think she was weak, but I know she was brave.
I understood. you didn’t.
I still understand. you don’t.
Every You, Every Me
18C
Avengingariel must have gone to the field. She must have waited.
I wondered if this photo was from the same field, only from a different angle. Clearer. With a better landmark.
I wondered if avenging was being used as an adjective or a verb.
I forwarded the email to Jack, this time with a message:
I’m not going.
He sent an email back:
Good.
18D
My parents wanted to take a drive on Saturday. I said okay.
My mother said I should have a “change of scenery.” The word scenery made me think of a play. And as we were driving around, it made sense that way. Because no matter how much the scenery changed, we were still on the same stage.
Your life is inescapable. Unless you decide to escape it.
My parents asked about school. About friends. About colleges. About what I was reading. And as I sat there, I felt again like you. Your parents must have asked you the same questions. They must have tried the same way. Knowing there was a problem, but thinking it would be a bigger problem if they brought it up. So instead they tried to muffle it with ordinary things. They saw the scenery, not the stage.
“So it’s all come full circle,” you said.
“Would you like that?” my mother asked.
“What?” I said.
“To go rafting over the summer. To go away.”
“Let’s talk about the summer like it’s sure to exist,” you whispered in my ear. This wasn’t a memory. You were whispering it now. “But you and I know better, don’t we? How about we do away with the summer?”
“That sounds great,” I said.
18E
I imagined the photographer in that field. Waiting for me.
I knew it was right to avoid her. I knew we had to pretend like we were ignoring her, like she wasn’t having any effect.
But I pictured her there, waiting. And I knew: She had something to say to me. Something I didn’t want to hear. But something that I would hear eventually, whether I wanted to or not.
Why else do this?
Why else try to pen us in?
She had something to say.
You had something to say.
It felt good to imagine you her waiting. It felt good to imagine how you she felt when the sun set and I wasn’t there. It felt good to imagine your her next photograph in the middle of that field, eventually blowing away.
But the good feeling, like the avoidance, was only temporary.
I knew we were simply postponing the inevitable.
The only difference this time was that at least we could see it coming.
18F
When we got home from the drive, after having dinner in town, I went straight to my room. I wanted to call Jack, but then I realized he was probably out at some party with the team. The first month or so, he’d invited me along. But I couldn’t picture myself there, numb to everyone else. So I let him go. And he stopped asking, after a while.
I heard my mother open the front door, open the mailbox, come back inside. The usual pattern of coming home, as normal as my father turning on the television.
Only this time she called out my name. Then she walked upstairs. Stood in my doorway.
“There was something for you in the mailbox,” she said. Curious, but not curious enough to say more.
She handed me an envelope with my name written on it.
I didn’t move to open it until she was gone, until I could close the door.
19
Another photo of me.
Another photo of that day.
Every You, Every Me
“Let’s go into the woods and take some pictures,” you said. “I found this old camera.”
“Sure,” I said. “After school?”
“Yeah, after school.”
Every You, Every Me
And what happened during school? What changed?
Because when I met you at your locker, you were different. You handed me the camera.
“Here, take this.”
But you were distracted.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
And—yes, I remember.
You said, “Everything.”
Every You, Every Me
I followed you into the woods.
I followed you.
I would have followed you anywhere.
I thought that.
And then you went somewhere I couldn’t follow.
Every You, Every Me
But back up. Return to the woods. Look at the picture. There you are. Someone was watching. I have no idea who. But there I am.
I must be looking at you.
You didn’t take this photo.
I had the camera.
Every You, Every Me
“Take my picture,” you said.
So I lined up the old camera.
“Is there film in this?” I asked.
“This way, you’ll have me for posterity,” you said.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I wasn’t sure there was any film.
“Evan, I can’t take it right now. I just can’t take it.”
“Take what?”
“Take the picture.”
“What?”
“I said, take the picture.”
Every You, Every Me
What happened next?
What happened next was
What happened next was
Jack?
No.
Yes.
Your scream.
No.